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gretavangroupie · 2 years ago

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Muse (Part 6)

Word count: 13.2k+

Pairing: Danny x Female Reader

Summary: After a blow out at the bar one night, Danny is left questioning the nature of his relationship with his enemy the bartender.

Warnings: 18+ as always, language, drinking, sexual situations, smut, fluff.

Part Five

Muse Playlist

A/N: Special shoutout to my beta, my co-writer, and my dear friend @gvfjess . Every wonderful, amazing, sexy part of this story came from her big beautiful brain. Muse would absolutely not be what it is without her and I cannot thank her enough for her love and support through this process. We have loved writing this together and hope you love it too.

We cannot thank you enough for all the love and support you have shown us through this process. We have become so attached to these characters and we hope you love this final chapter as much as we do.

Without Further Ado...

HER POV

Running to the door your shaking fingers twist the lock, a sob crying out of your chest. The tears that have been collecting at your lashes free falling from your eyes.

How did this happen? Why?

You drag yourself over to the bar to finish closing. You don’t even care that you’re closing early.

The look on Josh’s face killed you, hurt and confused…he didn’t deserve this.

Why didn’t you tell him?

And Danny? How could you he say that to you? After everything? He broke your heart. He told you it would never be more. That he would never want you….But how could you do this to him? Every harsh word you’ve ever said to him could never be as cruel as what you’ve just done. His best friend? How could you think you ever truly cared about him and then do something like this. His words sliced through you, the pain and embarrassment almost forced your tears right then. You knew this would happen. But never this way. Now you’ve lost both of them.

Your lips trembled and your eyes burned trying to push the tears away. The lump in your throat on fire as your brain tried to fight off the memories of their faces, burned into it.

You count the money in the register through blurry, tear filled eyes, taking out the cash for the nightly deposit. The tears still rushing down your cheeks as you look up and see the broken shot glass still laying on the floor of their favorite spot, now empty. You wonder if they will ever sit there together again. Not only have you ruined things with Danny and Josh, you have also caused a rift within the band, within their friendship.

You’ve never seen Josh mad like that before, least of all with Danny.

“They are my brothers. You need to fix this…”

Jake’s words playing through your head, over and over just making the ache in your chest unbearable.

You walk over to the broken glass with a dustpan and hand broom, squatting down to sweep the tiny pieces into the pan.

As the shards roll across the floor into the pan, you cant help but compare them to how you feel.

Broken and shattered into sharp pieces all over the floor, stepped on and mangled into the bottom of a shoe. Even when the pieces are collected and put back together it will never be completely whole again. You don’t know how things would ever, or could ever go back to being normal. It would never be what it was, again.

You made that decision when you decided to sleep with Josh.

As much as you wish you could take it back, you are glad you did it. Josh is amazing and wonderful and everything you already knew he was. His thoughtful and caring soul, too pure to ever be caught up in this mess.

He didn’t deserve this…To be used as a patch for the hole in your chest. He would never do something like this.

You drop the dust pan down to the trash can and watch as the glass slides into the black abyss of the bag, never to be seen again. You feel like you’re already there, free falling into the darkness, unsure of where you will land.

You walk back to the bar, wiping down the countertop and quickly restocking the coolers.

I just need to get out of here. I just need to go home and be alone.

Your chest is sore from heaving in and out by the time you are finally turning off the lights to leave. The tears had finally stopped, and now you’re only left with puffy eyes, red and tender from rubbing them, a runny nose, and a broken heart.

You step outside, the cold air abrasive against the tender skin. You turn your back to the wind and lock the door to the bar. The bar you wished you never had to step foot in again. Maybe you wouldn’t.

You pull your coat hood up to shield your face as you step into the gravel parking lot. You see your car, and notice a familiar car parked next to it.

Josh?

Embarrassed by your red eyes and disheveled appearance, you sniffle and try to wipe your face again as you see him step out of his car. He steps out and leans against the front, hands in his coat pockets.

“You think we can talk?” He asks, his voice is barely above a whisper. His eyes are bloodshot and red, you can tell that he has been crying.

He’s speaking to you?

“I don’t think I am good company right now.” You reply.

“Please. We really need to talk. Tonight.” he looks at you pleadingly and you feel the ache in your chest grow deeper than you imagined was possible.

You think for a minute at the possible repercussions of this choice and you decide that you have nothing left to lose at this point.

“Okay, you can come over to my place…God Josh, I am the one who should be begging for you to talk to me. Not the other way around.” You whine.

“Let’s just talk when we get there.” He says getting into his car.

The entire way home you replay the night in your head, 2, 3, 4 times.

How did you not see this coming? Why are you so heartbroken over Danny? The horrible things he said tonight should have sworn you off of him for good. Why do you feel the opposite? He has thrown you every single red flag he has, and you still want him. Yet he isn’t the one here for you, Josh is.

You pull into your parking space and make your way up to the door, Josh at your side.

You walk inside and lay your coat on the entry table, before depositing yourself on your couch, cradling your head in your hands.

“Josh, I…” you start, stopping yourself and trying to find the words.

You feel him sit down next to you, his hand laying slowly on your back to offer a comforting touch. The stress melts away from your body.

“I need you to tell me everything. I don’t care about what happened, but I need to hear it from you. Please.” his caramel hued eyes ladened with tears are searching yours for the answers. You can tell from the sincerity in his voice that he is just looking for the truth, already forgiving you for the actions that led you both to where you are now.

“It was never supposed to be like this Josh. It just… happened and now…” You say as the tears begin making their way back to your eyes.

“I know…” he says with a defeated sigh, his gaze shifting towards his feet. “I really wish you would have said something to me last night. I never would have said the things that I said if I had known. It didn’t have to be this way.” his words hang like a storm cloud over the two of you. You know you have to tell him everything. It’s the only way he will understand.

“I thought it was just going to be the one time, and I thought he did too. But every time we would see each other…. I think we both knew that it was never just the one time.…I guess it really all started at the bar.” You say, reliving each moment in your head.

“At first everything was so normal. You all would come in every night, you’d order your drinks, we would small talk and that was it. Somewhere down the road you started to become my friends. Each of you in your own ways. Sammy, the dramatic jokester always down for a good time and a song, Jake the very serious problem solver, the voice of reason within your group, and someone I could count on to keep things in check when it began to get too rowdy. And you, my shoulder to lean on and a friend I could always talk to about anything, you were a constant each night. I would look forward to your turns to get drinks knowing I would always feel warm after our conversations, whether they be 5 minutes or 25.

Then there was Danny. I wouldn’t say we ever became friends, we were hardly acquaintances.… In the beginning he wasn’t mean, he was just, quiet, almost shy. Somewhere along the way something happened…. Feelings began to form right under our noses. Every night, stealing glances at each other. His eyes lingering on mine for just a little too long. We both felt it. We were like magnets to each other. I think we both denied feeling it for so long that it got lost.

He had a girlfriend and I was still relatively new in town, I was trying to settle in… One night it changed. You remember… he got so drunk, he was trying to fight people, calling me names… I know now, he was just hurt, looking for someone to blame.

After kicking him out that night our dynamic changed. He was no longer watching me from across the room, instead he was glaring, and I would return it. It became an obsessive need to match his energy. His words cutting me, so I would cut him right back. We both craved it. I could just tell. I started to see a fire in his eyes each night he would walk into the bar, he craved the toxicity of whatever it was we were dancing around. So we continued, every night being as hateful as we could to each other.” You say, trying to tell him only the parts he needed to hear, not wanting to cause him more pain.

“A few weeks ago, a guy came into the bar and I was talking to him. Things were going good… I thought he might have liked me. But then something I have never seen in Danny made its appearance. He was…jealous. He lied to the guy and made him believe something that was the farthest from the truth. Was awful about it too. He just couldn’t stand the thought of someone else having me. He wouldn’t admit it at the time, but I see it so clearly now.” You recount, rubbing your hands on your legs.

“I was so furious at him that night. I knew I was going to go straight to his house and smack him right across the face. But when I got there, with all my courage gathered up, I froze. I could hardly even remember what I was doing there. I remembered I had his house key from when I house sat, so I told him thats why I was there. He had just showered and he was only in a towel. It was the first time I really ever looked at him like that, you know? The first time I ever really saw him. His hardened, mean facade turned playful and alluring, just for a split second, and I liked it. I was attracted to it.

My head was spinning. I rushed straight home, the whole way convincing myself that was I was feeling wasn’t what I thought. Replaying every hurtful thing he ever said in an effort to stifle back that feeling. That was the night I knew that things had really changed between us. It was shifting, to something else. Something more.

I can keep going but I don’t want to say too much, I don’t want you to be upset. I know this is a lot….” You say.

“No, keep going. I need to know.” He says intently, so you continue.

“You texted me the next day, and invited me to come to your party at your house. I didn’t think I was going to go, but something convinced me I should. I wanted to go, simply because you had asked me. I was happy to hear from you outside of the bar. I knew he would be there, I was nervous, but knew I had this underlying craving to see him. So I decided that if I was going to go, I was going to make it interesting.” You say intently.

Josh is just sitting, listening, hanging on every word you’re saying. You watch his face to gauge his reactions, the pain of his sad face tearing you apart.

“After what had happened the night before, I knew that things between us were going to heat up. The build up was finally reaching the apex. The entire night our eyes never broke from each others. Silently calling for one another. Each of us with different people, just wishing it was the other. We could both feel the electricity in the air between us. I decided that I was going to really push his buttons.

I acted on the feelings that I was feeling, knowing he would cave. I knew I had him, I could make him do anything I wanted. Finally, he snapped. He drug me out of the party and took me back to his house.”

Josh winces in pain, hearing it from you was probably more painful then it would have been if Danny had been the one to tell him. You reach your hand out to his, holding it between both of your hands to comfort him. You know you have to finish telling him, he has to know.

“We both knew we shouldn’t be doing it, but we just couldn’t stop. How could two people who have been so awful to each other end up in this situation? All night we fed off of each other, using each other like a drug. We were addicted. It was harsh and vile and wonderful. We both knew things wouldn’t go back to how they had been. We snuck around for weeks, lying straight to all of your faces. Slowly the hatefulness started to wear away, the hate fucking became regular fucking, maybe even something more. His feelings were shifting, and he was still pushing them back….” You continue.

A harsh sigh releases from his chest.

“Right before you all left for the UK we had a big blowout fight, and he told me that we would never be anything more than what we were in that moment. That he would never be with a girl like me. It killed me, I thought we had gotten past it. Because I mean, wasn’t he with me? We were fucking? Anyways, the only thing I could do was to fight him back. I said something I didn’t mean and we didn’t speak after that. Not the entire time you were gone.”

Your breath becomes shaky and you can tell his does too.

“The night you guys came in after you got back was the first time we had spoken or seen each other in weeks, but the spark was still there. I could see it in his eyes no matter how much he tried to pretend it was gone. I overheard you all talking about him getting with a groupie and the way he looked at me when he knew I heard… I thought I had been shot. I couldn’t even comprehend why I was so hurt. I was sad but couldn’t let him see that. As far as I knew he had moved on from whatever we were doing.

But you were there to pick me up, to make it go away. I will never be able to tell you how much that meant to me. It was the most beautiful night I’ve probably ever had, even with all the alcohol. You were perfect and gentle and tender. Everything I ever wanted for myself Josh, really.

But something wasn’t right. Somewhere in the very back of my mind, I was still wanting him. Wishing for him to come around. Hoping he would realize that maybe the feelings he was stifling back were something more.

I think a part of me has always known that we would end up together, but ignored it, and hoped it would die down. But it didn’t. In fact that part got bigger, more needy. Desperate for him. Constantly longing to be near him. I wish more than anything that I didn’t feel this way about him. I know it’s wrong, every part of me knows I shouldn’t feel this way. But I do and I cant push it back anymore. I haven’t ever felt like this about anyone. I just wish it could have been different. I wish it could have been you Josh, I really do. But it’s him, it’s always been him.”

He shakes his head. He knows. He understands.

“Every night we come to the same bar. Do you know why?” He asks.

“No.” You reply quietly.

“In the beginning, it was because of convenience, a quiet place to go with good drinks… Towards the middle it became comfortable, a familiar face to always greet us and a place to relax, and somewhere around the end it became my escape. Where I could walk in and forget my outside life, knowing I would see you there.

Every night when we would walk in and I would see you, every minuscule inconvenience of my day would be gone. You were just so beautiful and refreshing. So easy to talk to and connect with. I pined for you from across the bar for as long as I can remember. Everyone knew it. Sam, Jake. Everyone except you and him. But I couldn’t bring myself to make a move, couldn’t risk losing it. My safe place.

The day I invited you to that party, I thought maybe I would be able to tell you…I saw you and him inside. The way you were looking at each other. I think I knew then too. He came to me outside, he was worked up, anxious… a mess. I knew then he felt the same way about you that I did, so I did what any good friend would do. I put my feelings aside, I told him to go get you. He didn’t understand how I knew, but I did, because I saw you the same way he did. The way he looked at you… it was the same way I did. But you didn’t see me, you were too busy looking at him. I didn’t know you went home with him that night. I don’t know how I didn’t see it coming. I basically forced it to happen. ” He says, his eyes lining with tears. Your heart breaks.

You replay seeing him at the party in your head, and the night you spent with Danny. He was looking at you.

“Josh, I…I’m so sorry…” you say shaking your head grabbing his hand. His thumbs rub over the top of your knuckles.

You know where this story is going to end and you feel sick letting him continue. He has liked you for a lot longer than you thought. His sweet words plunging the knife further into your heart. As much as you care for him, he will never be him. Daniel owns your mind, body, and soul.

“For weeks I tried to work up the courage to tell you at the bar, but I never could, especially knowing how Danny felt that night. You two were always arguing and you would always seem upset and I just wanted to comfort you. I knew the timing wasn't right.

We left for the UK and I thought about you every single night. I would lie awake in my bunk imagining your smile waiting for me at the bar when I got home. I almost texted you a few drunken nights, always reigning myself back in. I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same.

The day we got back I couldn’t wait to get to the bar. To see you. To be close to you.

You know what happened next. While I know now that it shouldn’t have happened, I am glad it did. If it was my only chance to have you I will never regret taking that chance. I only wish you would have told me beforehand. It seems we are in a mess now and I’m not sure how we fix it. ” He finishes.

“Josh, I care about you so much and I wish things could have happened differently. I’ll never be able to tell you how badly I wanted it to be us. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am that it isn’t us. You’re kind, thoughtful, intentional. You are everything I should want and need in a partner. I would be so lucky to ever have you, in any lifetime, but I think in this one I end up with someone else. This story doesn’t have a happy ending for us.”

His hand reaches up and his thumb runs across your cheek collecting the fallen tear.

“I know. I knew as soon as I saw your face tonight, he may as well pulled your heart out right there. I knew you loved him.” He says gently.

“Josh I don’t love him?” You say.

“But thats the thing. You do. You always have, you just haven’t realized it fully yourself yet. When he enters the room, your cheeks flush. When he talks to you your breath catches in your throat. You bite your lips and lean closer to him, and him to you. When he tells a story, you are captivated, hanging on his every word, even from across the room. Shit, you just talked about him for twenty minutes straight… I know what it feels like to be in love, but now I can say I have seen it too. You just spent so much of your time and energy fighting with each other that you never stopped to ask yourselves what was fueling the hate, what kind of tension it was. All along it was what would eventually turn into this. If you feel like even a tiny bit of that is true, you’ll go to him. He loves you too, I know he does.” He says.

As if the world began to spin in slow motion, your vision narrows and your heart begins to race. You see every scene play out with him, every tell tale sign that Josh just mentioned staring you in the face, clear as day.

You love him.

How could Josh be right?

“Oh god. Everything is such a mess…everything is ruined.” You reply, a tear slipping out of your wet lashes.

“It’s not, it’s only really just begun.” He says. “You are an amazing woman, any man on Earth would be lucky to have you, even for five minutes. But like you said, your story doesn’t end with us, it ends with him. I will never understand, but I know somehow that this is the right thing.” He says.

Sitting back into the couch, you run your sleeves over your eyes, collecting your tears and your thoughts.

“I think I do love him. I don’t know when it happened, but it did. Neither of us wanted this. This wasn’t part of the plan. I don’t even know how to fix it.” You say. “Oh god, and Jake, and Sammy…they hate me too. I could see it on their faces…”

He places his hand on your shoulder, gripping slightly.

“I will smooth things over with them, leave that part to me. Jake was just feeling what I felt. It's literally in his DNA. Sam is Daniel’s best friend, he will be on his side first and foremost. But you know he can’t stay mad about anything. I will talk to them both. Things will be okay. You just need to fix it with Daniel.”

“But won’t seeing me with him… I don’t want to hurt you Josh.” You say.

“Seeing you happy is what matters the most to me. Do I wish it was me? Of course. But just know, I will be watching and at the first sign of him not treating you right, I will be there to put him in his place and take you for my own.” He says, with a soft smile. “So go. You need to tell him everything you just told me. All of it. Bring the fire with you. Hold his ass accountable, never let him talk to you like that again. About pissed me right off. Be mad at him, yell at him, but mostly, tell him you love him. It’s time.” He says urgently.

“You heard him tonight…. He doesn’t want to see me. He wants nothing to do with me.” You say nervously.

Josh smirks, “Is that why your phone has buzzed two times since I have been here?”

You look at him shocked, you didn’t even hear it. You jump up and grab it off of the counter.

1:57a.m. Missed Call: D

2:36a.m. Missed Call: D

“He may not be blood, but he is still my brother. I know him like I know myself. This is why we had to do this, tonight. We needed to do this, so you could go to him without the burden of this.” He says gesturing between the two of you, standing up, grabbing his coat and sliding it over his arms. “I forgive you, and I’ll always be here for you. But please, go to him and fight for this. One day I will have my great love story, but this one is yours.” He finishes.

He grabs his keys off the table, gives you a kiss on the cheek and the door shuts behind him.

He’s right. You have to go.

You glance at the clock on the wall, 2:47am. It’s too late, you’re sure he is probably already asleep. He drank so much tonight. You think about the pain in his eyes when he was airing out your business to everyone. He was hurt. He had every right to be. You slept with Josh. You deserved for him to be mad.

You feel the hole in your chest aching and decide that it’s now or never. You run to the bathroom and try to freshen up in the mirror but it’s no use. Your face is red and splotchy, your eyes swollen and raw from crying. Your lips puffy and full. You quickly tie your hair into a messy bun and you head out to the living room, grabbing your coat, your keys and your purse. You walk out the door not knowing if you’ll be the same person when you return through it.

Its 3:12am and you are pulling into his parking lot. Your heart is pounding in your chest.

Why are you doing this to yourself?

Because Josh told you to. He wouldn’t steer you wrong would he?

You get out of your car, your breath trembling with nerves. You can’t help but struggle with what to say when you see him. You are still angry, but you need him to know how you feel underneath all of the anger and pain. The entire walk to his door you are trying to piece together a speech that articulates how upset with him you are, but ultimately how much he means to you. This conversation is going to be the turning point, whether it’s for better or for worse. You finally approach his unit, heart beating out of your chest and blinking back tears as you knock on the door. You don’t even notice that you’re holding your breath until you hear the lock spin. Suddenly everything you’ve rehearsed disappears from your mind.

The door opens slowly and you see him. The whites of his eyes are red and wet. His skin is flushed and his under eyes swollen. His hair is completely tied back into a knot on his head. He is wearing his favorite sweatpants and no shirt, just his necklace laying against his bare chest. His demeanor not as strong and confident as usual, he looks soft and defeated. Sad.

Has he been crying?

He clears his throat, and places his hand on the edge of the door, leaning slightly against it.

“It’s late.” He says, his voice unsteady. His eyes are looking past you.

“You’re still awake.” You reply quietly, staring intently into the eyes that won’t make contact with yours, knowing if they did, he would break.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He says thinly.

A long silence falls between the two of you before you finally break it.

“Danny….” You say before he cuts you off.

“Stop.” his lips tightening into a thin line.

“Just tell me why…” you beg.

He puts his hand in his sweatpants pocket and looks down at the floor. As he looks up he is biting the inside of his cheek.

“What’s there to say?” He says.

“How about…. I don’t know… I’m sorry? Sorry, I was a total asshole? Sorry that I said those things about you?” You say.

He shrugs his shoulders dismissively.

“Why did you call me?” You ask harshly. “Here I am. So talk. What do you want.”

He stares at you for a second, you can tell that he is thinking about it in his head, the words not leaving his mouth.

After hesitating for a minute, he pulls the door open, silently telling you to come in.

As you walk over the threshold you are assaulted with the scent of him, you’ve missed it.

He walks over to his couch and sits, you following after him. You notice the bottle of whiskey on the table and look at it, and then to him. His eyes telling you everything you need to know. He is hurting too.

“Alright, I’m listening.” You say.

“I said what I said, and I’m sorry it was harsh, but what did you expect.” He asks.

“I expected you to act like an adult for one fucking second. You blew up. You don’t even know what happened, Danny. You should have just asked. Instead you acted like a child. Embarrassing not only me and Josh, but also yourself.” You say.

“I don’t see you apologizing either. You fucked my best friend… Although… he is just as much to blame as you are.” He scoffs.

“No. That’s not true. Josh had no idea. You had no right to say those things to him.” You say.

He scoffs, “You’re still up Josh’s ass? Instead of ‘Hey Danny, sorry I fucked your friend…’ you want to come here and scold me for being mad at him? Classic.”

“I’m not 'up anyones ass’, cut the shit Danny. You can be mad at me all you want, but Josh didn’t do anything wrong. He had no idea we were together or he would never have done it.” You seethe.

“Let me stop you right there. We were never together….” He says looking past you before cutting his eyes to you.

“Oh god…You can’t be serious? How many times are we going to do this? Does it somehow make you feel better to shove those feelings down? To act like you don’t feel the exact same way I feel? To pretend that you don’t want to be with me, just as bad as I want to be with you?” You ask.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says dismissively.

“Oh, really? Is that why you ran that guy off at the bar that night? Why you stole me away from that guy at the party? Is that why you blew up when you found out Josh and I hooked up? Because you don’t want me? Or is it because you just don’t want anyone else to have me, Danny. Which is it?” You ask.

His eyes grow dark and piercing, staring directly into yours. A long pause of silence as he contemplates his words.

“Why Josh?” He yells. “Just tell me why him.”

“Because I was devastated Danny! You broke my heart! You told me we would never be anything! Told me that you didn’t want me…That you could never want me! Then I find out you slept with someone else…. a random groupie at that. You’d rather have meaningless sex, then have me. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? I thought maybe when you came back we would… I don’t know. I just thought maybe we could figure this out. But then I found out about that, and between that and you telling me that we would never be together I was just… broken. I was so…sad. He was there for me when you weren’t, and my god did it feel amazing to finally have someone put ME first. To have someone care about MY feelings. He was there to put me back together after you single-handedly tore me apart, for weeks.“ you cry.

You see him swallow hard his eyes blinking rapidly.

“After you left we hung out at the bar for a while after it closed, we had been drinking all night just talking, and he was being so gentle and kind. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or what, but he got to me. I felt something. It was so different than what we had been doing, Danny. It was so easy and natural and there was no yelling or fighting. I thought maybe if I couldn’t have you, I could have the next best thing. I thought maybe he was the best thing for me… I thought that maybe he would patch up the hole in my chest. I WANTED him to fix me, to be the person that was going to be with me. But he didn’t and he isn’t. All I could think of was you. How he wasn’t you. How he would never be able to make me feel the way you do.”

You pause, feeling the tears begin to form.

You can see the guilt building on his face, the deep crease between his eyebrows, and the lines around his eyes.

"But then tonight, the things you said…How could you say that to me? In front of everyone? Out of all of the shitty things you’ve ever said and done, that was by far the worst. I never thought you would say those things, ever. I was ready to give up on everything. All of it. But do you know who came to my rescue, again? Who ultimately showed up to play defense for YOU? Helped me understand?

The other person you hurt tonight Danny, your best friend. Josh. HE came to me, waited for me all night, actually. He helped me understand my feelings about you. That they were real, and valid. And yours, explaining it from a different perspective. Putting his own feelings aside. Yet you have the audacity to sit here and…. ” You stop, sobbing as the tears finally spill violently over the edge of your lashes.

“He had no idea, and you attacked him. He was blindsided! You hurt and embarrassed him. Did you know that he liked me? Did you know that night at the party he was going to try to finally tell me? But instead he told you that you should go after me? Because he could see that you wanted me? And what did you do Danny?” You ask. “Answer.”

“I did it.” He says.

“But you didn’t tell him, because you were too full of yourself to damage your tough guy persona. The damage you did inflict was on someone who was on your side and always has been. Who would do anything for you.” You say.

“I knew it.” He says.

“Forget it, I can see this is pointless.” You say standing up.

He grabs your arm and pulls you back down onto the couch. “No. I’m sorry. Please.”

“You have about two seconds to start talking and don’t give me any bullshit. ” You say.

“I was furious. More than furious. Enraged. I went to your apartment this morning. I wanted to talk to you. I was going to tell you that I wanted to be with you. I was going to tell you how I thought of you, fuck, dreamed of you every single day we were gone. How sorry I was for ever telling you we would never be more, when that’s all I really wanted.

Then after last night at the bar, I saw Josh’s car in the parking lot and I just knew... I thought you lied to me. I thought you wanted him, not me.” He says, fidgeting with his hands.

“I didn’t mean anything that I said the day I left. I was too prideful to admit how I really felt… so I pushed you away. I didn’t want to get hurt again. I couldn’t. But as the days passed I realized that I was hurting. Hurting without you, dwelling on the things I said to you and letting you believe that I meant them. I thought maybe when we came back I would see you at the bar and we could talk and try and figure everything out. Then Sam brought up the girl and it ruined everything. It was a horrible experience, the entire time I was with her all I could think of was you. I missed you so desperately and the pain in my chest was so bad I was willing to try anything to get you out of my head, even for a second.” He pauses, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“If you remember, you said a few hurtful things too. I thought you didn’t want me either. I tried to believe it and take it for face value. But somehow I knew it wasn’t true. I told myself that you still wanted me. So then, when I saw Josh’s car at your apartment, and put the pieces together I… I don’t know. I thought you wanted him. I lost it. I am so fucking sorry.

I know none of this would have happened if I just told you how I really felt all along. If I had just been honest with you. With myself.” He says, a tear slipping out of the corner of his eye, running down his cheek.

Your heart constricts in your chest as you see his emotions coming out. He is being genuine and you can tell he means every word.

Your hand reaches up and your thumb swipes away the tear.

“How do you really feel Danny?” You ask almost a whisper.

“Full of regret.” He answers, grabbing your wrist, turning his face into your hand.

“What do you regret?” You ask, your fingertips gently scratching his hairline.

“Ever letting you believe that I haven’t wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Danny…” you say, a tear falling, dripping from your chin.

“No, there’s more. For ever letting you think that you’re less than exactly what I want. For letting you believe I ever meant any horrible thing I’ve ever said. But mostly I regret that I caused this. I wish I could go back, I wish I could redo the last month. From the moment we came together the night of the party, I felt this weight lift off my shoulders. I finally realized how much effort I was putting into fighting my feelings for you. I was so worried about what bad could happen, that I wasn’t willing to see what good could happen. I see it now. The way you make me smile, my heart beat faster just with your presence, and the empty feeling when you’re gone. I want you, all of you. If you’ll have me, I will spend every single day reminding you how you’re exactly, everything I have ever wanted. All I’ll ever want.”

You stare at each other for a few seconds, both of your faces stained with tears, and as if you both had the same thought at the same time, you are suddenly colliding together, your lips finding each others, sobs crying out between both of you.

His hands pull your face to his as you intertwine your fingers through his knot of hair. His thumbs swipe away the tears still flowing on your cheeks. You push yourself over him, to lay on top of his warm body. You pull away from his face and push yourself up on your hands.

“I’ll have you. I’ll always have you.” You say.

With a swift movement, his lips are meeting with yours, in the most breath stealing, loving kiss your lips have ever felt. You can taste the saltiness of the tears mixing in with your saliva. His kiss is soft and comforting but hard and wanting, like it’s been lit like a firecracker, waiting for the fuse to burn out before exploding. You pull away for air and he stares at you rubbing his thumb over your lips.

“You are everything I have ever wanted.” He whispers.

“Prove it.” You reply breathlessly.

He sits you up on the couch before standing, reaching his hand out to yours looking at you with dark eyes. You reach your hand to his, as he pulls you to stand. His arm wraps around your waist and pull you into his bare chest, your hand sliding up through the tiny hairs, over his collarbone and wrapping around the back of his neck. The feeling of touching his skin sending electricity through your veins.

His hand cups your jaw rubbing his finger tips gently into your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the gentleness of his touch.

“Look at me.” He whispers.

You open your eyes and see him staring directly into yours.

“Tell me that you still want me.” He says. “Tell me that you’ve wanted me as bad as I have wanted you, everyday for the past three weeks…fuck, for the past year…”

“Every second.” You reply barely a whisper.

Your lips crash together, his lips furiously searching for the comfort of yours. The ache in your chest bursting into 10,000 tiny winged butterflies, fluttering through your body, so quickly you feel like you’re floating yourself. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him as close as you possibly can, never feeling close enough. He lets out a soft moan as you tug on the curls, immediately turning the butterflies in your stomach aflame, in a way that only he can do to you.

“Let me show you how I feel about you.” He says as he moves his mouth down your neck. His lips are soft and wet, and your eyes flutter shut as he trails down to your chest. With the lightest touch you’ve ever felt from him, he slowly strips you of your shirt, kissing every inch of skin as it becomes bare. He reaches one hand behind you and unclasps your bra easily, leaving your bare chest exposed to him.

“I am the luckiest man in the world. You are absolutely breathtaking.” a blush creeps to your cheeks at your vulnerable position. You reach up to kiss him but he stops you before you can touch your lips to his.

“No, no, no. Right now this is all about YOU. I want to worship every inch of your beautiful body.” He reaches up and adjusts your head so you are looking to the side and he has perfect view of your jugular.

“From here…” he licks a long stripe down your neck and you let out an involuntary moan at the contact.

“To here…” he slowly drags his hand down the middle of your sternum, to your stomach and eventually landing the tip of his finger right on the center of your clit.

“Danny, please” you breathe. The sensation and desire causing you to screw your eyes shut. You shift your hips to create some friction between his fingertip and yourself, but he quickly takes it away.

“Hey. I said that I was going to make you feel good. Let’s not rush it. I only just got you back.” He smiles and begins his decent to your chest. With one hand cupping your left breast, kneading it with gentle pressure, he then takes your right nipple in his mouth, as slowly as possible. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling of his wet tongue swirling circles over the sensitive bud. To add to your misery, he follows your whimpers with the sexiest and deepest groans you have ever heard.

“Daniel,” you look him in the eyes and hope he sees how badly you want him, immediately.

“Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you. Let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable.” He lets out a light laugh and in a second you are swooped into the air, him lifting you up bridal style and carrying you to his bedroom. He kicks the door open with his foot, not even bothering to turn on a light.

“I need you. So bad.” He whispers into your ear.

His words adding fuel to the fire in deep in your stomach. He lays you down gently on his bed, your head hits his pillow and you can smell the scent of his shampoo. You hope this moment never ends.

His calloused hands run down the length of your body.

“You are so beautiful….such a gorgeous body. Do you know how long I have thought that?” He asks, unbuttoning your jeans.

“Tell me.” You reply, squirming for his touch. He pulls off your jeans painfully slow.

“Do you remember the day we met?” He asks smoothing his hands up and down your thighs.

Please don’t stop.

“Yes…” You feel his fingertips brush over the top of your thong, gently pressing into the fabric as he kneels in front of you.

“The first night we came into the bar… I saw you behind the counter. You had your hair up, and a tank top on. I remember seeing the neon signs glowing off of your skin, the smile on your face when you would talk to someone…. I couldn’t look away. I was completely captivated.” He says pressing a kiss to your center, over the fabric.

“At the time I was with Olivia so I couldn’t even talk to you. So I just sat, and I watched you all night.” He says kissing your inner thigh, causing you to arch your back. “I wanted you, but I couldn’t have you.”

He hooks his fingers through the sides of your panties and begins slowly dragging them down your body, tossing them to the side.

Biting your thigh ever so gently he says, “Open for me baby.”

Baby…

“Every night we would come in, I would think about all the ways I wanted you…” he says between kisses “Wanted you for myself.”

You open for him and you feel his hands slide upwards towards your center before stopping. One more soft kiss, placed right over your core.

You feel his hand slide up and off of your waist, feeling through the sheets, finding your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding your hand in his. His other rests gently on your hip.

You feel his warm tongue swipe up through your center. A gasp leaving your mouth. His hand grips into your hip, as his tongue makes the connection again, this time lingering, licking small circles over your clit. He is taking his time, being slow and deliberate. Savoring you. Your hips buck upward into him

“Danny…” you whimper breathlessly.

“The best sound in the world…” he says, between passes at your core.

His hand releases yours and grabs your other hip, pulling your body down the bed and into his face continuing his assault on your center, before he pulls away completely.

“Can we try something?” He asks.

“Like what?” You ask.

“I’m gonna lay here, and you’re going to straddle my face. Want to have you this way. Dreamt of it.” He says.

He lays down on the bed, and taps your leg giving you the signal to climb over him. You straddle his face and his arms wrap around your legs, pulling you closer to his mouth. You feel him connect his lips around your clit and cry out at the new feeling.

“Oh god…it feels so different….” You whine.

A muffled, ‘mmmhmm’ leaving his chest. You begin to rock your hips back and forth as he desperately laps at your center.

With each movement of your hips you are getting closer and closer to the edge. His nose is nudging against your clit each time, causing you to unravel faster than you intended. To try and hold on a bit longer you decide to focus on him for a minute. You reach down and run your fingers into his hair, feeling for the elastic tying it up. You find it and gently remove the band putting it on your wrist, letting his hair flow freely around his face.

He is so gorgeous.

He pulls his face away from you panting, before you feel a finger sliding through your folds, collecting the wetness.

“You are so ready, baby.” He pants.

“I need you… please. I want you so bad.” You reply.

In an instant he is again connecting his lips to your clit, sucking gently as the finger plunges inside of you, curling to reach your sensitive spot.

“Danny, I’m not gonna last… please.” you beg.

“Cum for me beautiful. Please… Let me taste you. Cum right on my face.” He says.

Another finger enters you and you feel your orgasm about to tip over the edge. He flattens his tongue and runs it slowly thorough you, sucking your clit as hard as he can, sending you flying over the edge you were teetering on. Your hips rock down into his face as your orgasm wracks through your body, a scream leaving your mouth. As you come down from your blissful state, you slide backwards and lean over him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Danny… I…I’m sorry I slept with him…” you pant into his chest.

He swipes the hair from your neck, petting your head “I know baby…It’s okay… but let me remind you why you were still thinking about me with someone else inside of you.”

Please.

Suddenly he is flipping your hips to lay you on the bed. Your head once again resting on his pillow. He pulls off his sweatpants and boxers before rejoining you at the head of the bed.

His lips find yours, his tongue asking for entrance into your mouth. You part your lips, and your tongues begin to swirl together, you can taste yourself on him. His hair hangs down, the tips gently tickling your face and shoulders. You reach your arm up and pull his body down to lay on top of yours. His hand reaches between the two of you, grasping his dick and sliding it through your wetness.

With one hand on your face his thumb slides over your lips, before pressing into your mouth. You wrap your lips around it and suck it further into your mouth. Suddenly you feel him pressing into your core. You groan at the sudden pressure and fullness. He groans at the sensation of finally having you wrapped around him again.

His hand comes up next to your head and he lifts up, bearing his weight on it. He pulls his hips back and slams back into you with a grunt. He removes his thumb from your mouth and taking it, he reaches between you and places it firmly on your clit.

“Oh god, please….” You whine.

“Feel good, beautiful?” He asks, picking up his pace, slamming in and out of you.

“I wanna fuck you slow baby, don’t want to cum too fast, and god I could just blow right now… But you feel so fucking tight and perfect around me. I don’t know if I can go slow.” He says, out of breath.

You grab his wrist and pull it gently to your neck silently asking for the pressure of his fingers around your throat.

“You want me to choke you, dirty girl?” He says, gripping your throat.

Your insides light on fire. Only for him. He presses down and a groan escapes your lips, as you stare directly into his beautiful eyes.

He throws his head back for a second before looking back down at you.

“God, I….. I cant fucking live with out you. Without this…” He says hitting your spot over and over as he releases your throat.

The pressure builds inside of you.

“Danny….I’m gonna cum… “ you say

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He grunts.

“Please… let me cum for you…” You beg.

“Jesus Christ you are so fucking perfect. Cum for me beautiful. Right now.” He demands, and as if he wired your brain you let go and let your orgasm wash over you again, at his hands.

He bends down and places an open mouthed kiss right on your throat.

“I can feel how hard your heart is beating for me. Only me.” He breathes. Goosebumps running up your skin.

“Lay on your stomach.” He says pulling out and flipping you over.

He grabs a pillow and taps your hip, asking you to lift up, as he slides the pillow under your pelvis.

He moves your hair to one side gently placing a kiss on your shoulder blade, causing your body to squirm.

He lines himself up with you and slides right back into you with ease.

“Ahhhhh fuckk…..you are so tight like this, god I love it…” he groans.

“Fuck me Danny, please. Be rough, I want it to hurt.” You say.

“If I start I don’t think I’ll be able to stop, are you sure?” He asks.

“Please…” you whisper.

He grabs a hand full of your hair, pulling your head back as a gasp leaves your lips.

He pulls out and forcefully slams back in with a loud grunt. He grabs both of your hips lifting you slightly off of the pillow as his hips snap back and forth into you loud moans crying out from his chest. His hand releases your hip before crashing into your ass with a stinging slap.

“You’re mine! You’re fucking mine.” He demands. “Say it!”

“I’m yours! I’m yours Danny, I’ve always been yours. It’s you, it’s always been you. Please please, keep going. Don’t stop!” You cry.

His hips start to move faster and more jagged, you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, and you know he is close. The headboard of his bed and crashing violently against the wall.

“Fuck, baby. You were made for me. I am not going to last much longer” he pants.

“Danny, cum, please…fill me, I want you everywhere… I need it.” You whine.

You tighten around him as you let your self go for the final time, his name crying from your lips.

“Danny….. oh fuck…. Feels so fucking good baby….”

He tenses up and you can feel his grip tighten on you.

“Ahhh. Fuck… I... love you….” He moans as you feel his release washing over your insides in warm shots.

He loves me.

He collapses on top of you kissing your neck and face over and over before pulling out of you.

“You’re so good, baby. I’ve been craving you for weeks. Every time is even better than I could dream of.”

You smile back at him, rolling over to face him. You run your hand over his bicep, caressing his muscles that are so prominent.

“I meant it, you know.” he says, looking straight into your eyes.

“Meant what?” You question, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“I love you. I wasn’t just saying that in the moment, it’s true. I have spent what feels like a lifetime between last night and this morning trying to figure out what I feel for you and it always comes back to that. I love you. All of you. Every single part.” you can feel his heart beating fast, yours matching his tempo.

“Danny….I love you too. I’m sorry it took both of us so long to realize it.” you place a chaste kiss to his bottom lip and lace your fingers in his, giving him a squeeze.

“All that matters is that we are here now.” He squeezes your hand back and sits up, running his fingers through your hair, smoothing it back. He exits the bed and walks to the bathroom.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling for a moment, taking in everything that has happened over the last 24 hours. You look to your right and notice the time on the clock reads 5:03am. It’s morning now.

You hear the shower turn on, and Danny pokes his head out the door.

“Come on beautiful, let’s take a shower.” He says.

DANNY POV

“It should be warm enough now, you can go ahead, I’ll join you in a second.” You say as she steps through the bathroom door. Her beautiful figure is perched on the door frame watching you. She smiles and steps into through the glass door, the water flowing over her perfect skin.

You catch yourself smiling at her, before turning on your heels to walk to your dresser. You grab a pair of boxers and a t-shirt for her, and place it on the night stand. You shake out the comforter and re-lay it on the bed, placing the clothes for her on her pillow.

You walk back to the bathroom and see her through the foggy glass, washing her hair. You step into the shower joining her and she opens her eyes and smiles. You smile too, committing this to memory.

She reaches out her hand and pulls you closer to her, until your dry body is pressed against her wet one.

“Are you gonna get wet or are you just going to stand there staring at me?” She asks.

You smirk at her and reach your hands up cupping her face and placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“Please never stop running that smart mouth.” You say.

She smiles and continues rinsing her hair, stepping back and letting you under the spray. You wet your body and your hair pushing it back out of your face. She grabs your body wash and begins to rubs her hands all over her body while staring directly into your eyes.

“Did you not get enough?” You ask cheekily, rinsing your shampoo out of your hair.

“Never.” She replies.

Oh shit. Stay down.

“Baby, its 5 in the morning…” you reply, water dripping off your face.

She grabs the body wash this time rubbing it into your skin. Her hands glide up your stomach, over your chest and back down your arms.

“I know, I’m just teasing you.” She says playfully stepping under the spray and rinsing her body.

You grab her in your arms and pull her into you wrapping your arms around her shoulders and hers sliding around your waist. You press a kiss to the top of her head before turning your head to rest on the top of hers. You stand there just holding her for a second.

“You done baby?” You ask.

“Only if you’re planning on cuddling me when we get out.” she says.

You smile, probably harder than you should. “Oh, believe me, I am never letting you go.”

You open the glass door and grab her towel handing it to her, before grabbing your own. You both dry yourselves, and walk into the bedroom.

“For me?” She asks picking up the t-shirt.

“If you want it… gonna be cold tonight…” you say with a smirk.

She lifts it to her face breathing in the material. “Smells like you…”

“Well, I happen to be right here.” You reply.

She smiles and slides the shirt over her head, and the boxers over her legs.

She is so beautiful.

“Do you happen to have a hairbrush?” She asks.

“I do, would you like it?” You reply.

“Do you mind?” She asks.

You pull your boxers on and walk over the bathroom, opening your cabinet drawer and pulling out the brush. You walk back the the bed, where she is sitting at the end, legs folded, the t-shirt enveloping her body in the best way. You hand her the brush and she begins to slowly pull it through her hair.

I have to touch it.

“Can I…. Can I do it?” You ask nervously.

“You want to?” She asks.

You nod and accept the brush back from her, you kneel onto the bed behind her and sit. You use your free hand to gently grab all the wet hair in her face and pull it all to rest on her back. You start at the top of her scalp and slowly pull the brush through the wet strands. She tips her head back at the feeling of someone doing this for her.

You never truly took the time to see her this way. She is so soft and warm. So tender. Just naturally pretty.

You do her whole head slowly and methodically, until it all lays neatly across her back. You slide it all to one side, and place a soft kiss to her neck as she squirms under your lips.

“I love you.” You say, truly feeling nothing but love for her in that moment.

She turns her head, bringing her hand to your face, “I love you too Danny. So much.” Before pressing her lips so delicately to yours.

“Can we go to sleep now?” She asks.

“Yes, come here.” You say pulling the comforter back. You slide under and open your arms to her. She turns off the lamp and slides backwards into your body, pushing her wet hair to the side, leaving her neck exposed. She pushes back a little more, fitting perfectly against you. Like she was made to fit right there.

You wrap your arms around her and her fingers lace with yours, you place one more kiss softly on her neck and whisper “I hope this is how all my nights end, from now on.”

“Me too, baby.” she replies with a yawn.

Having her wrapped in your arms, you feel that hole in your chest growing smaller and smaller. You were so sure you’d never love again after Olivia. But then she came along and turned your entire world upside down. You’re going to do this right this time. You can’t lose her. Not ever. You close your eyes to the darkness as the sun light slowly creeps into the sky.

The alarm rings far too soon. You pry your eyes open and hit the orange snooze button, hoping it didn’t wake her. You force your eyes open and see her passed out on the pillow, tiny breaths leaving her slightly parted mouth. You close your eyes and fall back asleep for just a tiny bit longer. When the alarm goes off again you turn it off and convince yourself to get up. You see its 12:00 and you know you have to be at the studio in just a few hours, and you still have to try and go over your notes from yesterdays session and make some tweaks.

As quietly as you can you roll out of bed, pulling the comforter back up to cover more of her top half. You walk over the the windows and pull the curtains shut quietly before grabbing your phone and walking out, shutting the door behind you as carefully as you can.

First things first, coffee.

You start a pot of coffee, then walking to the laundry room to find something to put on. You find a pair of joggers and a t-shirt and quickly pull them both on. You walk back to the kitchen to see the coffee just beginning to drop into the pot.

God, come on…

You walk over to the couch and sit placing your feet on the coffee table. You pull out your phone and scroll through Instagram seeing what you have been tagged in overnight, giggling at memes and edits people have made giving them the like they deserve.

You stand and walk over to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Yikes, you remember why you cant go to bed with wet hair… you’ll have to deal with that later.

You grab the elastic band you see sitting on the table and pull your hair up into a messy knot.

The coffee is finally ready and you pull two mugs down, something you will never get tired of.

You pour yourself a cup, and leave the other empty, knowing she will sleep for at least another hour or so.

You grab your phone, and your mug and head into your office. You sit down at the desk and take a sip from the mug. The warmth of the coffee wetting your dry throat, and waking up your body. You set the mug down and spin in your chair looking for your work notebook.

You grab a pencil and begin furiously going over all of your notes from yesterday. Jake had a few edits he wanted to make to one of the songs and had an idea for you.

You grab your headphones sliding them over your head and jiggling the mouse for your computer, waking up the screen. You sip your coffee and see a notification on your phone.

Josh K: You’re coming right?

Shit, you were not looking forward to that conversation.

You: Yes.

Josh: Ok.

For the next hour or so you work on your computer, getting the sample done and sent to Jake so he can preview it before you cut the track today.

You: Just sent sample, give it a listen so we can try to cut today.

Jacob K: Oh you’re coming?

You: Yes, why?

Jacob K: Were you present last evening?

You: I’m going to talk to Josh, it’s all good.

Jacob K: Interesting.

As you set your phone down the desk you hear a creak at the door and see her standing watching you.

“Good morning beautiful girl. Well, afternoon now, I guess.” You smile.

She walks in, her wavy hair flowing around her face that is smiling at you with tired eyes. You motion for her to sit on your lap and she does, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

“What are you working on?” She asks.

“I am just revising this song so that I could send a sample to Jake. We are going to try and recut this today… Do you want to hear it?” You ask.

She nods her head yes and you grab the headphones and place them over her head, making sure you turn the volume down a bit. You play the sample and see her nod her head a little bit. You rest your hand on her thigh, and she lays her hand on top of yours.

When it finishes, she takes the headphones off. “You know, I would never have expected that you guys to sound like that.” She says laughing.

You pull your head back, “What do you mean? You’ve…. Never… listened our music?” You ask shocked.

“No. I actually never have… I thought it might be weird if I was… a fan.” She laughs.

“You know what? I kind of love that. But we are going to have to get you up to speed. There is a lot you will need to know…you know, as the drummer’s girlfriend.” He smiles.

“Oh, really? The drummer’s girlfriend?” She asks coyly.

“Yeah, I hear she’s really beautiful, and smart, and funny and he is totally in love with her.” You say.

“Are you saying that you want me to be your girlfriend Daniel?” She asks.

Yes, I want you to be everything…

“If you want to be, I cant think of anything I want more…” You reply.

“I’ll have to think about it…Does the drummer’s girlfriend get any coffee?”

“Oh yes, among other great perks.” You reply.

“Yeah I feel the perk pressing into my leg right now…” she jokes.

You smile at her mischievously, “Yes baby, there is coffee in the pot and a mug on the counter, but I will get it for you. You just go sit your pretty self on the couch and let me wait on you.”

“Okay, well I thought about it…I want to be the drummer’s girlfriend. I am very interested in the perks.” She laughs.

You stare into her eyes, lingering on them for a few seconds before you find yourself saying “I love you.”

She leans over and presses her lips to yours. “Love you, drummer boyfriend.” She says getting up and walking off with a wink. A smile crossing your lips.

God damn you’ve got it bad.

The rest of the time you have goes by far too quickly. You spent a little time with her talking and enjoying each other, then you took a quick shower just so you could fix your hair, got dressed and next thing you know you are grabbing your keys to leave.

“You’ll be there tonight right?” You ask her.

“No, I’m off tonight actually.” She replies.

“Oh, but you’ll still come though?” You ask.

“I can… but you need to work things out with the guys first.” She says grabbing her things, ready to leave too.

“Yes, please come. I promise I am going to talk to all of them as soon as I get there.” You say letting her walk out the door, you following behind her.

You lock the door, and grab her hand. “I am going to make this right. I promise. Trust me.”

“Okay, I believe you. Just text me what time.” She says.

You give her a quick kiss and you both walk to your cars. Heading in separate directions.

The whole way to the studio all you can think about is what you’re going to say to Josh. You’re fairly confident that you wouldn’t be where you are with her now if he hadn’t talked to her last night. You feel like you need to thank him, but also you want to punch him square in the face for sleeping with her….

But she is right, he had no idea….

You pull up at the studio, you’re the first one there, as usual. You walk in the front door, and sit on the couch in the sound room, waiting for them all to saunter in at their leisure.

Sam walks in first, “Hello Daniel, ol’ chap, how did you fair last night?” He asks in a joking tone.

“Honestly, I was so furious, I thought I might actually drive over to Josh’s house and strangle him. But it would have been no use because he was at her damn apartment.” You reply.

“Oh, so today should be super fun and productive!” He says sarcastically.

“Well, I wasn’t finished, around 3 in the morning I hear a knock at my door, and guess who?” You ask.

“Oh god, was it her!?” He asks shocked.

“Yes…Apparently Josh went over to her apartment and basically showed her the facts of the situation, and helped her realize, that… well…. She loves me, and she always has.” You reply.

“What?! There is no way… you… you two…” he stammers.

“No dude, I fucking love her too. Bad.” You say laughing.

“Holy shit…. I KNEW it!” He yells. “I swear to god I heard you moan her name in your sleep on the bus a few weeks ago…”

“I probably did, I couldn’t get her out of my head. Still cant. Don’t want to either.” You reply.

Jake walks in looking like he just rolled out of bed. He sees Sam’s excited energy and looks to you and raises his eyebrows.

“Daniel?” He asks setting down his guitar case, placing his hands in his pockets, furrowing his brow more.

“They’re in LOVE!” Sam blurts out pointing at you.

“Is that so? Can’t say I’m surprised. You are quite the catch these days, Daniel.” He says with a smirk. “Glad you both figured it out.”

“Oh we figured it out… a few times.” You joke.

You all share a laugh as Josh walks into the booth. You all drop the smiles from your faces when he looks at you.

“Oh come on… what?” He asks. “I am only 10 minutes late this time!”

“You ready to get started?” Jake asks, changing the subject.

“Let’s do it, did you listen to that sample?” You ask.

“Yes, sounds better. Let’s start with that.” He replies.

Josh is acting very normal around you. You thought things would be tense. You were so mad at him, but somehow it seems to be fading away, and now you’re just thankful for him. You are still going to talk to him alone later, but for now, you’re just going to let things ride.

A few hours later, you are all sitting back in the booth, editing the last few minutes of your recuts for the day.

“Sixty’s?” Sam asks.

“I’m in.” Jake says, placing his guitar in the hard case, clipping the locks.

“Yeah, I will meet you guys there.” You reply, pulling your phone out, sending her a quick text.

“Okay, twist my arm…” Josh jokes.

Sam and Jake leave and Josh gathers his things and starts to head out, before you stop him.

“Josh, we need to talk.” You say.

“I know, I was hoping to avoid it though.” He smiles.

“I’m sorry about last night man, I was so heated. Didn’t occur to me that you had no idea.” You say crossing your arms.

“No, I didn’t know and I’m sorry I slept with your girl. I would have never…. You know, if I had known…” he stammers.

“Thank you. For talking to her last night. I owe you everything for sending her back to me.” You say.

“Brother, I would do anything for you. I knew she loved you 5 minutes into our conversation. She told me everything I would ever hope someone would say about me one day. I told her she needed to go tell you all of that. I’m guessing everything went well?” He asks.

“It did…more than well. I just don’t want there to be any hard feelings between us. I love her, but dude I love you too. Need you both.” You smile softly at him.

“Ah, you cant get rid of me that easily. No hard feelings. Love her hard, she deserves it.” He says, grabbing his stuff and gesturing to walk outside. You lock the studio door and tell him you’ll meet him there.

You and Josh park at the same time, looking at each other through your car windows and giving a small salute with your fingers. It is going to take some time for things to feel completely normal again, but for now you are just glad that the two of you have gotten past the worst of it.

You open the door and usher Josh in before you step inside yourself to the dive bar that you’ve come to love so much. You’re greeted by the familiar scent of beer and stale popcorn, the neon lights casting a shine that gives you hope for what the future has in store.

Today is the start of something new, a new beginning. With her.

You see Sam and Jake already perched at your favorite table, puzzled looks on their faces when they see you and Josh laughing and playfully punching each other as you make your way there.

“Oof. I am ready for a cocktail. Who’s buying?” Josh sits down and looks to his brothers to see who will offer first.

After a minute of silence Sam is the first to give in. “Alright fine…” he jokingly stomps away to the bar to grab the first round.

As he’s ordering the drinks you hear a bell, indicating someone new has entered the bar. She walks in and immediately your stomach is full of butterflies, unsure of how to act with her in public for the first time since everything has happened. You can tell she feels uneasy too, not wanting to make eye contact with the table yet and walking faster than usual. When she finally approaches the table, Josh is the first to speak.

“Ahhh, there she is. If you can’t be serving us, your company is the next best thing.” he gives her a warm smile and she returns it. You see Jake watching their interaction, unsure of what to think. The confusion only grows deeper as she sits down next to you, giving you a kiss on the cheek and scooting her chair as close as possible. You place your arm around her shoulders to calm her nerves.

Before he can ask any questions, Sam is back at the table with the round of drinks as promised.

“Alright you bastards,” he starts while handing everyone their drink of choice. Once everyone has something in hand he raises his up to the ceiling.

“To all of us getting along again, and to whatever fucked up things happened staying in the past. All that matters is that my brothers are happy.” To that everyone hums in unison, taking a sip of their alcohol. You squeeze your arm around your girl and kiss her forehead. Finally feeling like everything came together the way it was supposed to.

Josh pats your back and gives you a smile, which seems to be enough for Jake to let it go, him taking a swig of his beer and focusing his attention on the door. You realize that Sam is also looking at the door, and his face is completely drained of color, looking like he’s seen a ghost. You turn your head towards the door and can’t process what you are seeing. You recoil your arm and sit up straight, trying to look strong and confident.

Fuck. You know you aren’t seeing things correctly, you’re definitely hallucinating. This is not real.

“Well… to what do we owe this great pleasure?” Sam asks sarcastically as she approaches your table.

“C’mon Sammy, after all the years we’ve known each other THAT is how you greet me? I’m hurt.” she lets out a dry laugh and focuses her attention to you. It takes all of your strength to not make eye contact, but you slowly look up.

You’re mistaken though, she isn’t looking at you at all. Her stare is trained on the beautiful girl to your left.

No, not now. This cannot be happening. Please.

“Hi, I’m Olivia. I’m sure Daniel has told you all about me…” she extends her hand with a giggle.

Fuck.

Fin.

Not ready to let go? Find out what happens next by reading Crave, the sequel to Muse, located under my Josh Tab.

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hayleesoph · 6 months ago

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König x civvy!Brooklynn

König x OC

könig cannot resist that absolutely divine piece of cake he see’s from across the street, so he doesn’t hold back…

warning’s and tags: eating absolute ass, not very well written as this is my first fanfic, consentual but he is partially unconscious!!! goodluck and i love y’all!!

also guys wtf did i just write

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König enters his military assigned room, which was less than comfortable, but it was all he had to call home. Unfortunately for him and his large size, the shower rooms and bed’s were dangerously tiny compared to his large frame. This made his only humane tasks, cleaning himself and getting a good nights rest, practically anything he got to do outside of the field, terribly annoying. In fact, most of the time they did the exact opposite of what he wanted them to do

“Scheiß” he muttered under his breath, talking out loud as if anyone could hear him. Even if they could, it’s not like they would be able to understand his native tongue. Frustrated with the way his cozy pajamas were fitting him after subtly shrinking in the wash, or maybe he was just getting even larger, who’s to say. Though, that had angered him so badly he decided to change his entire plans for the night.

Instead of submitting to his aching body and allowing it the rest it truly needed, he decided going to the local bar and drinking the pain away would perhaps be more suitable. With that being said, he threw on a pair of green cargo pants, a black shirt with a more relaxed fit than his usual compression shirts offered him, and a pair of old combat boots he had worn out to death. He then began his walk to the pub, not expecting much more from this night other than drinking himself to waste, but little did he know this night would be one he’d remember til the day he died…

As König made his way to the bar, he had suddenly felt this intense surge of emotion. He couldn’t out his finger on what had caused it, but he knew it was something worth noting. Although he wasn’t planning on being so emotional, he couldn’t help himself. Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, he burst into laughter, a hearty laugh that had caught the attention of a pedestrian on the other side of the street.

This wasn’t any normal pedestrian, though. It was a woman. One of the most beautiful women König had ever laid his eyes on. She had dat crazy curvy bod, with flowing blond hair and green eyes. She was fitted up in a cunty red dress, almost too short on her backside which was absolutely PHAT. After his laugh had caught her attention, they made eye contact from across the road.

“h-h-h-h-hey!” this strange, gorgeoud woman had said from across the road.

“hello over there” könig had said in a strangley seductive voice.

“you are soooo fine! let me eat your booty NOW!!!” yelled brooklynn from across the road.

König, initially flustered, responded with an excited affirmation! he began to cross the road when all of a sudden-

BOOM!!!💥

König is hit by a large semi truck going 80 down this small town road!

“holy bazinga” exclaims brooklynn as she runs into the street to help him. she adresses his wounds and them remember her secret alpha powers…

“i know what i need to do to save you life!! give me consent to eat your butt please!!!!!”

könig, but sure how this would help, agreed, because if this is how be was gonna die, at least a beautiful woman would be in his tushy while it happened.

brooklynn ripped könig oants off with a pop of his pants button. there they lay, in the middle of this street road covered in blood while her face shoved in his booty. as she licked and rimmed and sucked and ate his booty, he somehow felt himself start to regain consciousness. the more and more she feasted on his keister, the more his wounds began to heal! it was a miracle, könig thought, how is she doing this!!!!

after he had been fully healed and booty fully ate, brooklynn stood up and walked into the shadows, never to be seen again.

könig made a full recovery, and he would never tell a soul about this strange incident, but at night time when he was lonely in that small military issued cot, he’d always think about her. she was the forst thing he thought about when he woke up, and the last thing he thought about when he closed his eyes late at night and submitted to his sleep.

thanks for reading this, i love you guys!😙😙

#könig x oc #könig cod #sorry for this!!

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talonslockau · 1 year ago

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Fire and Ice - Chapter 24

Chapter 23 || Index || Chapter 25

The night of the long-awaited Gathering had finally arrived. Though they did their best to hide it from him, Firepaw could tell Graypaw and Pepperpaw, the winners of the contest, were getting more and more excited to be going to their first Gathering. He couldn't blame them; in their place, he would be excited too.

Ravenpaw had been avoiding him since the morning he'd witnessed the skittish apprentice speaking to the strange calico. He supposed that was because he didn't want any more questions in regards to the mystery cat, and Firepaw understood that. Even now, as all the apprentices sat and waited for Bluestar's announcement, he could tell the black tom would rather be anywhere else.

"I wish I could go with you guys. I bet all the great warriors will be there! Stonestep, Blizzardwing…" Cinderpaw mewed, not trying to hide her envy. "And this will be the first Gathering since Shadowclan invaded Windclan! Do you think it'll be dangerous?"

"It might." Pepperpaw admitted, ducking her head. "But that's why we've been sparring so much lately, isn't it? If Shadowclan tries anything, we'll be able to defend ourselves." Though outwardly the spotted molly seemed confident, Firepaw could tell she was nervous. He had to imagine he would feel the same way. Even with the truce, both Clans had proven to be exceptionally aggressive. Who knew if the truce would hold?

"I'm not gonna let Shadowclan stop me from enjoying myself." Graypaw boasted, puffing out his fluffy chest. "Let all the Clans see how courageous Thunderclan apprentices are! We laugh in the face of those who oppose us."

"What a speech!" Firepaw flicked his tail approvingly as a purr rumbled from his throat. "Well, you give the other Clans my regards. I'll be here protecting camp while you brave heroes are away. You never know, Shadowclan might try to take advantage of the code… they've certainly been doing that enough lately."

"That's what I'm worried about." Pepperpaw sighed at the mention of the code. "One-eye is always talking about how Shadowclan will invade our borders on the night of the full moon. If Brokenstar is in charge, they might take it a step further and attack the camp directly."

"Dad said Bluestar will be sending a patrol to the Shadowclan border, just in case. I'm not worried." Cinderpaw yawned and dipped into a stretch, before leaping out of it excitedly. "Look, there she is! C'mon, let's see which unlucky larks get stuck patrolling while you're at the Gathering."

Firepaw could repeat word for word what Bluestar was about to say, yet still listened patiently as her voice rang out across camp. "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join me beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!"

Cats from all over camp swarmed the Highrock, eager to see which warriors would be selected for the honor of going to the Gathering, in addition to those unfortunate enough to get the first night patrol.

"The full moon rises once more. This Gathering will be the first since Brokenstar cast out the elders and chased away Windclan. I will not let him get away with these sickening transgressions on the warrior code." Bluestar looked down on all of the cats assembled beneath her. "It may be dangerous. We also cannot forget that Brokenstar may break the code once again and make an assault on our borders, or worse, on our camp. Though we are well reinforced through the efforts of each and every one of you, I still want fighters to remain behind tonight." She paused, glancing towards the apprentices, and Firepaw thought he felt his heart skip a beat. "For this reason, I want all queens and elders to remain behind, ready to defend the camp."

Firepaw let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he looked towards the elders. He expected them to be angry, as they had the last time they'd been barred from the Gathering, but this time they seemed unsurprised. Perhaps they had decided to stay behind themselves, given the circumstances.

"Tonight I will be bringing with me Tigerclaw, Lionheart, Tinyfrost, Dappleshine, Mousefur, Mistspring, Ravenpaw, Pepperpaw, Graypaw, and Firepaw." Bluestar announced as she picked each cat out of the crowd with her piercing blue gaze. "Sandstorm, Patchpelt, Longtail and Dewpaw will have the first night patrol, while Whitestorm, Darkstripe, and Willowbranch will have the second. I expect our borders to be guarded as well as our camp while we are at the Gathering." She flicked her tail towards the entrance. "Clan dismissed."

"Firepaw?" Cinderpaw gasped from beside him, wide blue eyes turning to stare at him. "Did you know about this?"

"No! I had no idea!" Firepaw protested, his tail bristling in shock. Why would Bluestar have called his name? "It must be some mistake. I'm still being punished for what happened with Yellowfang. Maybe I should talk to her-"

"It's not a mistake." Tinyfrost interrupted, pushing his way through the crowd to stand in front of his apprentice. "And as much as I'd like to claim it, it's not my doing either. It was actually Yellowfang that requested your presence at the Gathering."

"Yellowfang?" Firepaw glanced over at his friends in disbelief. "Why would she want me to go? I attacked her and broke her leg!"

Tinyfrost twitched his whiskers in amusement at his apprentice’s words. "Yes, I do recall that happening. And it surprised me as well when Bluestar told me. But it seems as though you've made quite the impression on her. She insisted on it, and Bluestar agreed you've been performing admirably otherwise. She decided you deserve a treat."

He couldn't help but break into a grin. "She really said that?" If Bluestar thought he was doing well, then…

"She did." Tinyfrost confirmed with a dip of his head. "Now come on. We're going to miss the patrol if we don't hurry up."

Firepaw nodded, leaping to his feet. "Right away, Tinyfrost." He purred, looking at the others. "C'mon, let's get going!"

"You know, I hoped I'd get to experience my first Gathering with you, after our first patrol together." Graypaw said as he brushed up beside the ginger tom on their way to meet Bluestar and the other cats chosen to go with her. "I'm glad Bluestar changed her mind. This feels right."

"I know what you mean." Firepaw grinned at his friend. "I was looking forward to a Gathering with you too. We saw Fourtrees during the day, but it must look so different under the full moon… I can't wait."

"What am I, crowfood?" Pepperpaw asked from behind them as Bluestar gave the signal to move forward. "I'm here too, you know."

Firepaw pushed his way through the well-fortified entrance, his fur snagging on a stray bramble. "Of course, Pepperpaw. I would never forget you or Ravenpaw." He replied as he made his way up the ravine side. "It's too bad Dewpaw and Cinderpaw can't be here too."

He paused at the top as the rest of the apprentices scrambled up after him. "I think it's better Dewpaw isn't here. She's never liked meeting new cats. A whole event about that isn't really her thing." Pepperpaw spoke softly at the mention of her sister, as though she was afraid that the small molly would somehow overhear. "As for Cinderpaw… I'd rather not spend my first Gathering trying to put out whatever fires she manages to make."

"Cinderpaw would definitely challenge a Shadowclan apprentice to a spar the moment she got there." Graypaw purred, tail flicking in amusement. "Or get into an argument with a Riverclanner over Sunningrocks. Or find a way to-"

"I'd prefer not to think about it." Pepperpaw interrupted him, ears flat as she padded alongside them. "C'mon. We should hurry if we want to keep up with the rest of the patrol."

Indeed, Bluestar was beginning to quicken her pace as they entered the forest. It was a similar pace to that Lionheart, Whitestorm and Tinyfrost had taken when Firepaw had first entered the forest; now, however, he kept pace with them easily. Two moons of training had done wonders for his endurance and speed.

He couldn't help but admire how far he had come. He was the same size as Tinyfrost now, maybe even a bit bigger. He could identify each cat in the Clan by sight, sound, or smell alone, and was a formidable hunter and fighter in his own right. No cat could look at him now and call him a lazy kittypet; he was as capable as any forest-born Clan cat.

Their trip through the moonlit forest was quiet and uneventful, the patrol focused on the Gathering that awaited them rather than concerning themselves with idle chatter. Even Firepaw couldn't find it within himself to talk to the other apprentices; his thoughts were focused on what awaited them.

It seemed like both an eternity and no time at all had passed when they reached the stream that separated their territory from the land around Fourtrees. "Be careful." Quickflash stood next to the fallen tree that stretched across as the warriors and apprentices filed past. "It can be slippery, especially after a rain-"

"We know, Dad." Graypaw purred, brushing his cheek against his father's before leaping atop the sturdy log, his claws digging into the wood below him as he made his way across.

"Just making sure." Quickflash sighed as his daughter stepped up next. "Your first Gathering… I only wish Willowbranch could be here to see it too."

"I know, Dad. You're just looking out for us." Pepperpaw nuzzled under his chin reassuringly. "There will be another Gathering with Cinderpaw and Dewpaw that she can see. And she'll get to see us introduced as warriors, too."

The young deputy looked away, but Firepaw didn't miss the smile that flashed across his muzzle. "I know there will. Up you go, now." He nudged his daughter up on the log as Firepaw stepped forward.

"Yea, yea." Pepperpaw made her way halfway across before looking back to Firepaw, green eyes shining brightly. "Hurry up, slowpoke!"

"Why don't you hurry up first!" Firepaw called as she made her way safely to the other side before bounding up himself. "We'd already be there if you weren't holding up the line."

"Oh, hush." She rolled her eyes as he landed nimbly beside her. "You know I'm just as excited as you are to see the other Clans."

He heard another thud behind him, and turned to see Quickflash approaching Bluestar. "That's everyone." He told the leader smoothly, dipping his head respectfully as he stood beside her.

"Very well." The leader gracefully stepped forward, the flash of silver catching the gaze of all the assembled warriors. Wordlessly, she signaled for the assembled cats to follow her with a flick of her tail. As one, each of the warriors stalked through the bushes, silent as they ascended the smooth slope that surrounded Fourtrees.

As they reached the crest, the patrol halted, looking down on the glade that contained Fourtrees. Below them, the Great Rock glowed under the moonlight, casting a dark shadow below it. He could see two figures on top, seemingly talking to each other.

Below them, cats milled around in the grassy hollow. He could see four elders basking close to the Great Rock, their white muzzles reflecting the moonlight. In the roots of one of the giant oaks, three apprentices played a game that looked like a mix between tag and hide-and-seek. It looked almost like a Clan camp at the height of sunhigh, were it not for the lack of dens and wide, open space.

"Do you smell that? Seems like only Riverclan is here right now." Mousefur murmured to Quickflash nearby. "I can't smell any sign of Windclan or Shadowclan yet."

"The night is still young." Quickflash replied in a hushed whisper. "There's still plenty of time for both to arrive."

"You think Windclan might still make it after they were chased out by Shadowclan?" Tinyfrost's eyes were narrow as he watched the cats below them. "I hope Shadowclan isn't off invading our camp while we're out here."

"Enough." Bluestar hissed, lashing her tail in a clear signal for silence. After several moments of tense silence, she stood, the other cats following her in one fluid motion. "Remember this is a night of peace. I expect you all to be on your best behavior." She glanced warningly at the patrol on both sides of her before arching her head regally as she gazed at the clearing below.

Firepaw hesitated, wondering if she might say something else, but instead her tail rose and lashed once from side to side. The Thunderclan cats moved as one, bounding down the slope together. His heart raced with anticipation as he followed them, the other apprentices beside him.

The scent of Riverclan swirled around them as they joined with the waiting crowd, warriors greeting the other Clan as warmly as they would their own. It was strange to think that on any other day, these cats would be at each other's throats; tonight, however, they were like old friends.

Bluestar and Quickflash strode through the crowd to the Great Rock, climbing it in a few swift bounds. Above them, two warriors were waiting, an old grizzled tabby and a sleek, strangely-spotted molly.

"Look! That's Crookedstar and Leopardflame." Graypaw hissed in his ear as Firepaw looked on. "Riverclan's leader and deputy. They're so big up close!"

"They're also on a rock several fox lengths above us." Pepperpaw observed dryly on his other side. "Looks like Ravenpaw's found the other apprentices. Should we join him?"

"Not yet." Firepaw mewed, scanning the clearing. "You guys mentioned that we might get to meet some legendary warriors, right? I want to see them first." He could only imagine what they must look like; he had to imagine most of them were bigger than Tigerclaw, with giant teeth and claws to boot.

"Well, only Riverclan is here, but I bet the best place to look is wherever Tigerclaw and Lionheart are." Graypaw strained to look over the heads of the assembled crowd. "They love one-upping the other warriors with their achievements, so I'm sure they'll have found similar warriors in the Riverclan group. They only have one night to boast, after all."

"There!" Firepaw spotted the white-tipped tail of Tigerclaw disappearing through the crowd. "Let's go!"

"I'm going to go find Spottedleaf, actually." Pepperpaw mewed as she stood and stretched. "I promised Dewpaw I'd tell her about the other healers when I got back, and I'm sure Spottedleaf can help point Mudwish out to me."

"I understand. We'll come find you, when we're done." Graypaw grinned at Firepaw as his sister departed. "Shall we?"

"We shall." The two hurried in the direction of Tigerclaw, where he sat with several Riverclan warriors and Tinyfrost. They matched the giant tabby in physique, though he still looked the biggest out of all of them. It seemed even here, the Thunderclan warrior's strength was unparalleled.

His eyes were shining as he told a tale Firepaw had heard many times in camp before: the day that Redtail had died. "I wrestled like a Lionclan warrior. I had three warriors trying to hold me down, but they were nothing compared to my strength." He boasted proudly, looking down on the assembled cats smugly. "By the time I was done with them, two lay knocked out while the last was running for the river."

"Bah, I bet they were all apprentices." A tom as black as a new moon spoke up. "Have I ever told you about the time I fought Spiderfoot and Raggedstar - and won?"

"Not that old story. You've told it so many times, Shadepaw can recite it by heart!" A tom that looked as though he were made from moonlight spoke next. "I'm telling you, that was just a fluke. I bet I could take on Brokenstar, Spiderfoot, and Tigerclaw all at the same time."

Tigerclaw snorted. "Oh really, Stonestep? You're only saying that because Shadowclan isn't here yet."

The silver tom - Stonestep, Firepaw had to guess - merely chuffed at the tabby's words. "Am I? Or are you just scared I'm right?" He looked away from the muscular tabby and caught sight of the two apprentices standing there, listening. "And who might you two be? Curious little Thunderclan apprentices, I can see."

"This is my new apprentice, Firepaw, who hails from outside the Clans." Tinyfrost spoke up, flicking his tail idly. "And his friend, Graypaw, the son of Willowbranch and Quickflash, who is being mentored by Lionheart."

The ginger tom stiffened under the gaze of such mighty warriors. "H-Hello there." He mumbled, his fur prickling as he averted his eyes. Beside him, he could hear Graypaw stutter out something similar.

"Son of Quickflash? You must have been proud to see your father made deputy. I know I was, before…" He could hear Stonestep pause, his voice warbling slightly before he did. "And it's good to meet you, Firepaw. I hope Tinyfrost is teaching you well."

"He is!" The young apprentice spoke quickly as he looked back to the Riverclan warrior. "I'm learning lots. Hunting, and fighting, and-"

"Are you really Stonestep?" He had never been more grateful for Graypaw interrupting him. "Son of Oakheart himself? I've heard loads about you! The elders say you're one of the best warriors in the Clans!" He paused as he caught Tigerclaw's glare. "Not better than any of our warriors, though, of course."

"Do they?" Stonestep purred at the young tom's words. "Did Smallear ever tell you about the scar I gave him, just before he retired?"

"Alright, that's enough out of you two. Leave the real warriors to talk." Tigerclaw huffed at the two of them, flicking his one torn ear. "I'm sure you have plenty else to see before the night is over."

"Yes, Tigerclaw." The two spoke in unison, turning away with a conspiratorial grin that the warriors hopefully didn't see. He had met one of Riverclan's greatest warriors! He couldn't wait to tell Cinderpaw, when they got back. He knew the molly would be green with envy at the mere mention of him.

"C'mon, let's go see how my mentor is doing." Graypaw flicked his tail toward the golden warrior, who was sitting with the Riverclan elders. They seemed charmed to be sitting with one of Thunderclan's greatest warriors, smiling and perking their ears as he spoke.

"So then he told me he'd take all of my dawn patrols for a half-moon if I could beat his record in the Great Sycamore." As they approached, Lionheart was regaling the elders with a tale Firepaw hadn't heard before. "I was so determined to beat him, I forgot that most of the top branches couldn't carry my weight. I fell nearly two fox-lengths before I finally caught a branch sturdy enough to hold me!"

"Young warriors have always been the most foolhardy." One of the elders shook his head with a sigh. "I'm surprised Redtail didn't try and stop you two."

"That's because he beat both of us!" Lionheart roared with laughter at the memory. "He stuck us on dawn patrols every day for a whole moon! That's actually how we got to know each other." He caught sight of the two apprentices approaching, taking in a deep breath as he regained his composure. "Ah, Graypaw, Firepaw. Are you two enjoying the Gathering?"

"Yes, Lionheart." Firepaw dipped his head in greeting to the elders. "Who was that you were talking about?" He asked curiously, perking his ears to hear the golden tom's reply.

"Ah, so you two did hear that. Well, I was just telling the elders here about how Whitestorm and I became close." He flicked his tail invitingly towards them. "This is my apprentice, Graypaw. And Tinyfrost's apprentice, Firepaw. They've both been working diligently the past couple of moons. More diligently than I ever did!"

"Ah, to be young again." Another elder sighed, her whiskers twitching at unmentioned memories. "Able to fight with the strength of Lionclan and hunt with the stealth of Tigerclan. Those were the days."

"Lionclan? Tigerclan? Are those other Clans?" Firepaw asked, his brow furrowing. "I thought there were only four."

"Don't tell me Thunderclan doesn't teach their kits about the Great Clans!" The first elder scoffed at his questions. "For shame, Lionheart. No wonder the other elders didn't show their faces tonight."

"Firepaw here wasn't born in the Clans." Lionheart said quickly, glancing at the young ginger tom with an unreadable gaze before fixing his eyes on Graypaw. "My apprentice, however, was. Why don't you tell Firepaw of the Great Clans, hmm?"

Graypaw shuffled his paws nervously. "Uh, well. The three Great Clans came long before us, and ruled before even the Twolegplace existed. They were all as big as monsters, or so One-eye told me." He hesitated as he glanced at Lionheart for reassurance, to which his mentor nodded for him to continue. "Tigerclan were cats of the night, with jet-black stripes. Then there were Lionclan, with pelts like gold and a mane with rays like the sun. They're who Tigerclaw and Lionheart are named after."

Lionheart dipped his head approvingly. "Indeed. I like to think I would make quite a good Lionclan warrior, even if I am a bit small compared to them." He chuffed in amusement at his own words. "And what of the third Clan, hmm?"

Graypaw hesitated. "I, uh, I don't remember…"

"One-eye would be so disappointed." The elder molly from before spoke up, her light gray tail swishing languidly. "The last of the Great Clans is Leopardclan, swiftest of the three, that ran like the wind over prairie and forest and swam like fish in the river. They were covered by black pawprints, like our deputy Leopardflame is." She bowed her head solemnly. "It was a sign from Starclan when she was born that they are still with us today."

"Every warrior is descended from the Great Clans. It is thanks to them that we have the gifts that allow us to thrive within the forest." An old tom huffed, stretching out a brown striped paw. "It's what separates us from those kittypets the Twolegs adore."

Firepaw shifted uncomfortably at that, unsure how to respond. "Oh, go on, both of you." Lionheart rumbled with a flick of his tail. "You're obviously not interested in hearing us old-timers speak, so go find something that does interest you."

"Yes, Lionheart." Graypaw replied quickly, standing up and stretching out his back paws. "Come on, Firepaw. Let's see if we can find my sister. Hopefully she's had time to speak to Mudwish by now."

Firepaw quickly followed after him, the elder's words still on his mind. "Clan cats will really come up with anything to think they're better than kittypets." He grumbled to Graypaw as they passed through the crowd.

"Don't let it get to you." The tom replied smoothly, even as he cast a worried gaze at his friend. "It's all just an old queens' tale, anyways. Could you even imagine a cat the size of a Monster? It's just not possible." He flicked his tail towards the Great Rock. "I see her! There, at the base. She's talking to Spottedleaf and- that has to be the other healers. C'mon, let's get going."

He followed quickly on the other apprentice's heels, spying the two mollies sitting next to two other cats. One was a Riverclan tom, he could smell as he approached, but older than Spottedleaf; he smelled as though he were nearly an elder himself. He was covered in scars, including a particularly nasty one across his face.

The other was much younger, though their scent was masked in herbs, making it hard to make much else out. They sat stoically off to the side, cleaning at their ears with their white paws.

"I can't believe that he would just let a healer leave like that, even if they still have Wetnose. After Windclan, I had feared the worst, yet even I never expected that." The older healer shook his head slowly as the pair approached. "I'm glad to hear they're in your capable paws, though. If you need any herbs, you know we're only across the river. Crookedstar may not be as generous as Bluestar, but I'm certain we can spare a little help in times of need."

"Your offer is most kind, Mudwish, but we're doing well at the moment. Even with the late newleaf, herbs have been growing well in our territory. Starclan has blessed us with a good harvest." She flicked an ear towards the two apprentices. "Firepaw, Graypaw. I don't suppose you've come to learn our healer secrets, have you?"

"We're actually here for Pepperpaw." Firepaw nodded to the spotted molly as she stood up. "Are you sure you should be talking about the Shadowclan elders? I thought we weren't supposed to mention them."

Spottedleaf shrugged. "Healers are held by a separate code. We look after every cat in all of the Clans, not just our own. There are no secrets between us and Starclan." She nodded to the molly beside her. "Go on, then. Don't keep your friends waiting."

The three didn't linger, instead moving back through the two Clans mingling. "So, did you find anyone interesting?" Pepperpaw inquired, studying the two of them curiously.

"We got to talk to Stonestep!" Graypaw exclaimed, his tail waving in excitement at the memory. "He seemed to take an interest in me, too, can you believe that?"

The gray molly purred at her brother's enthusiasm. "I'm glad to hear it. What about you, Firepaw? What have you learned so far?"

"Well, Lionheart and Graypaw told me about the three Great Clans." He recalled slowly, the elder's parting words still fresh in his mind. "I hadn't realized the Clans had such a history."

Pepperpaw scoffed. "The elders love telling those tales. I doubt such giant cats have ever existed, and even if they did, why aren't they here anymore?" She paused for a moment. "Then again, I suppose if they did exist, we couldn't be here, so we should be glad they don't."

"Cinderpaw always loved those stories." Graypaw murmured thoughtfully. "She boasted she was going to become a warrior of Lionclan one day." He snorted at the thought. "Anyways, let's go see what Ravenpaw's been up to."

They found Ravenpaw on the roots of the giant oak that represented Riverclan. Beneath him sat the three Riverclan apprentices that he had spotted earlier, completely enraptured by the story he was telling them.

"Fur was flying everywhere. Blood splattered against the leaves, deep red against bright green. I'd just fought off a warrior when the ground shook, and I heard someone cry out in agony." Ravenpaw's eyes were shining brighter than Firepaw had ever seen as he spoke animatedly, his tail lashing excitedly. "Then Redtail ran past me, his fur torn and his mouth dripping blood. 'Oakheart is dead!' He howled to me, before leaping back into the fray to help Tigerclaw."

"Wow! I didn't know Ravenpaw could tell a tale like that." Graypaw whispered to the other two apprentices. "He might beat One-eye in a story-telling contest."

But Firepaw wasn't listening. "Did I hear him right?" He hissed to Pepperpaw. "If Redtail killed Oakheart…"

"Then who killed Redtail?" Pepperpaw finished for him. "I don't know. But we can ask questions once he's done."

"Finally, Redtail dragged the warrior off Tigerclaw, and with the strength of all of Lionclan, flung him into the bushes!" Ravenpaw announced triumphantly. "It was then that he spotted me crouching in the tall grass. 'Run! Bring back help!' He yowled at me, before sprinting back into battle."

The Riverclan apprentices inched forward eagerly, crowding around him with questions on the tip of their tongue.

"What were Oakheart's dying words?"

"Is it true Oakheart fought off three warriors at once?"

"Who do you think would win, Tigerclaw or Oakheart?"

Firepaw looked at Pepperpaw with his own questions. "Come to think of it, Tigerclaw said there wasn't a battle at all, and that they pinned down both him and Ravenpaw." He tilted his head in confusion. "If that was a lie, what else did Tigerclaw say that wasn't true?"

"Don't tell me you're indulging him." The duo jumped as Tigerclaw's voice rumbled from behind them. They turned to see the warrior looming over the two, his eyes ablaze with cold fury. "Ravenpaw has always had an overactive imagination. He's just pretending to have been there to impress the Riverclanners."

The ginger apprentice could feel his heart nearly beating out of his chest as he stared back at the huge tabby warrior above them. "I-I'm sorry, Tigerclaw. I didn't know."

"You do now." Tigerclaw hissed as he stormed past the two of them. "Ravenpaw! Come along now. You're almost a warrior; you ought to be socializing with them instead of these apprentices." He spat the last word as he reached the roots next to them.

At the sight of his father, the black apprentice's eyes went wide with a horror that Firepaw had never before seen in a cat. "Y-yes, father." He all but whimpered as he stood and approached his father, the fur along his tail bristling as he crawled towards him.

"Oh, no…" Firepaw couldn't help but whisper as he watched the two depart, the Riverclan apprentices looking after the two in bewilderment.

"That didn't look good." Graypaw observed as he watched them leave. "What was all that about?"

Pepperpaw's ears were back as she replied. "I think maybe Ravenpaw saw something he shouldn't have."

"Something he shouldn't ha-"

Graypaw didn't get to finish his sentence as a loud yowl sounded across the clearing. All the assembled cats turned as one to see the source; a large patrol of cats streamed down the slopes, headed by a cat as large as Tigerclaw.

"Shadowclan!" Pepperpaw hissed from beside them. "See the leader's tail, kinked like that? That's Brokenstar."

The Shadowclanners stayed in a tightly knit group as they charged through the crowd to the Great Rock, forcing the other warriors to move out of their way. The apprentices looked at each other uneasily as two of the warriors leaped atop it; Brokenstar and a large white tom with dark paws.

"Spiderfoot." Graypaw hissed to Firepaw. "There aren't any cats in the Clans like him. I heard he was giant, but he's bigger than Brokenstar, even with all that matted fur!"

Brokenstar stepped forward, almost pushing Bluestar and Crookedstar out of his way as he gazed down at the ruffled crowd below him. "Friends, I come to speak to you about the needs of Shadowclan-"

"Where is Tallstar?" One of the Riverclan elders yowled from beside Lionheart.

"We can't start yet! Windclan hasn't arrived!" Another Riverclanner spoke, though Firepaw couldn't pick out who it was in the crowd.

"As the leader of Shadowclan, it is my right to address you all here!" Brokenstar roared over the angry dissent of the crowd. Below him, the Shadowclan warriors formed a defensive circle around the base of the rock, clearly ready to go on the offensive. The crowd fell into an uneasy quiet, forming pockets as they stared down the enemy warriors.

"As you all know, the harsh leafbare and late newleaf has meant less prey runs in our hunting grounds. Many lost warriors, elders, and kits to starvation because of it." The dark leader bowed his head as if in mourning. "But Shadowclan did not. We have spent generations hardening ourselves against the cold northern winds. We are born stronger than other Clan's kits."

"What a load of mousedung." Graypaw hissed to the other two. Similar sentiments seemed to be echoing through the rest of the crowd. "Shadowclan just got lucky, plain and simple. I bet-"

Pepperpaw hushed him as the tabby tom continued. "And so we find ourselves with many mouths to feed and too little prey to feed them." He sighed loud enough that all the cats could hear him. "The needs of Shadowclan are simple. In order to survive, we must increase our hunting territory. You must allow us to share in your hunting grounds."

Shocked yowls filled the air at his words. "Share our hunting grounds? It is unprecedented!" A tortoiseshell queen from Riverclan cried.

"We would never submit to such demands." Tigerclaw hissed, his tail lashing as he glared up at the enemy leader.

"You must." Brokenstar spat back at them. "Windclan failed to understand this. In the end, we were forced to drive them out."

Cries of outrage came at his words, though the Thunderclan warriors were muted compared to the Riverclanners. It seemed Mudwish had not yet shared with them what had happened to Windclan. "How dare you disturb the natural order? Who are you to go against Starclan?" One elder called out furiously.

"I am Brokenstar, leader of Shadowclan, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure my Clan stays fed." His eyes glittered as he looked down on all of them. "We will have more hunting grounds. And we will drive out all of you to make sure that happens if we have to!"

There was silence at his words. Each cat looked to those beside them, as though their companions might have some answers that they did not. For his part, Firepaw could not turn away from the darkness that stood atop the Great Rock, threatening to engulf Clan life as they knew it.

"I do not ask for your answers now." Brokenstar's voice was smug now that he at last had the silence of the crowd. "I understand such a decision may seem difficult to make. Yet, as you leave, you must ask yourselves; would you rather share your hunting grounds, or be driven out and left homeless? Windclan refused to believe our strength." He wasn't close enough to hear, but he could only imagine the leader purring at the horror on each cat's face. "I would not make their mistake."

Hushed whispers broke out among the crowd, discussing the leader's proposal. On the rock behind Brokenstar, Crookedstar looked shaken, obviously caught off guard by Shadowclan's display of force. Beside him, Bluestar stood still, staring down the scarred tabby furiously. He was glad to see the Thunderclan leader would not be so easily swayed.

"I also bring news of a grave danger to your Clans." Brokenstar called as the din below him quieted. "Shadowclan warriors drove off a group of cats that had spurned the warrior code and killed several of our kits so they would not have to share their prey. We chased them out of our camp, but we do not know where they went afterwards. They are led by a mangy old molly with dark gray fur and a bite like Tigerclan." He looked over the assembled warriors, tail lashing at the mention of these rogues. "They are all dangerous, and must be brought to justice. Until then," The leader's matted fur bristled, "Keep a close eye on your kits. None of them are safe."

Firepaw felt fear course through his veins as the assembled Thunderclan cats began muttering to each other. It was obvious he was talking about Yellowfang and the others. And while they had been begrudgingly welcomed into the Clan before, they were now accused of murdering kits. As he spotted Tigerclaw's scruff rising, his giant claws digging into the dirt, he knew immediately that the molly that had granted him her trust wasn't safe from the warrior's wrath.

He had to tell her.

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radiantmorningstar · 5 days ago

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Tomb: the Chronicle of Sirius and Prin 2

Year 297 AC of the Deer, Highday 15-16h of the Month of Close

They trek across the stormswept plain until, a day-and-a-half later, soaked and terrorized by lightning and thunder, they arrive at what used to be the village of Veldmark. Every building looks smashed and burned. The villagers—about 50 men, women, and children—are impaled on long spikes fashioned from the wood of the shattered buildings. They hang motionless in the rain in two symmetrical rows down what used to be the central road.

A large wooden wall, perhaps once belonging to the meeting house, has been left standing. On it a message has been cut in the Common tongue: ~ TO OBTAIN SATISFACTION THE DREAD WARLORD SIGUR DRAKENSBANE RAZED THIS VILLAGE FOR LACK OF TRIBUTE LET ALL BEAR WITNESS AND IN WITNESSING MOURN THE FOLLY OF VELDMARK ~ .

Prin runs his palm over the roughly hacked letters. “Sigur, eh?” he murmurs. “That doesn’t sound like a Redianteran name.”

“No,” says Sirius. “Not remotely.”

They regard the dead villagers with a certain detachment, as their training in the Adventurers’ Guild has prepared them for such things. However, it is a ghastly sight.

[Prin makes an unmodified Lore check and fails. Sirius makes one and succeeds, connecting the style of the message, the name, and the unnatural intensity of the storm.]

“I know what this is.” Sirius steps back and takes in the destroyed buildings and the impaled villagers. “These are storm giants.” It’s a storm giant war party, probably marauding from some redoubt in the Dragonback Mountains to the east.

Soaked, the two apprentices nevertheless stand there for a while, contemplating the enormous implications of this realization.

[Trey Oracle: Do they decide to return to the guild at Redianteris to report what they have discovered? - Yes.]

The sun is past its zenith and they know they won’t get much farther today. But they both agree that the only responsible thing is to return to the guild with this information.

Unfortunately, they are additionally aware that they can’t camp in the open—not only because of the horrible weather, but also because the night has three watches and there are only two of them. This is why the Guild will usually send out three adventurers at minimum. Why the Masters chose only two this time remains an unanswered question.

Since they left Redianteris, Prin and Sirius have had to find shelter every night and risk sleeping unguarded. Up to now, it didn’t seem like much of an issue, travelling on the relatively safe Northern Plains Road. But now the situation feels menacing.

The only structure that seems wholly intact is a wooden chapel to the goddess, Galana, patron of plants and fertility. A koh-wood statue of her with arms outstretched faces the central square of what used to be Veldmark.

Sirius and Prin shuffle warily past the statue and enter through the thick wooden door. It is unlocked. Unfortunately, when Prin lights a torch, they see nothing but an empty wooden floor, a dais, and a podium. There are no seats, artifacts, holy symbols, or even statues. Prin puts his lit torch in an iron loop on the wall

They don’t have anything with which they could bar the door. So Sirius sits with his back against it and closes his eyes. Prin lays out his bedroll [torch -1 / ration check: no change] and tries to get some sleep.

[Trey Oracle: Does something happen in the middle of the night, since they are sleeping without keeping watch? - Yes / danger is low / keywords: overcome challenge / a dog is encountered]

In the middle of the night, they both have the same strange dream. They dream that they are in the chapel. A small black dog is sitting before them, staring at them with an unsettling, highly intelligent look on its face. It speaks with the serene voice of a woman: “Beware this town, for all is not what it seems. Once you leave this chapel, I cannot protect you.”

Sirius and Prin both wake with a start.

To be continued.

#solo rpg #ttrpg #ttrpg community #Tomb rpg #Perplexing Ruins #Goddess Galana #Advanced Fighting Fantasy

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retrocausalities · 1 year ago

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pas de chat.

closed starter ft. @herbrokenmelodies. mentions of @mincedoaths ( dead ringer ).

setting: the ritz-carlton hotel, nyc.

timeframe: december 1st, 2023 / ~8:15 pm

summary: reyhan and himiko lounge and do what they love to do, judge outfits.

content warnings: none.

It is well into the gala, and Reyhan’s missed the opening, not that it matters, since they are a pupil of Virgil’s, and one grand lesson from the holy Maestro is never let someone else make your entrance. After the media horde swarms the B-listers who think that somehow being bit players in Cerberus Corp’s “real-action” TV gives them an excuse for talent, Puppeteer commandeers the stage with exquisite couture. Face-painted to account for the simple caged mask they wear that highlights the once-inured scar that adorns their visage, they preen in their cape, composed entirely of black, swan-like vegan feathers.

The Met Gala this is not; it’s a black-tie formal wear as requested by… who were they, again? Some tech start-up from Norway? Reyhan doesn’t do business; they leave that to their stuffy financial advisor at 1585 Broadway. Regardless, the dancer is less enthused that the invite isn’t personalized. However, they love a good reason to dress up and monitor their beloved out of costume. The gossip sites they’ve triple-checked seem to imply that all members of the Corp will be there, and who better to represent the Company than their brightest star? Oh, it’ll be a quintessential stage for Act Two in the triple-bill performance of Whirlpool and Puppeteer—

—Was what Reyhan had presumed the night would be.

Instead, the lovely Cassian must’ve been spirited away by a plebian in need since Reyhan cannot locate him anywhere, and it’s almost an hour into the event since their arrival. If it weren’t for a Commonwealth balanced in the poised net of their fingers, Reyhan would’ve checked out and gone to SoHo for a lustrous start to their December. The gala is an atonal affair, open ballrooms and liquor enough to put Prohibition back on the map, backdropped by some science displays that Reyhan cannot make heads or tails out of — a waste for the Ritz-Carlton since it’s dawning on Reyhan that these people, Enderson, was it? have invited just about anyone off the street!

“Songstress,” Reyhan sighs loudly to their conspiring conversationalist, pointing at some banal attempt at black tie, “I found another. When will people learn it’s perfectly fine for spezzato at parties? Now they’re no different from the waitstaff, who the event organizers also decided should dress in black and white.”

Songstress isn’t a staple of Puppeteer’s in-costume crew, but her alter ego, Himiko Yamada, is superbly useful in Reyhan Maximiliano Cisneros’ ascent to nouveau Club Kid status. They must thank their remarkable talents: a single touch and the body spills all truths. Himiko’s identity was as good as a read book once her limbs spoke to them. In comparison, Reyhan’s confident Himiko hasn’t put two and two together about their identity, and they aren’t hurrying to intercommunicate. Just like their laundry, Reyhan prefers to do it separately.

“How many do we have on our list for Class B for ‘boring,’ again?” Reyhan asks and swirls their glass before taking a sip. Their eyes jeté among the crowd coming in and how droll, another flood of inky, monotonous black — then they almost choke on their drink.

“What?!” Reyhan exclaims, springing from their lounge chair, veins tandemly leaping in their neck. Across the room is a certifiable silver fox [@mincedoaths; dead ringer] in a backless slit dress and an immaculate je ne sais quoi attitude. Reyhan has never wished more than to be… (gasp)… another person. They drop their glass to the floor, ignoring the shattering of the crystal goblet as the one in their ego breaks in Ligeti’s Etude No. 13.

“S-songstress. Are you seeing. What I am. Seeing.” The words manage to break out of the bars of their teeth.

#— reyhan.#— reyhan. ( threads )#— reyhan. ( himiko )#— threads.#— event.#— event. ( 001 )#( you do not have to match the length fsdfsf )

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free-pool-trash · 3 years ago

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x of swords - george weasley

part one of three

Summary: Growing up as Harry’s neighbor, you always believed that you were completely regular. In an attempt to feel closer to Harry (your best friend) you begin to dabble in the art of divination and, in the process, you uncover magic that you didn’t know you had. (i hate doing summaries this does not sum it up but you get the jist)

Relationships: George Weasley x Reader, platonic!Harry Potter x Reader, platonic!OC x Reader, platonic!Sirius Black x Reader, platonic!Remus Lupin x Reader, platonic!Fred Weasley x Reader, platonic!Nymphadora Tonks x Reader, platonic!Molly Weasley x Reader, platonic!Hermoine Granger x Reader, Sirius Black x Remus Lupin

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, fluff, angst, mentions of torture, mentions of death (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count: 22.9k

so here it is 😏 i was going to wait until i was completely finished with this to post it but i didn’t wanna rush it and oh my god it’s already so long 😫 I’m moving to Edinburgh in 2 weeks so i won’t be able to write as i have so much to pack so i hope this keeps some of you happy for a while <3 obviously i put a lot of effort into this and spent a lot of time on it so i really hope yall like it and i will personally kiss everyone who comments. likes or reblogs <3

mastelist

Life on Privet Drive was definitely something- something being incredibly boring. Nothing even remotely exciting happened on the street and the company was, to put it simply, miserable.

You’d lived in 5 Privet Drive since birth which, unfortunately for you, meant that your family are extremely close with the Dursleys who live next door. The Dursleys are a family of bigoted, pig-headed bullies. Made up of Petunia, Vernon, Dudley and, in your opinion the only tolerable one, Harry.

From the age of five, Harry had been your only friend on the street and vice versa. Initially, the both of you had bonded over your dislike of Dudley but as the years rolled on Harry and yourself had become virtually inseparable.

It was certainly strange- how close your parents were with Petunia and Vernon. Your mother and father are actually quite lovely, they are the complete opposite of the Dursleys, they’re open minded, kind and extremely friendly. But, you supposed, their friendliness didn’t discriminate from person to person, even if said person forced their orphaned nephew to sleep in the cupboard underneath the stairs.

There was no denying that Harry had been miserable with the Dursleys, who were unfortunately his only remaining family and you supposed you should’ve been happy when your best friend finally got away from them after his 11th birthday.

You’d missed him for the entire school year and you only got a chance to ask where he’d actually gone off to when he’d arrived home for the summer. (You didn’t believe the story Vernon had spun about Harry attending a boarding school for juvenile trouble makers).

“It’s incredible, (Y/n), honestly! I wish you could be there too.” He’d told you when you finally saw him again, after he’d finished his first year in his mysterious boarding school.

“That’s great, Haz, but where exactly is it?” You wondered and Harry only gave you his signature grin.

“Scotland.”

With a heavy sigh you let the subject go, he was clearly happy wherever he was going to school so it didn’t matter where or what it was. As long as he was happy.

By the time his 12th birthday rolled around you’d found the perfect gift for him. You’d made your parents buy you a polaroid camera for him to take away to school, he’d told you so many amazing stories about his school, you wanted to see some of it for yourself so you figured a camera would be the best course of action.

The morning of his birthday, Harry was woken up by the sound of pebbles tapping against his barred up window. The boy looked out to see you waving at him, an excited smile on your face and a neatly wrapped present in your other hand. Harry couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face as you beckoned him down with your hand. It was barely dawn but you knew better than to give a present for Harry to either his aunt or uncle because they’d only give it to Dudley, so it was best to get it to him before the rest of his supposed family woke up.

Hogwarts was amazing and Harry was over the moon to have discovered he was a wizard and make so many new friends, but he had missed you- his only friend in the muggle world. Your birthday was only a few weeks after his and he hoped that maybe you’d get a hogwarts letter of your own, obviously that hadn’t happened. Nonetheless he was happy to see you in the summer, he couldn’t shake the thought that Ron and Hermione would have loved to meet you though.

Slowly and quietly, Harry snook down the stairs and out the front door to meet you.

“Happy birthday, Haz!” You whisper-shouted excitedly, pulling the green-eyed boy into your house so he wouldn’t get caught outside when he wasn’t even allowed out of his bedroom.

Harry rolled his eyes at the nickname, “I hope you know that you’re still the only person who calls me that.”

“Good,” you said happily, closing the front door behind you. “Anyway, I got you something that you can bring away to school with you!” He rose an eyebrow at you as you pushed the carefully wrapped box into his hands, “Open it,” you instructed. And so he did.

It was very possibly the most expensive gift he’d ever gotten, you (or your parents) usually got Harry presents that couldn’t be stolen by Dudley. For example, your mother had taken to buying Harry his own clothes, seeing as your best friend was a lot taller and thinner than his horrid cousin.

You, on the other hand, would usually make him gifts with sentimental value, something Dudley had absolutely zero interest in. The camera though, you knew would be safe as Harry would be leaving for school again soon enough.

Harry stared dumbfounded at the cardboard box that held the rather large polaroid camera, judging by the image on the box it was a good quality thing, probably expensive. “This is… really nice, (Y/n).”

A bright smile found your lips as you rushed into an animated explanation about why you’d picked a camera as his birthday present this year.

“So you can take lots of pictures of you and your new friends in your new fancy private school and when you come back here you can show them to me!” Harry chuckled and nodded his head, hoping he’d be able to find time to take pictures like you wanted.

“I’ll take pictures of everything. Promise.” He told you, holding out his pinky with a cheeky grin. You linked your pinky with his and nodded gratefully.

“We should christen it,” Harry announced, tearing into the box and he quickly set the camera up before he pointed it at you expectantly. “Well, come on then. I’ve told my school friends all about you, they’re going to want to see what you look like too. So, smile-“ with a disbelieving laugh, you crossed your legs underneath yourself from where you were sitting on the floor across from Harry, and tucked your hair behind your ears before you looked directly at the lense of the camera and gave it the brightest smile you could muster. The camera flashed and the picture slowly revealed itself, it seemed to be good enough to satisfy Harry’s twelve year old self.

He’d shown the polaroid to Hermione first, the bushy haired girl had smiled softly as she held the polaroid gently, “She seems lovely, Harry.”

Harry had nodded his head in agreement, you were lovely. He just hoped Dudley wasn’t terrorising you too much while he was away. His cousin always had somewhat of a crush on you, which Harry knew was ridiculous considering you all but loathed Dudley.

True to his word, Harry had taken plenty of pictures, many were of (non-magic) areas of the Hogwarts campus, many were of his friends; Ron, Hermione, Fred and George Weasley (who had an absolute field day with the muggle contraption), one or two of Hagrid and he even managed to capture a nice one of the owlery. Although you were one of his best friends, sometimes thinking about you while he was in Hogwarts brought his mood down. It reminded him of how much he wished you could’ve shared in his adventures and not to mention how much he missed you, you could hardly send him an owl, what with being a muggle and all, so he only got to spend time with you during the summer months.

Things had changed during his third year, though. When he received a rather shocking, albeit very welcome, letter.

Dear Harry,

I’d like to start by saying: hi, how are you? How’s school? Good? Great. Now that that’s out of the way… when you come home I’m going to KILL you!!! I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you are a wizard! Well, I understand why you didn’t but anyway.

You’re probably wondering how I found all of this out. Long story short, I saw Vernon’s sister floating around your sitting room and then I saw you running out swinging a wand around. I put two and two together. You would not believe how long it took me to figure out how to get in contact with you. I practically had to beg Dudley to tell me how to get this package to you, he eventually told me how in exchange for a kiss on the cheek. It was as horrifying as it sounds, the things I do for you, Haz, honestly. Don’t worry though, you can make it up to me over the summer.

I bought an owl by the way. I’m guessing she found you okay? Look after her for a little while before sending her back will you? She’s just a baby so she can’t do too much long distance travel just yet.The lady I got her from is a witch, she was very kind and knew exactly what I was looking to use an owl for. Her name is Astra (the owl’s not the lady’s)! Isn’t she lovely?

Moving on from that, I felt bad forcing you to send me pictures and getting nothing in return so I have decided to very kindly grace you with my exhilaratingly normal life. You will also find I sent you some of those sweets you like.

Tell Ron and Hermione that I said hi! Oh and Fred and George too! Get into lots of trouble for me ;) I suppose I better stop rambling now, sorry about that I’m just excited (and i might be missing you… just a tiny bit!)

Write back to me soon, if you can! Tell Astra I’m proud of her for making her first delivery! (give her plenty of treats for me yeah?)

I’ll let you get back to your wizardy stuff now, Haz.

Lots of love,

(Y/n) xoxo

P.s. your magical secret is safe with me. promise.

Harry looked up from your letter with a dazed smile, your new little owl was looking at him expectantly, no doubt awaiting her treat, “Good job, Astra. Your owner says she’s very proud of you,” he informed her, handing her a piece of bacon from his breakfast plate and laughed when she hooted happily.

Astra is a gorgeous little tawny, she has brown and white feathers that were fluffy to the touch. Harry could already tell she was well suited to you though, she was friendly as anything with the most curious eyes he’d ever seen.

“Whose it from?” Ron grunted from beside him, munching happily on his huge breakfast.

Harry let out a short laugh, digging into the envelope to pull out the photos and sweets you’d sent, “(Y/n).”

“I thought she didn’t know about you?” Hermione asked from beside Ron, Harry only shrugged.

“She figured it out. She’s quite clever, I think you’d like her Hermione. She says hi by the way.” He answered somewhat distantly, distracted by the pictures you’d sent, all of which had writing on the backs. He paused on one photo, he guessed one of your parents had taken it, you were stood in the woods, surrounded by trees with a huge smile on your face, your eyes were closed and your nose was scrunched up as a very tiny Astra seemed to be nibbling at your ear affectionately.

“I’m sure we’d get along, I admire her determination, really. And she even bought an owl?” The girl questioned, reaching over and petting Astra gently.

Harry’s smile was gentle as Astra hopped onto his shoulder, “Yeah, suppose she did.”

“Alright! I’m gonna say it!” George Weasley exclaimed, plucking the photo of you from Harry’s grasp, he held it between himself and Fred, the older twin had somehow swiped the letter you’d written. “Harry’s girlfriend back home is quite cute, don’t you think, Freddie?” Fred nodded resolutely, pushing the letter into George’s face as he pointed towards a specific line.

“I have to agree and look, Georgie, she told Harry to tell us that she says hi! Ugh, such a darling,” Fred fake swooned and Harry felt his face heat up while George made kissy faces.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Yeah, you had opened Harry up to a whole new world of teasing yet somehow he didn’t mind.

“Oi, do you think she’d like some of our Weasley products?” George asked genuinely, wiggling his eyebrows. Harry shuddered at the thought of you getting a hold of anything that Fred and George had created, because yes, you would like some magical pranking products. You had quite a talent for mischief, only in Harry’s worst nightmares would the Weasley twins ever get their hands on you.

Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Dunno.”

“She single?” Fred asked jokingly and Harry scrunched his face up. He supposed you were single, though, he’d never really pictured you with anyone. He felt quite protective over you, but he supposed he'd like to see you happy with someone he approved of- or alternatively; anyone but Dudley.

“Think so,” Harry told him with another shrug before a cheeky grin spread across his lips, as he focused his attention on the twins who were nudging each other in mock victory, “Why? Should I write home and tell her the esteemed Weasley twins have a crush on her?”

George was the first the speak, he nodded, completely serious and Harry found himself worrying that perhaps one of the Weasley twins would get his hands on you.

“Yes. Absolutely,” Fred snorted and said no more, allowing his younger twin to continue the girl based antics seeing as Fred’s actual crush, Angelina, had started to glare. “In fact, give her my name. Tell her to write to me next time, eh?”

Harry’s eyes widened, oh Merlin, George was serious.

“Oh sod off, would you? The poor girl is a muggle, she’d throw herself off the astronomy tower if she got stuck with either of you prats.” Ron said through a laugh, none of them could deny it was quite funny, even Hermione had to bite back a smile at the chaos your simple letter had caused.

Around two weeks had passed until Astra returned to you, two letters attached to her leg this time.

You greeted her with a warm smile as she landed on the inside of you window, “Welcome home, pretty lady! Did you have a nice trip?” You cooed, patting her feathers and giggling when she nuzzled her head against your fingers. Having a magical owl as a pet was weird, but still, you seemed to be managing her okay.

Astra hooted happily, as if informing you that she did, in fact, have a nice trip. “That’s good! Let me take these letters off and you can have a well deserved rest, I’ve made a nice nest up for you,” you rambled softly as you untied the string that was holding the letters to her leg.

Astra hooted, hopping onto your arm and allowing you to place her on the plush pile of pillows and blankets which she immediately made herself comfortable upon, once again hooting in content when you placed a handful of treats in front of her.

You assumed that both letters were from Harry until you noticed the messy handwriting that covered one of the envelopes, handwriting that definitely didn’t belong to Harry. Besides, never, even in the furthest reaches of your imagination, would your best friend ever refer to you as; “Harry’s Pretty Neighbour”. You set that one to the side for the time being and focused on the letter you knew to actually be from Harry.

Dear (Y/n),

Hi. Sorry I didn’t tell you I was a wizard. If it makes you feel better I was actually planning on telling you this summer, but thank you for saving me from that conversation. I miss you too (only a tad). I hope you’re having a good school year so far, it’s been pretty chaotic here but I promise I’ll tell you every single tiny detail when we see each other at the end of May!

Did Astra get home okay? She’s a really lovely owl, she took quite a liking to George who (terrifyingly) has taken quite a liking to you. He’s been badgering me all week for “permission” to write to you, in his words, “just to say hello.” I think you’d actually get along but he and the rest of his family are very magic oriented, I’d be surprised if he didn’t scare you away… the pair of you together would be my worst nightmare. Don’t even get me started on how I’d feel if Fred was in the mix too. I’m tired just thinking about it.

Thank you for the sweets they were lovely, I put a chocolate frog in the envelope for you, it’s a really popular sweet in the wizarding world- don’t freak out when it hops, it’s just a charm the frog isn’t really alive.

I enjoyed the pictures too, I put a few in this letter for you too, the polaroid is running out of film but it should be enough to keep me going until the end of term.

Write to me again soon, I like hearing from you.

Take care,

Harry.

P.S. I’m really sorry you had to kiss Dudley, I’ll do something to make it up to you. Promise.

P.P.S. If George OR Fred manage to write to you PLEASE don’t eat anything they give you.

With a laugh you set the letter down beside you. Curiously, you reached a hand into the ivory envelope and pulled out the peculiarly shaped chocolate box as well as the polaroids. You viewed the photos with a fond smile, Harry always looked so happy, even with whatever chaos was happening around him. Wizard school definitely made your best friend the happiest he’d ever been.

Opening the next letter, which you now guessed judging by Harry’s letter, came from George Weasley, Harry’s friend Ron’s older brother. That was all you knew about him. You let out a gasp once you opened the seal, a small show of tiny fireworks shot out, exploding in balls of reds and oranges across your bedroom before they disappeared as if they’d never been there in the first place.

Slightly frazzled, yet amazed, you cautiously plucked the letter from the envelope and began reading.

Hello, Harry’s Pretty Neighbour.

I hope you enjoyed the show, hopefully it didn’t startle you too much… I’m not exactly sure what muggles are used to… if it did scare you I’m sorry.

Anyway, just wanted to say hi. Promised Harry I wouldn’t spook you, he’s quite protective of you, you know. It’s very sweet.

I don’t blame him, though. If I had a friend as pretty as you I’d be protective too ;)

Don’t break my heart, write back?

Yours truly,

George Weasley x

And that had been the start of it. Two years had passed since you’d discovered the wizarding world and it seemed as though things had simultaneously gotten worse and better. As it turns out, your lifelong best friend was some sort of prophetic hero in the wizard community and on top of that it seemed that there was a war brewing that he would be expected to lead.

Of course, you were completely useless as you don’t possess the ability to perform magic which also means you're at risk of being hate crimed by some classist, wizard, blood supremacists? You weren’t sure. But Harry was worried.

You’d been writing back and forth to a few of Harry’s Hogwarts friends (your friends now too) for a long while now, you’d even gotten a chance to finally meet them when you’d gone with the Dursleys to collect Harry from King’s Cross Station.

You got along best with Hermione seeing as she was raised similarly to yourself and Harry. However, of all of Harry’s school mates, you liked George the most. Everyone could have predicted it really, you’d been writing to each other constantly and the second you’d clapped eyes on each other in the flesh he’d broken out in a run to crush you in a hug. Harry had groaned at the sight of the pair of you, smiling widely at each other, seeming to slot together perfectly. He had to laugh about it now though, if things went well with Ginny he supposed you’d probably end up being his sister-in-law, assuming his predictions of George falling completely in love with you were correct (they were, he knew).

All air of laughter or wizard/muggle romances was gone at the moment however. You and Harry sat alongside each other, your hand holding his loosely between the swings you were sat on, he’d be going into his 5th year at Hogwarts soon, he’d yet to recover from the last. He’d made a friend only for that friend to be killed right in front of him. He’d almost been murdered himself for God’s sake.

“If you don’t feel safe, Haz… maybe, I don’t know? Don’t go back?” You suggested weakly, knowing he’d never do such a thing. As you expected, Harry shook his head and looked at you solemnly.

“Can’t. Not now that he’s back.” With a sigh you squeezed his hand.

“They should be paying you for this, you know,” Harry chuckled then, squeezing your hand in return.

“I’m doing this for you too. To keep you safe.” He admitted and you sighed miserably.

“I wish I could be of more help.” Harry scoffed, his green eyes shining with pure disbelief as he stared at you.

“More help? (Y/n) you must be joking…” he trailed off as you shook your head, you weren’t joking, you hated that you couldn’t help Harry through this, for once you knew there was nothing you could do to improve the situation in any way that would make an impact, “Oi. Look at me,” Harry demanded, no trace of the usual awkward sarcasm to be heard when he spoke.

You let your eyes meet his again and watched how they seemed to soften when he took in how utterly defenceless you looked, “If it hadn’t been for you, the first ten years of my life would’ve been an even worse hell than they already were. You were the only good thing and you’re still the only good thing about being back in this place.”

He watched sadly as your eyes fell to the floor again, “Besides, the sooner we get this mess with Voldemort sorted out, the sooner you and George Weasley can navigate the whole muggle/wizard romance thing.”

At his statement you barked out a laugh and Harry let himself smile too, “Shut up, Potter. S’not like that.”

Harry laughed then too, “Oh it is so like that, (N/n).”

“It so isn’t.” You grumbled, but your little smile confirmed to Harry that it absolutely was like that.

“Okay. Fine, please then do tell, what is going on between you and the infamous George Weasley?” Harry challenged, revelling in the way your cheeks burned with embarrassment. He let out a low chuckle when you shrugged shyly and kicked the stones beneath your feet.

“I don’t know… We write to each other a lot, and I think he’s really interesting and funny and sweet and of course I think he’s fit. But, I don’t know,” you bit your lip as Harry listened to you, he found it quite endearing. “I just don’t see how it would work. I like him, yeah, but…” Harry scoffed again as you trailed off. He hated seeing you feeling so insecure, Harry was clueless about a lot of things, but he knew exactly how much his best friend was worth- more than all the gold in Gringott’s.

“Ok as your best mate, and as someone who is very close with the Weasley family, I’m telling you that he’s mad about you. All he ever does is ask me about you, Fred is completely sick of him. He’s even told Molly about you, which is truly a commitment believe me,” Harry started, growing more content with the more bashful you became, “And didn’t he write to you just before the Yule Ball to tell you that he was going with Katie Bell as a friend but he wanted to tell you just incase you heard it from someone else and he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea?” Finally, you were back to fighting a smile.

“Yeah he did.”

“Well there you go. But seriously he hasn’t dated or even so much as looked at anyone else since he met you. Which I’ll be honest is super annoying for me but you deserve someone who thinks you hung the stars in the sky.”

A mock gasp left your lips and you released his hand to place it over your chest in faux hurt, “You mean to tell me you don’t think I hung the stars in the sky? I’m hurt, Harry. I think I’ll have to rat you out to Mrs. Weasley.”

Harry laughed but the lighthearted atmosphere didn’t last long before Dudley had shown up with his little gang of bullies, all of whom made fun of Harry’s nightmares.

It was then things had taken a turn for the worst, the sky turned black and storm clouds completely blocked out the previously scorching sun. You looked to Harry for answers but he seemed to be seeing something that you couldn’t, all you knew was that it had become unbearably cold, a feeling of misery making a home in your bones as Harry rushed to pull you to your feet.

“Run! Come on!” He shouted, clutching your hand tightly in his and sprinting through the neighbourhood until you, Harry and Dudley found yourselves struggling to catch a breath in a graffiti covered tunnel.

A terrified yelp left your throat as what you’d been running from revealed itself to you.

Several floating, cloaked shadowy figures swooped into the tunnel on both sides, their hands decaying and boney, their presence leaving you with the feeling that you’d never know positively ever again.

Harry had effectively used his body to cage you against the wall of the tunnel, his back pressed firmly against your chest, your own back pressed to the cold concrete wall, his wand was at the ready as the creatures approached rapidly.

“Don’t look at them.” Harry instructed, protecting you first as you watched in horror as one of the creatures seemed to be ripping Dudley’s essence straight out of his body.

It only took Harry a few painfully long seconds to take care of the creature in front of the pair of you, you’d wished you’d taken his advice and buried your head in his shoulder so you wouldn’t see the monstrous creatures before you, yet, you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from Dudley.

The rest happened in a blur, Harry had yet to let go of your hand as it (and your entire body) shook violently. Demontors broke even the strongest of wizards, Harry knew that as a muggle who’d never seen a magical creature, other than an owl, you’d react negatively.

“If it makes you feel any better, I used to faint every time I saw a dementor.” You nodded numbly, giving Dudley a side glance of concern while he mumbled incoherently to himself.

“Is he alright?” You questioned meekly, voice shaking. You were still freezing and the all too familiar feeling of uselessness didn’t do anything to help you regain your inner warmth.

Harry nodded, “He will be.”

“The ministry will be after my head for using magic outside of school,” he told you after a few minutes, squeezing your hand lightly for the umpteenth time, “So I’m gonna have to go away for a while. Probably tonight. Eat some chocolate, it should stop the shaking.” He told you, you hadn’t even noticed you’d reached Privet Drive.

“And they won’t-“ your breath got caught in your throat and your eyes filled with fear, “The dementors. They won’t come back, will they?”

Harry shook his head, “No. But come on, we should get you inside before the ministry shows up and tries to obliviate you.” His final words came out as more of a mumble than an actual sentence as he passed a bumbling Dudley over to Petunia and Vernon before steering you down your own driveway.

“You better not have broken her too, boy!” You vaguely registered Vernon’s voice shouting in your and Harry’s direction.

Your parents were away on holiday at the moment, in Spain. They’d wanted you to come but you hadn’t wanted to miss Harry’s visit, so when you shakily managed to open the door the house was completely dark, you weren’t sure at what point night had fallen.

Harry closed the door behind himself and made his way into your kitchen, the boy rifled through your sweet press before his hand finally settled on what he was looking for. A triumphant sort of yell left his lips as he pulled a bar of chocolate out of the cupboard.

While Harry tossed the bar onto the counter and busied himself with boiling the kettle, you stood in the hallway still, completely rigid.

“Come on, (Y/n). Sit down.” He urged gently, not turning around. Wordlessly, you fully entered the kitchen and slid into a chair facing Harry.

“Don’t you have better things to be doing than making me tea?” You wondered, setting your hands on the table and fidgeting with your icy fingers. Obviously, you appreciated Harry’s fussing but with the way he was talking about the ministry earlier you were sure he had more important things to worry about.

Harry only faced you once he was finished making your tea. He carried the hot cup and the previously discarded bar of chocolate over to you, he placed them both on the table before giving you a hard look, “I’m looking after you first. I’ll deal with everything else later.”

“I used to be the one who took care of you.” You said through a sigh, taking a sip of the hot tea and slumping against your seat as you began to heat up on the inside again.

Harry let out a low chuckle, “Oh how the tables have turned.”

“I liked it better the other way.” You complained, munching on a square of chocolate.

“Trust me, so did I,” Harry groaned, standing up and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Don’t worry though, (N/n). Have a sneaking feeling that you’ll be looking after me again soon enough.”

You patted the hand he had clamped on your shoulder in appreciation, “Thank you, though, for looking after me.”

“Course. I better go. I don’t want you getting roped into anything else tonight,” he said with a sad smile and you nodded in understanding, “We probably won’t see each other for a while but I’ll write. Is Astra back from Cecilia's yet?” Celillia is the witch you’d gotten Astra from in the first place, the pair of you had kept in touch and she’d recently offered to try and teach you some basic divination skills, she claimed that, “Being a wizard isn’t exactly a requirement” and you desperately needed something, anything, to make you feel more connected to your friends in the wizarding world. You supposed you’d need to plan a trip to her cottage soon, after tonight you definitely needed some of her wisdom.

“No, not yet. She flew straight there from the burrow so I suppose she’s probably resting,” you informed him distantly, still clutching his hand, “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

Harry squeezed your shoulder and let out a deep breath, “I’ll try my best. Promise,” with that he lifted his hand from your shoulder and extended his pinky to you, you gladly linked it with your own. Harry noted, very gratefully, that the warmth had now returned to your hands and you’d stopped shaking so violently.

“Send me a letter once Astra gets back, alright? I’ll keep you updated on what’s going on over on my side.” You agreed before walking Harry to the door, hugging him tightly and watching as he approached the Dursley’s front door.

As predicted, Harry, George, Hermione and Cecillia had let you know that the wizarding world was crumbling fast. Admittedly you were worried about your wizard friends, but Cecillia had done a great job of keeping you distracted by keeping you buried under heaps of divination books, tarot cards and crystal guidebooks. As it turns out, though, you had quite the talent for making accurate detailed predictions.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were descended from a powerful seer,” she’d written to you in awe after you’d managed to predict exactly how a date of hers would go without missing a single detail.

Reading tarot cards quickly became one of your favourite hobbies to indulge in when you weren’t in school. You’d made the mistake of telling George about it in a recent letter, Harry already knew and he also knew that there was no point telling you that he didn’t have a heap of faith in divination. George however was having a field day with the new information.

The older boy teased you at every chance he got, but it was all in good fun as in every letter he sent, you’d find a page that he’d ripped out of his own divination book, the pages would be crinkled and have messy notes scribbled along the margins, with explanations over words that he knew you wouldn’t understand as a muggle. They were actually really helpful. Aside from all the teasing he found it quite endearing that you were trying to get familiar with some form of magic. Even if it was a form of magic wizards tended to ridicule.

He’d been quite worried about you, Harry told him about the dementors and how you’d been quite shaken up after your encounter with them. He’d written to you on a weekly basis, constantly checking in on you, making absolutely sure that no more dementors paid you a visit. He and Harry both kept you up to date with the constant and seemingly never ending rules being imposed upon them by their new headmaster, or headmistress; Delores Umbridge. George also disclosed to you all about his and Fred’s plan to leave Hogwarts and pursue their lifelong dream of opening a joke shop. You had nothing but faith in the twins, really. Your complete faith in them hadn’t stopped you from sending George a handful of crystals that you believed would help his and his shop’s success. He’d teased you relentlessly in each letter since he’d received your package containing citrine, tiger’s eye, amazonite, aventurine and smokey quartz. What he hadn’t mentioned since receiving your little gifts, is that he’d been carrying the five crystals around in their little orange mesh drawstring bag in his pocket everywhere he went. He had to give credit where credit is due and, to be fair to you and your holistic ways, he hadn’t run into any serious obstacles since he started carrying the gems around.

November through June had brought forth a plethora of unfortunate events. You were practically swimming in school work which left you with no time to write to Harry, or even practice tarot. As well as that, you’d been having nightmares, although Cecillia had warned that these dreams could hold some sort of prophesies within them, you highly doubted that though, you weren’t a wizard, only a muggle. Whether prophetic or not, the nightmares plagued you, keeping you up at night or waking you at all hours of the morning.

On one particular morning, you’d awoken with a gasp. Sweat coated your face, soaked your pillow cases and caused your legs to stick to your blankets in a way not even the June heat could've caused. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, tears welled in your eyes, and your body shook as violently as it had the night you’d come face to face with the dementors of Azkaban. The unadulterated fear coursing through your bloodstream suggested that perhaps this bad dream had been something more than simply that.

As fast as you could manage in your panicked state, you dragged your body out of bed and stumbled towards your light switch, flicking it on before haphazardly ripping a sheet out of the refill pad on your desk, grabbing a pen and beginning to scribble down the dream that you could only describe as a warning.

Your laboured breaths stirred Astra from her slumber, the tawny hooted tiredly, hopping out of her cage and fluttering over to your shoulder, settling there as you wrote.

Harry,

I hope this letter reaches you in time. I might sound completely mad but something terrible may be about to happen. I’ve been having these horrific dreams over the last few months, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry but Cecillia suspects they’re premonitions and I’m terrified she may be right. I’ve just woken up, it’s around 2am and if I’m lucky, Astra should get this letter to you before 6am…

Onto the dream, you were there and you were asleep, I was standing by your bed, it was a four-poster sort of thing, the room was decorated in mostly red and gold. You woke up panicked, you looked completely overwhelmed and you began shouting about your Godfather Sirius, about how he was in trouble… From then on I watched the day play out. You, Hermoine, Ron, Ginny, a boy with brown hair I’ve never met, I think you called him Neville in my dream, and a blonde girl- Luna I think you called her, you all went to the ministry to rescue Sirius and find some kind of prophecy. Harry you have to listen to me, you mustn’t go, it’s a trick, Voldemort planted it in your head and if you go you’ll only put Sirius in harm’s way. But, knowing you, you’re gonna go anyway… so here’s my advice: keep your eyes open for the witch Bellatrix. Keep Sirius away from the veil and please please please, be careful.

I’m heading to Cecillia’s cottage for the day and maybe even the next couple of days, send Astra there when you find time to write back.

I hope I’m wrong but if I’m not; good luck, Harry. I love you and if you don’t look after yourself the dark lord will be the least of your worries.

Lots of love,

Y/n.

Folding up the letter and placing it in a stray envelope, you addressed it and gently tied it to your loyal owl’s leg. “I’m gonna need you to go as fast as you can to get this to Harry, okay Astra?” She hooted with what you guessed to be determination before she set off, out into the night. Thankfully for you, now that your owl was occupied, you knew Cecillia owned a telephone so you’d have no problems contacting her. While writing to Harry, you’d left out a few details about the dream. You conveniently forget to mention that you’d watched his only remaining family member killed at the hand’s of Bellatrix, it had looked so terrifyingly real that your mind couldn’t have possibly conjured it up all by itself. You also failed to mention hearing Harry’s agonising scream as Sirius fell, the noise was nearly deafening. Seeing Sirius, a man you’d only seen in pictures, die and watching your best friend mourn for him was, well, traumatising. There was no way you’d get a wink of sleep for the remainder of the night, so, you quietly tiptoed downstairs and made a call.

The line rang three times before Cecillia’s voice sounded, chirpy as ever despite the late hour, “Hello?”

“Sorry to call so late,” was all you managed, your voice although shaky was immediately identified by the much older witch.

You could nearly see the soft smile on her youthful face as she spoke, “Ah, Y/n my darling, no worries at all! How is my favourite student doing at half two in the morning?”

“Not well, I’ve had another vision. I think you might’ve been right about the dreams being prophetic,” you told her, willing your voice not to crack as the image of your bad dreams crept into your mind once again.

Cecillia let out a gentle hum, “Shall I apparate over? You don’t sound in the highest of spirits, darling.”

“Yes please,” you answered simply and within seconds Cecillia was standing before you, a worried furrow in her brow and her ashy brown hair disheveled from apparating to you in such a hurry. How could she not? You were, after all, her protégé.

“Oh, darling. You look terribly shaken up, come, come, let’s get you some water,” she fretted, guiding you to your kitchen, magically flicking on the light with her wand and filling up a glass of water, with a few flicks of her wrist the glass had floated over to your usual seat at the table, meanwhile Cecillia had stirred you into the wooden chair adjacent the glass.

Wordlessly, the witch peeled your damp hair away from your face and secured it back with a crocodile clip shaped like a huge golden bumble bee, it’s wings adorned with glittering gems. The bee sat comfortably in your hair as Cecillia finally sat down beside you, she made herself comfortable on the kitchen chair, crossing one leg over the other, resting her elbow on the table and using it to prop her cheek up. Her wide green eyes stared at you sympathetically, watching intently as you sipped your water.

“I’m assuming your loyal familiar is sleeping soundly?” She wondered, referring to Astra. You shook your head, simultaneously swallowing a gulp of water before responding verbally.

“I sent her with a letter to Harry, it was more of a warning really,” Cecillia nodded her head, signalling you to go on, “I dreamt of Harry and his friends going to the Ministry of Magic to rescue Sirius Black, but it was a trap. When they got there they were ambushed by dark wizards and Sirius well he…” you trailed off, eyes growing distant and unfocused when the sight of the man being murdered reentered your mind’s eye. A gentle hand on your shoulder pulled you back to the present.

“This one was far worse than the others then?”

You nodded, “It didn’t feel like a dream, cecillia. It was like I was actually standing there but I couldn’t do anything to help though… as per usual,” you muttered bitterly, receiving a harsh squeeze to your shoulder in response.

Cecillia fixed you with a maternal glare, “None of that! You potentially saved a life tonight. And, as I effortlessly predicted since the moment I met you, you’ve got the magical gift of sight,” her hard look melted into something more forgiving as she spoke, “You’re much more than just a muggle. You may have been an extremely late bloomer, but, you’re a witch and a seer at that. A peculiar case indeed, although in the wizarding world stranger things have happened,” the old witch told you proudly, eyes shining with glee as your own filled with confusion.

“How do we know the dream will even come true?” You questioned.

Cecillia simply shrugged and offered you a cheeky grin, “I trust your feelings, darling.”

True to your initial feeling, you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, you knew you wouldn’t be able to rest until you found out whether or not your dream had come to fruition. Cecillia remained by your side throughout the night, eventually the sun had risen and your parents descended down the stairs, neither of them were surprised to see Cecillia sitting at the kitchen table. They saw her as an odd woman, very kind and perfectly lovely, but odd. You’d told them that she owned an animal sanctuary and that you’d been volunteering with her, it wasn’t too far fetched really, she had given you an owl after all, not to mention the amount of cats that hung around her cottage.

She explained to your parents that she needed your help at ‘the sanctuary’ for the next few days and that she’d drop you home once the work was finished. It hadn’t been a problem, so you traveled to Cecillia’s cottage after getting dressed and packing an overnight bag (full to the brim with tarot decks and only some clothes).

It was nearly 8 in the evening when Cecillia sauntered into her living room, where you were sitting, sporting a knowing grin, she held a piece of parchment in one hand and an unopened envelope in the other.

Jovially, she plopped herself down beside you, obviously doing her very best to contain a huge grin from forming on her face. Wordlessly, she placed the envelope on your lap with a mere, “For you.”

On the envelope you could tell by the handwriting that it had come from Harry. This was definitely a make or break moment for you. The contents of this letter would either confirm that you did in fact have magic, or, they would be responsible for causing you to experience a seismic amount of embarrassment. Swallowing the lump in your throat you tore the envelope open, freeing the letter and daring to read what was inside.

Dear Y/n,

Your dream was right. And that advice you gave about keeping an eye on Sirius? It saved his life. I suppose I’m mostly writing to say thank you. I’ve got some updates for you too: firstly, it’s finally been confirmed that Voldemort is back so my name is cleared. Secondly, it turns out that Remus and Cecillia are old friends, she contacted him earlier today about your vision and he and Sirius haven’t shut up about how impressive it is. I have a feeling you might be hearing from them soon, The Order now more than ever is in need of a secret weapon and genuine seers are hard to come by. I hate to involve you in this, it’ll probably be dangerous and you know I don’t want to see you hurt, or worse. But having said that, I’m glad we’re in this together now.

Astra got here in good time, by the way, she landed on my window just after I woke up from my vision of Sirius, it was actually quite freaky. I’m taking good care of her so don’t worry, she should be back to you at some point tomorrow.

Hermoine and Ron say hi too. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from George soon, seeing as he and Fred are in the Order… On that note I better get going.

Thank you again for the warning.

See you soon,

Love, Harry.

A bemused smile spread across your lips as you scanned the page, thankful to have finally made a significant difference in Harry’s life. Cecillia was grinning like a cheshire cat beside you, pride shimmering in her emerald eyes. She bumped her arm against yours playfully when you let the letter fall to your lap, “An old friend of mine will be stopping by in a short while. It seems he’d like to get you trained up in some defence against the dark arts.” She told you, still grinning.

“Defence against the dark arts?” You wondered out loud, you were sure you’d heard Harry mention those words to you before, however, the memories were fuzzy.

“Magic to keep you safe from darker magic, the likes of which the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters rely,” she explained darkly. Just then, a loud bang erupted from her open stone fireplace, a bubble of green dissipated as two men stepped less than gracefully onto Cecillia’s faux-fur rug. You recognised them both from your vision. They were Sirius Black and, if you were to take an educated guess, Remus Lupin.

Cecillia wasted no time before she was giddily jumping from her seat to greet the pair who had just appeared in her sitting room.

“Remus! Oh, how wonderful to see you!” She all but squealed, pulling the tall man into a hug and ruffling his already messy hair.

He reciprocated the hug with a gentle chuckle, “It’s nice to see you again, Cece. It’s been far too long,” he pulled away and the pair of them shared a fond smile before simultaneously looking to Sirius. “I trust you remember Sirius?” Lupin asked, almost rhetorically.

Sirius let out a booming laugh at that, “She could never forget me, now could you, Cece?” Cecillia rolled her eyes, and with a look of endearment nearly tackled Sirius into an embrace.

Seeing the woman who was essentially your magical mentor so overjoyed was lovely, Cecillia was jolly at the best of times but you’d never seen her quite like this. Her happiness added to your sense of helpfulness, Sirius Black was obviously important to more than just Harry, if the smile on the free-spirited witches face was anything to go by. Although you were ecstatic for the three witches and wizards before you, you couldn’t help but feel like you were imposing on an intimate reunion.

Awkwardly you cleared your throat, successfully bringing the trio’s attention onto you as you stood by the sofa, smiling unsurely. If it was even possible, all three of their smiles broadened when their gazes landed on you.

“Am I right in assuming that this is my guardian angel?” Sirius asked, separating from Cecillia.

Cecillia nodded, filled with pride, “And isn’t she just the loveliest guardian angel you’ve ever seen?” She gushed, half seriously.

You offered Sirius a bashful smile, along with a nod of greeting, “I’m glad to see you’re alright,” you told him.

His grin stayed fixed in place but he raised a single eyebrow in confusion, “Glad? And yet you’ve never met me before now…” his tone was laced with inquisition, as if he wanted to figure out what ulterior motive you could possibly have for caring about a stranger you’d only ever seen in a dream.

It didn’t take a seer or a psychic to see what Sirius was after, so you simply answered him truthfully, “No, we’ve never met, but you’re still a person, I watched that woman kill you, it was horrible, nobody deserves that. As well as that; I know how much you mean to Harry and what sort of best friend would I be if I didn’t try to help him keep his last family member safe?” Sirius nodded approvingly at your reply, looking between Remus and Cecillia.

“She remind you of anyone?” The black haired man asked in a low chuckle, Remus snickered and Cecillia bit back a grin.

The witch made her way back to your side and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, jostling you ever so slightly when she noticed your vaguely worried expression, “Don’t worry, darling, you just remind us of one of our most treasured school friends, I promise I will tell you all about it later. But for now, I believe Sirius was about to thank you for saving his life?” She prompted, waiting expectantly.

Sirius cleared his throat and straightened his posture before outstretching his arm, offering you his hand which you took firmly in your own. His voice was steady, strong and genuine when he spoke, “I am truly thankful for what you did for not only me but Harry today. I’m extremely proud of my godson for aligning himself with such a strong, powerful and wonderfully loyal young lady.”

“How sweet,” Cecillia cooed, before guiding you to the kitchen, “Come now, boys, kettles on- we have a lot to discuss!” She called over her shoulder.

There certainly had been a lot to discuss. The Order of the Phoenix thought having a seer at their disposal would be extremely beneficial in the upcoming war, the issue was; you are not yet of age and some members of the group didn’t wish to involve a child in their battle. Sirius, Remus and Cecillia made it abundantly clear that if you desired to join the Order, you were more than welcome but you would be welcomed under certain conditions. Those conditions being that your membership be kept under wraps and not disclosed to any muggles, meaning your parents.

“To keep them safe and to give you an escape route if things get too messy, even with the level of magic you’ll have gained by the time the war is in full swing, as a muggle born you’ll most likely need to flee quickly,” Remus explained, though it didn’t make much sense.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to run if my parents knew what we were running from? They’re open minded people, I’m sure they’d understand,” you attempted to reason, the trio but exchanged yet another loaded look with each other.

Cecillia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “We have a contingency plan in place, darling. Nothing you need to worry about for right now,” she reassured, easing your nerves a tad. “You trust me don’t you?” She followed up, her tone slightly stonier, more serious. You nodded your head certainly in response, there was no doubt about it; you trusted the witch with your life. “Then,” she began again, a somewhat chastising look on her face, “Trust that I will not allow a single hair on your head to be harmed.” This rule also extended to wizards not in the Order, which meant that when in the magical world, you were to air on the side of extreme caution.

Relating to that, another condition was that, at all times in the magical world, you were to be accompanied by an of age member of the Order. According to Sirius, who your were growing to like more by the second, he was going to arrange for a member of the Order to bring you to Diagon Alley in the morning to get you a wand. The prospect of having a wand of your own was terribly exciting, once again though, you found yourself wondering if you had it in you to properly wield one, or wield one at all for that matter. You were too exhausted to fret for too long, so the thoughts about magic levels and your own capabilities were only fleeting. Once all of the serious chat dissipated into friendly chatter, you managed to slip away from the table at which you were all sat. Making your way back to the sitting room, you tucked yourself into the corner seat of Cecillia’s old and very comfortable sofa, pulled your knees against your chest, wrapped your arms around them and rested your cheek against your knee. Slowly and deeply, you began to breathe in and out, fiddling with the amazonite bracelet that adorned your wrist in order to quell your ever growing anxiety. For a few sweet minutes you indulged in the calm silence, meditating peacefully in your comfy seat until a soft knock sounded from the doorway. When your eyes fluttered open they were met with the image of Sirius Black, leaning casually against the frame of the door, a hand plunged deep into his trouser pocket and another flipping a stray tarot card between his fingers. His eyes were focused on yours as he spoke, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

You shook your head and patted the seat beside you, “‘Course not, come sit.”

The man chuckled but obliged, settling in the spot beside you and offering you the card he’d previously been fiddling with.

“The ten of swords,” you identified easily, “I assume you’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed if this card found its way to you.”

Sirius hummed, “CeCe tells me that you’ve a penchant for card reading. I was rubbish at divination back at Hogwarts, only took it because I thought it’d be easy but I could never get my head around it,” he reminisced, an airy laugh slipping from his lips.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who were you all talking about earlier when you asked if I reminded Cecilia and Remus of anyone?” He let out a deep sigh before fixing you with a soft smile.

“An old school friend of ours, she was more than a friend to me, but that’s a story for another time,” he started, staring out into the empty space before him a melancholy grin on his lips, “She was fiercely loyal to her friends, if she wanted to help there was absolutely nothing that would stop her from doing so. I know I don’t know you very well, but from what I heard today and the way in which you’ve been described to me by Harry; I can see her in you,” he finished, bumping his shoulder with yours and forcing a happy smile onto your lips which mirrored Sirius’.

“What’s her name?” You asked.

“Her name was Marlene,” Sirius answered.

Your heart dropped with his use of past tense, “Was?”

Sirius bowed his head slightly and began to twist the rings that adorned his slender fingers, “She was killed during the first war,” he told you, making eye contact once again, a grave expression on his face as he continued, “I saw your apprehension earlier when we brought up the topic of secrecy, but you must understand that during the first war we lost so many who were dear to us, keeping you in our back pocket will ensure that you aren’t harmed in the face of this war, if any dark wizards hear so much of a whisper of a muggleborn seer they will stop at nothing to eliminate you,” he paused for a brief second, never breaking eye contact, the gravity of the situation heavy on your chest your fingers absentmindedly found your amazonite bracelet once again. Your movements were halted when Sirius placed his large hand over yours, squeezing it warmly while staring at you determinedly, “You saved my life today, Y/n. So believe me when I tell you that I will stop at nothing to keep you safe,” he promised and you squeezed his hand in return.

“I know,” he smiled as he watched your eyes return to the ten of swords and your grin broadened with the sort of mischief he’d only ever seen in four people; James Potter, Marlene McKinnon and Fred and George Weasley. “I have a prediction for you.”

Sirius entertained you fondly, a mischievous air that reminded him of when he was your age surrounding the pair of you, “By all means, do tell.”

“I predict,” you paused for emphasis, “that we are going to be very good friends.”

Sirius let out a booming laugh of which the volume he couldn’t control, “That is a prediction I truly hope will come to fruition.”

“Oh no, this is a duo that spells trouble,” Cecillia giggled to Remus as they entered the sitting room.

Remus looked between you and Sirius with a grin, “With a mentor like you, Cece, I’m not surprised Y/n has a taste for mischief,” the ruffled wizard teased, receiving a gentle elbow to the ribs from your mentor.

“Oi, if you’re going to blame my beloved girl’s mischief on anyone you better blame it on a certain Weasley twin,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows and causing the boys to smile giddily like teenagers.

Sirius bumped your shoulder again, this time with a faux-scandalised smile, “A Weasley twin, eh? Come on then, which one?” You blushed heavily and cleared your throat in an attempt to alleviate the embarrassment filling your being.

“He’s just a friend!”

“Mhm. A friend that sends her annotated pages from his divination text book,” Cecillia sang and Sirius snickered.

“Whichever one it is must be quite taken with you if you made him actually crack open a textbook.”

“Annotations are quite intimate,” Remus half teased although you could see he believed what he’d just said, “I bet it’s George,” he directed the bet at Sirius who carefully observed the way you bit your lip and bashfully looked towards the wooden floor.

“I think you’re right, moony. Now!” He stood suddenly and pointed a finger at Remus expectantly, “We best get going and arrange Y/n’s accomplice for tomorrow’s field trip,” he wiggled his eyebrows before turning his head to face you again, he shot you a wink and you couldn’t stop the airy laugh that left your mouth at his lighthearted antics.

Remus gave Cecillia a one armed hug, “we’ll be seeing you both tomorrow then, it was lovely to meet you, Y/n, perhaps next time Sirius will allow me to get a word in,” he chuckled and Sirius responded by throwing his arm around your shoulder.

“I better get off, this husband of mine is growing jealous,” he told you in a teasingly hushed whisper.

Your eyes widened and you looked between the two men, “You two are married?”

A love struck smile took over both of their faces which immediately gave you your answer. “We’re engaged,” Sirius clarified before pulling you into a proper hug, “Get a good night's sleep, we’ll be sending an order member to collect you early tomorrow morning so you can be in and out of Olivander’s before a crowd can build,” he told you while giving you an affectionate squeeze, you could’ve laughed when you realised that it felt like you’d known Sirius forever but you also could’ve cried when you relived the image of him losing his life and realised that just because it was over and prevented didn't mean it hadn’t still transpired in your mind’s eye, you didn’t let that show on your face though.

“I’ll make sure I’m well rested,” you promised.

With that, Sirius bid Cecillia goodbye, and he and Remus left the way they’d came.

The rest of the night had been spent with Cecillia telling you story after story about her school days and the trouble she’d caused with Sirius, Remus, James and Lily Potter, Harry’s parents, and another boy who she only referred to as “the rat”. Though the tone of the stories were completely lighthearted, they weighed on your chest with a sense of such tragedy. A huge majority of their friends were killed young because of the war, a war that was now waging once again. It led you to wonder who’d be lost to this one, if perhaps you’d be on the list of names that Harry or Cecillia or George would speak about fondly with a dense undertone of sorrow in the years after the second war had long since been won. It was a risk you were willing to take though, the notion of fighting for a deserving cause filled you with a sense of purpose, a purpose you’d been searching for for years. More than that, you felt important. You were needed. An asset. You would actually be of some help.

True to your word, you’d been getting a good night’s rest. The bed in Cecillia’s spare room was the comfiest thing you’d ever come across, though, as you began to stir from your deep slumber you couldn’t recall the empty side of the double bed being quite so dipped.

Slowly and begrudgingly, you cracked your eyes open to see Cecillia smiling tiredly at you in the light of dawn, “Morning, darling. Sorry about the early start, I’ve made you some tea,” she greeted quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the early morning. She held two ceramic mugs, one in each hand and passed you the steaming cup that was hand painted green, keeping the brown one for herself. Tiredly, you patted the spot beside you and pulled the quilt to the side, inviting the witch into the warm bed. She happily slid in, pulling the quilt over her and chuckling quietly when you dropped your head onto her robed shoulder and began to sip the tea she’d made. Cecillia rested her head against yours and sipped on her own tea.

“Are you excited for today?” She asked and you hummed.

“I’m having mixed emotions,” you stated, “I’m excited to see everything, but I’m sort of nervous that I won’t have enough magic to even get a wand,” Comfort spread through your chest when Cecillia pressed her lips to the crown of your head.

“The wonderful thing about wands, lovely, is that the wand picks the wizard,” she began, “so whatever wand you end up with will accentuate the level of magic inside you. Its power will grow as yours does and you’ll soon come to realise that you couldn’t imagine wielding anything else,” her voice was wistful and her eyes shined with wonder as she recalled how it felt to bond to a wand.

“What do you think mine will be like?” You wondered, excitement awakening in you thanks to Cecillia’s encouraging words.

The witch took an exaggerated slurp of her tea before answering, “Something curious,” was all she said.

“Insightful,” you murmured and she shrugged unapologetically, her chaotic energy exuding now that she’d started to wake up fully. “What time is it anyway?”

“Half six, your chaperone should be arriving at seven and Olivander’s opens at eight,” she told you before shimmying out of bed, you whined in the absence of your head rest. “You better get dressed. Wear something nice, rumour has it that your tag along is quite the eligible bachelor,” she wiggled her eyebrows and all but floated out of the spare room. It was practically your room by now though, over the years since you’d gotten Astra and met Cecillia you’d stayed in the room on countless occasions. Cecillia embodied something that was something between a second mother, a spiritual mentor, a teasing older sister and a slightly kooky aunt.

“Oh? So do you reckon I should brush my hair then?” You jokingly called out after her only to receive a harsh scoff.

“Absolutely not! Don’t be desperate!” You barked out a laugh at her response, shaking your head and getting ready for the day ahead.

You were just about finished getting ready when a familiar bang sounded from the sitting room. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself one last look over in the mirror, happy with the outfit you’d chosen, you made your way towards the sitting room to come face to face with your surprise chaperone for the day.

When you shuffled into the sitting room, a smile immediately stretched across your lips upon seeing who had been appointed to stick by your side for the day, “George!” His name left your mouth in a squeal that would’ve been embarrassing had you not been so excited to see him. It’d been upwards of a year since the last time you’d seen George in the flesh and although you’d seen each other in photos and written to each other at a rate that was almost excessive, the prospect of spending time together in person was, for lack of a better word; magical.

George drew his attention away from the framed pictures that lined Cecillia’s fireplace to see you standing in the doorway, looking as bright as the newly risen sun and sporting a smile that he couldn’t quite put into words how it made him feel. It only took a second before his own cheek splitting smile grew on his face, and with it left his hopes of impressing you with his cool and collected attitude. You hadn’t given him too much time to dwell on his ruined cool guy facade as you all but threw yourself into his arms. The red head let out an endearing laugh, catching you in his toned arms, wrapping them tightly around your torso. A scarlet blush rising on his ears when he felt your smile against his neck. “Hello to you too,” he chuckled against your ear and you pulled back enough to look at him, your arms still secure around his shoulders.

“Sorry,” you started, the smile that still adorned your lips telling him that you weren’t all that sorry at all, “Hi,” you greeted, bashfully pulling your arms away from him.

The sitting room was quiet for a moment as the pair of you only stared at each other, would it be too much to tell him that you’ve missed him? You didn’t want to come on too strong after such a long time apart, you’d already tackled him into a hug within the first five seconds, but with that came your next internal question of; did you really want to keep this boy on his toes?

George, having already discarded his notion of acting nonchalant with you, bet you to the punch. He rubbed the back of his neck and flicked his gaze to the floor before bringing it back to you, “I’ve missed you.”

A giggle left your lips before you could think about choking it down, you nodded your head, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet, “Yeah, I’ve missed you too. Sorry I haven’t written, Astra is still with Harry.”

George gave you a grin, “No worries, darling. Heard you’ve been a very busy little psychic lately.”

Darling, you mused internally, the nickname echoing through your head and causing your heart to somersault in a way you’d never really felt before.

“Oh how sweet,” Cecillia sang from the doorway, a wicked grin on her face as she took in the two hopeless blushing messes, staring doe-eyed at each other in the middle of her living room. “I hate to break up the reunion, my dears, but the pair of you really should get going,” she instructed, strutting up to you and holding a cloth pouch in your direction, “Sirius left you some spending money, it’s different than the money you usually use but I’m sure George will have no problem helping you out,” Cecillia shot the boy a wink and he nodded, once again growing bashful.

“Now,” she grew serious, directing her words at George and making him slightly intimidated with her strong eye contact, “You are to be extremely careful. You are not to mention that Y/n is a seer and you are not to draw any attention to the fact that she is a muggleborn, if Mr. Olivander asks, she’s a half-blood who's been living in the states and that’s why she doesn’t have a wand,” you wore a confused expression, George nodded in complete understanding, “Did Sirius give you the list?”

George nodded once again, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of the back pocket of his slightly baggy denim jeans, “May I take a look?” Cecillia asked, already snatching the parchment from George’s long fingers and unfolding the sheet and reading it aloud, “Alright! A wand… seriously? He used a whole page of parchment just to write one thing?” She grumbled, stomping over to the nearest side table, leaning down and began to scribble on the parchment. You looked to George as she wrote, “Why do you have to say I’m from the States?” You asked quietly and George leaned down slightly to be closer to your ear.

“Witches and wizards in America don’t get wands until they’re of age, we get them here when we’re eleven,” just as he was finished offering his explanation, Cecillia walked back over, a hard look on her face that you weren’t used to seeing, though it seemed that the look was reserved for George.

Silently she handed him the parchment before looking to you, hard look dissolving back into her usual playful expression, “Have fun, lovely.” She then turned to George again, apparently having had enough of trying to intimidate the poor boy, she shot him a smile, “You’ll be taking the floo to Diagon Alley, my fireplace is big enough to take the both of you at once,” she handed George a pouch of what looked like green powder, “George knows what to do, now, not to sound like a broken record but do stay safe and have fun,” she finished, ushering the pair of you into her fireplace. You couldn’t lie, it was quite strange, you supposed you should get used to things coming across as strange, you were about to be exposed to the magical wizarding world for the first time after all. In the fireplace, you stood shoulder to shoulder with George, noticing the nervous look on your face, he slid his hand into yours gently. When you looked at him, he kept his face focused on his feet, “Ready, Y/n?” Taking a deep breath you nodded shakily.

“Ready, George.”

At your words, George slammed the green powder onto the ground and shouted, “Diagon Alley!”

You were sure you were going to be sick. Whatever the powder was, it had you spinning at a pace you didn’t know was possible, you had screwed your eyes shut and you were almost certain that you could feel yourself physically moving. It was only when George tugged on your hand that you opened your eyes to see that your surroundings had actually changed. “It’s horrible the first time, but you get used to it,” George said, pulling you by your still intertwined hands onto the cobbled street. The dizziness died down after only a few seconds out in the fresh air, the added sensation of George’s thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hand seemed to do the trick in settling you completely as you took in the street ahead of you. It was dazzling, really. A long cobbled street, lined with shops that looked like they were plucked straight out of a fairytale. As planned, the streets were fairly empty in the early morning as George led you down the path towards the shop where you’d hopefully get your wand. The name “Olivanders” was written above both windows of the dark shop, the words “makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.” were to be seen just above the door. Excitement had completely overridden your nerves and you practically skipped towards the door, George followed casually behind you, his hands tucked into his pockets and a fond smile on his lips.

“I suppose you’re excited then?” He asked teasingly and you didn’t bother trying to hide your obvious childlike wonder as you waited for him to catch up with you.

“It probably seems silly to you, but this morning Cecillia told me all about when she got her wand and it sounded so wonderful,” you told him, smiling when he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“I don’t think it’s silly, I still get giddy thinking about the time Fred and I got wands of our own,” he pushed the door open and motioned for you to step inside, slowly you walked into the empty shop. It was dark and somewhat dingy but there was something very mystically inclining about it, you could feel the energy and it was utterly exhilarating.

“Wow,” you breathed out, spinning where you stood, gazing at the boxes upon boxes that lined the shelves.

Only a minute passed before an old man stumbled to the front of the shop, smiling at the pair of you from behind the counter, “Ah, Mr. Weasley, it’s good to see you, it’s been some time. What can I do for you this morning? I see you’ve brought a friend,” the older wizard greeted and you smiled in response.

“I’m looking for a wand. I’ve been living in the states for the past few years but I just moved home,” you lied easily, George couldn’t help but smirk, what he’d give to have had you around for some of his and Fred’s pranks at Hogwarts.

The old man nodded in understanding, his eyes scanned you, his eyes were scrutinising and you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze, “Interesting. One moment please,” he said, murmuring to himself as he searched the isles for what he was looking for. A small “aha” sounded from within the isles, he was back in front of you within seconds, an open rectangular box in his hand. It was absolutely gorgeous, it resembled a raw tree branch, wood spiralling up its expanse until it stopped at the top, cutting off in a jagged, dull edge. He must’ve noticed how your jaw dropped, how could he not? He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you since you’d wandered into his shop. He was an old wizard, but he wasn’t naive, he was well aware you weren’t returning from America, he could sense an energy in you that he hadn’t come in contact with in a long time. “Curious, isn’t it?” He prompted you, causing you to let out an airy laugh. Cecillia was going to tease you big time when you got back to her cabin.

“It’s lovely, what is it?” He offered you the box expectantly and you hesitantly picked up the wand with as much care as you possibly could. It was cool against your skin and was heavier than you’d imagined it would be.

“Thirteen inch, oak; cut from the base of a tree, which at the time, was almost six hundred years old,” he explained, watching happily as you ran your fingers along the wands several ridges,”With a phoenix feather core, quite a rare piece indeed. Unfortunately, this particular wand has been extremely difficult to match to a witch. But something tells me that you might be just the witch for the job,” he held your gaze and you once again got the feeling that he knew something he shouldn’t, “Go on, then. Give it a wave,” he prompted and you looked to George for further encouragement. George laughed at your lost expression, pulling his own wand out and pointing it towards the now empty box on the counter, “Like this, love,” he demonstrated, moving his wrist in a semi-circle motion, making the box levitate off the counter.

Another pet name. You ignored the butterflies in your stomach in favour of clearing your throat, squaring your shoulders and pointing your wand at the same box George had just made float, which was now settled back against the counter. Imitating the boy beside you, you moved your wrist in a swift semi-circle. Suddenly, a golden light poured from the tip of the wand and warm air surrounded you, gently blowing your hair back and forcing a laugh of disbelief to leave your lips. George stood wide eyed beside you, his lips parted slightly. He was amazed really, he went through five wands before he found the one that fit him, yet you’d found yours on the first try, and he had to admit; you looked glorious doing it.

After paying for your wand, you exited the shop, looking around George’s side at the list he was holding. From what you could make out, Cecillia had added a number of items to the originally very short list; 1) a wand, 2) a pendulum (crystal of the ladies choice), 3) crystals: labradorite, lapis lazuli & azurite, 4) mugwort, 5) new tarot deck (again, whatever she wants Sirius can afford it ;)).

“Suppose our next stop is the divination shop,” George said, mostly to himself but gave you a mischievous smile, “If we hurry up and get our shopping done fast we could probably get a butterbeer in before we rejoin the rest of the Order,” he sang, grazing his hand against yours as you walked side by side.

“Beer? You seriously want to drink beer at half eight in the morning?” You asked him, your eyebrow raised and he replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against his side and once again leaning his head down so his lips were level with your eye.

“No, you git,” he began with a laugh, “It’s not really beer, it’s pretty sweet; most wizards love it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, “Sounds nice,” you told him absently, preoccupied with all the intriguing shops that surrounded you. George’s arm remained wrapped around your shoulder as you strolled further into Diagon Alley, seemingly uninterested in his offer for a butterbeer. The pair of you got what you needed from the shop and, since it hadn’t taken long, you decided to take George up on his drinks offer. You noticed that he seemed a little bit crestfallen since your noncommittal answer earlier.

“Hey,” you said, bumping your arm against his.

“Hello,” he replied, returning the gesture.

“So… d’you wanna go get one of those beer things that you were talking about earlier?” You asked nervously, your lip between your teeth. For all you knew, asking someone to grab a butterbeer in the wizarding world was the muggle equivalent to proposing.

George flashed you a grin that was almost childlike, it was mesmerising, so sweet and pure and you almost wished you’d brought your camera to take a picture of it. “I thought you’d never ask.”

With a giggle you let him grab your hand and lead you excitedly towards a building that had “The Leaky Cauldron” written above the door. When you got inside, George led you to a small round table with two chairs and you both sat down opposite each other. As casually as you could, you rested your elbow against the table and let your cheek rest against your fist, for a solid few minutes, while George ordered, you curiously looked around the pub until your gaze finally rested on George who was already looking at you with a soft smile, “Having fun?” He asked, genuinely curious.

You nodded your head, “Mhm, are you? I’m sure getting up at the crack of dawn to take me shopping isn’t something someone like you would usually like to do for fun,” you said, becoming slightly self conscious when you realised that he probably wasn’t enjoying the morning as much as you were. This was all normal for him, you’d nearly forgotten.

George gave you a perplexed look, “Course I’m having fun, love. But, what do you mean someone like me?”

You shrugged, once again pushing down the butterflies that arose in your stomach from the pet name, “I dunno, you’re just- you’re mischievous and fun and… I don’t know, shopping for stuff with me doesn’t seem like it’s something you’d want to do. I just hope Sirius didn’t force you into it,” you admitted shyly, smiling gratefully at the waiter when he placed the mugs of golden liquid on the table.

George chewed on his bottom lip for a second before he shook his head, “He didn’t force me. I sort of, well, I sort of forced him to let me take you. He wanted Professor Lupin to do it but I…” he let out an exaggerated sigh before giving you a smile, “I wanted to spend time with you,” he confessed sweetly, watching happily as a smile formed on your lips and you tried to hide it in the rim of your butterbeer. He laughed when your face lit up once the liquid hit your lips, “Like it?”

“This stuff is amazing,” you almost shouted, taking another large sip from the drink, “No wonder you all love it so much.”

George snickered, “Just in case it wasn’t clear; I’m having a lot of fun with you,” he said all too casually, taking a sip of his drink.

“Where to now?” You wondered, after you’d finished your drinks and set off back towards the floo network.

George shot you a cheeky look and wiggled his eyebrows, “I’m taking you back to headquarters.”

“Sounds ominous,” you commented, following him into the fireplace, nervously.

“D’you want a tip?” George asked out of the blue and you looked up at him expectantly, nodding. “The dizziness isn’t as bad if you keep your eyes open,” he whispered, taking your hand once again and throwing down the same green powder from earlier and shouting a new location that you hadn’t heard before. You cringed as the world began to spin, listening to George’s advice hadn’t helped much as the transportation was just as awful as it had been the first time. Unbeknownst to you, you were squeezing George’s hand like your life depended on it, George’s thumb had resumed brushing circles around your hand in response, the harsh squeezing didn’t bother him at all, not when it was you doing the squeezing. Just like earlier, George led you out of the fireplace and into the unfamiliar sitting room. Though the room was completely unfamiliar it was full of faces you immediately recognised, one face in particular standing out above all the rest.

In a second you’d dropped not only George’s hand, but all of your shopping bags to the floor carelessly and hurled yourself towards the boy who had already begun rushing towards you the second he caught sight of you appearing in the fireplace. Your bodies collided with so much force that you nearly sent each other tumbling to the ground, laughter sounded from both of you as you swayed the other, almost roughly, the way you always did when reuniting after an extended period of time.

“Glad to see you in one piece, Harry,” you told him with a cheeky smile on your lips, opting not to call him Haz in front of all of his wizard friends lest they tease him, not to mention you’d become quite possessive of the nickname, you wouldn’t be too pleased if anyone else started adopting it. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud.

“Yeah, you too,” his smile was as wide as could be when he shook his head, “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Do you want me to pinch you?” You teased, jokingly taking his cheek between your thumb and your pointer, giving the skin between them a gentle squeeze. Harry swatted your hand away with a low chuckle and unraveled his arms from around you.

“Alright, you two, if you’re ready we have some matters we need to discuss with our newest member,” Sirius’ voice sounded from behind you, a knowing look on his face as he watched Harry sneakily pinch your arm in retaliation. He had to fight the urge he felt to reminisce on his old school days; when he’d purposely annoy James, Remus or Peter and receive the exact same mockingly vengeful look that you’d just given Harry.

“I’ll bring your things to the kitchen,” George announced, reminding you of his presence before he walked rather quickly out of the room, bags clutched in his hands.

Harry snorted out a laugh when Sirius followed George out of the room, leaving the both of you alone. Harry wiggled his eyebrows and did his best to make his voice take on a sultry tone, “he’s bringing your things to the kitchen.”

“Shut your mouth, Potter,” you replied, pinching his cheek for the second time and tossing your arm around his shoulder, him doing the same as he led you to what you assumed was the kitchen.

“Do I have your permission to open my mouth to tell you something,” Harry asked lightly, stopping so you were both standing outside a closed wooden door.

“I’ll allow it,” you answered, smiling softly at your best friend.

Harry grinned, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Haz,” the boy groaned at the name but made no further comment, he pushed the wooden door open and walked inside.

The room held a long table where many adults were sat, chatting in hushed whispers when you entered the room, some of whom you recognised and some you didn’t. Mrs. Weasley was fluttering about the table, filling people’s tea cups before she spotted you. The woman, who you’d only ever met briefly at King’s Cross station one year, rushed over to you and greeted you warmly, “Hello, dear! Come, come sit down!” She ushered you to a vacant chair beside George and across from Fred, Harry took the seat on your other side. “I trust you got everything you needed from Diagon Alley? I hope that son of mine didn’t cause any trouble for you,” you gave her a friendly smile and shook your head.

“Yes, we were able to find what we needed and George was very helpful,” Mrs. Weasley, seemingly satisfied with your answer, offered a gentle smile to you and George. She then pushed a cup of tea towards you before sitting down herself.

Beneath the table George bumped his knee lightly against yours, but didn’t break from his conversation with his twin as he left his knee pressed against yours. You didn’t draw attention to it either, simply letting your knee relax against his as the witches and wizards at the long table grew quiet in favour of staring at you wordlessly.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the news of the seer we’ve acquired,” Sirius’ commanding voice broke the silence as he stood up from his chair, and placed his palms against the table, “I’ve brought her here today so that we may discuss proceedings to ensure her safety.”

“Yes,” a toneless drawl, drawn out nasally from the end of the table drew your attention to a black haired man at the opposite end of the table, “and what of Mr. Potter’s presence?” He asked, almost menacingly. Right off the bat, you didn’t like the greasy haired man. He was rigid and his face sported a permanent snarl and from across the table you could already tell; he wasn’t on your side.

“She’s my best friend, I’m here to make sure she’s not going to be put in any unnecessary danger,” Harry told the man shortly, in a tone that he’d more than likely perfected after having spoken to the man previously.

“As touching as that may be,” the older man snarled, “you are not a member of the Order.”

“Oh, enough, Serverus,” Sirius scoffed, pulling his hand down his face in exasperation before he let his eyes settle on Harry, “Perhaps you should wait upstairs for now. We’ll let you know of any significant updates.”

“I’ll tell you everything later, promise,” you whispered quietly, linking his pinky with yours beneath the table before he stropily took his leave.

“As I was saying,” Sirius spared Severus a glare and continued, “As we know, Yn is an unregistered wizard with an unregistered wand, meaning she won’t be on the radar of The Ministry of Magic. On the downside of this, seeing as her power manifested late, she is also untrained.”

All gazes fell to you once more, only Remus’ eyes were staring softly, crinkled at the edges from the smile on his lips, “I’ll be tutoring her in Defence Against the Dark Arts over the summer. She’ll catch up quickly, no doubt,” you smiled gratefully at him from your spot, relaxing a bit knowing that you’d actually be learning how to defend yourself the wizard way.

“I suppose I will be tasked with teaching the art of Occlumency? A seer with an easily accessible mind is hardly an asset,” Severus drawled. You didn’t have a clue what occlumency was, in all honesty, but you kept your mouth shut in favour of asking Remus when the meeting was over.

The meeting soon drew to a close, the older Order members slinking to one end of the table to arrange the schedule for your glorified summer school while you, Fred and George snuck away to find Harry. You found him sitting against the headboard of a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms, “How’d it go?”

“Take a guess, mate, Snape had a right sour look on his face the whole time,” Fred answered, sitting on the bed across from Harry’s. George sat beside him and you made your way to sit with Harry.

“Ah, so that was the infamous professor Snape?” All three boys nodded, looks of exhaustion on their faces, “I don’t trust him. Something is very off about him,” you spoke thoughtfully and the boys nodded in agreement once again.

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him,” George said, his brows furrowed.

Fred snorted and clapped his twin roughly on the shoulder, “Getting a bit jealous are you, Georgie?” Harry laughed along with Fred while you blushed lightly and George felt heat rising up the nape of his neck.

“Sod off,” he muttered, but made no attempt to deny that he was slightly jealous of all the alone time his old evil potions professor would be getting with the girl he was harbouring feelings for.

The afternoon quickly turned into the evening and before long you were gathering your things and preparing to return to Cecillia’s. Harry would be heading back to the Dursley’s later that night, much to his dismay. You told him you’d be back on Privet Drive at some point the next morning since Cecillia would be dropping you home, as she promised your parents, so he wouldn’t have to suffer alone for too long.

That summer came and went in a bit of a blur. Two days in each week were spent learning how to protect yourself against the dark arts with Remus. He’s an amazing teacher, that couldn’t be disputed. In the space of only two months he had you duelling like you’d been doing it since the day you were born. Of course, you were thrilled to be bonding with your wand and developing (according to Remus) a very impressive skill for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But, on top of that, the shared conversations and exchanging of stories over hefty mugs of hot chocolate with the werewolf had been a huge highlight of your summer, and had caused the two of you to grow exponentially closer.

September was nearing and with it came a stiff breeze that prompted the hair on your arms to stand alert as you waited by the bus stop, the one just down the road from your house. Today was to be an important lesson with Remus, he hadn’t told you what the lesson would entail, but he had said that it was a charm that was “of the utmost importance”.

Although June, July and August were technically your summer holidays, you’d barely had a second to rest. You were, at this point, running on fumes and sheer will power. Extensively using magic was bound to wear you out, however, getting a good night’s rest after a gruelling training session had become something of a luxury for you. Visions of the future and retellings of past torments plagued your dreams and allowed you no time to rest. One vision in particular had been reoccurring, it arrived every night for the past two weeks, taunting you. The autumn chill that dripped down your spine reminded you of the premonition, having your hairs standing due to fright, rather than cold. It was always the same, no details ever shifted or warped and, unfortunately, the experience never grew any less harrowing. The warning that the vision brought about weighed on you heavily and followed you around like a stray cat. Images of a cold, desolate, blue-hued cellar lived behind your eyes, the phantom feeling of freezing metal shackles weighed on your wrists painfully and the undiluted terror combined with the indescribable agony brought about by the unfamiliar wand shoved against your throat had you forcing yourself to stay awake until you physically couldn’t anymore, each and every night. Nobody knew about the vision, you didn’t want to worry them, though, you knew that your distress was beginning to become visible; dark bags were prominent beneath your eyes, Harry had watched you fall asleep in the middle of the day, often on his shoulder, almost everyday that week and Remus could tell by the sluggish movements of your wand that your mind was elsewhere.

A few minutes passed before your bus arrived, the journey to Grimmauld Place was quite long but you couldn’t seem to warm up to floo travel, so going on a regular bus was the better option. When the red double decker pulled up, you greeted the driver with a smile and paid for your ticket. You made your way up to the second story and sat right at the front. The bus, as it normally tended to be, was empty. Resting your head against the window, you let your eyes slip shut, the noises of tree branches brushing against the speeding windows lulling you into a, hopefully, peaceful sleep.

Thankfully when you woke up, no visions lingered. You woke up just in time too as the bus was rounding up to your stop. As usual, Remus waited for you at the bus stop, his hands shoved deep in his tattered jacket pockets and a gentle smile on his lips.

Still groggy from your nap, when you exited the bus you greeted Remus with a tired wave.

“Dare I say you haven’t been sleeping well, dear?” He said gently, walking alongside you towards the house.

You thought about it for a second, perhaps telling someone wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. “I’ve just, well, I’ve been having this nightmare,” you started, growing nervous just thinking about it.

“Nightmare or vision?” He pressed as you walked into the house.

Guilt creeped into your chest upon seeing the clear worry on his face, “I think it’s a vision.”

Remus nodded quietly, placing his hand on the small of your back and pushing you in the direction of the living room. He gave you a warm smile, when you sat down on the sofa. He grabbed a blanket that hung over the back of the sofa and draped it over your lap. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate and we can discuss this,” he suggested.

“I thought you had an important lesson for today?” He only shook his head, smiling lightly.

He made his way to the door wordlessly and returned within two minutes with two big, steaming mugs in his hands. Remus handed you a mug and sat down beside you on the sofa, accepting your invitation to pull the blanket over his lap too.

“Now tell me; what has been going on in that wonderful mind of yours?”

You took in a deep breath, staring into the hot chocolate and avoiding his understanding gaze, “It happened for the first time around two weeks ago. I thought that it was just a dream, it didn’t feel like a dream but I thought that if I kept telling myself it was I would start to believe it,” you started, taking a sip of your drink before going back to staring at it, “But it kept coming back. Every night for the last two weeks. I haven’t been able to sleep, I’ve been too scared to,” your voice was small as you made the confession. You hated that the feeling of helplessness was beginning to wash over you yet again.

“What happens in this vision?” At his question, you placed your cup on the floor and turned to face him fully, turning on the sofa and pulling your knees up to your chest.

“It’s always the same. I wake up and the first thing I know is that I’m absolutely freezing. I’m in this cellar-like thing. I’m chained up by my wrists and my feet are barely touching the ground… I can’t see anyone but I can feel-“ your breath hitched and you rushed the swipe the tears that were falling away from your cheeks, “I can feel a wand against my throat, it’s pressing hard. There’s a whisper, it’s quiet and ghostly and I can barely make it out but I hear them say; crucio.”

Remus’ eyes widened in horror.

“Then I feel nothing but agonising pain and then I wake up,” Remus’ eyebrows furrowed.

“You’ve had this same vision every night?” You nodded.

“I know I should have said something but I didn’t want anyone to worry,” it was then that Remus grabbed your hands and looked at you with a sense of urgency you didn’t know he could possess.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully,” his eyes were wild and his hands shook lightly as they held yours, “You-Know-Who is back. There are already reports of certain Wizards going missing and none of us have any doubt that it’s his doing. And although I- we- care for you a great deal, it would serve us all well to remember that you’re a detrimental piece in this war. If he catches wind of you, he’ll stop at nothing to take you from us,” your heart was now running at the speed of a hummingbird. “We have a plan in place to keep you safe, I fear we may have to implement it sooner than planned.”

Before you knew it, you were surrounded by the entire Order of the Phoenix, all of whom looked grave. Cecillia sat to your right while Nymphadora Tonks occupied the seat to your left. You had the pink haired auror to thank for your duelling capabilities, as well as Remus of course. Her presence was comforting, she made it a point to shoot you a wink every time she caught your eyes looking more fearful than usual.

“Our original plan will need to be tweaked, I ran into Narcissa Malfoy in Diagon Alley and she very plainly insinuated that I was a person of interest in the death eating community,” Cecillia informed the table, a, for lack of a better word, bitchy tone laced in her voice. She’d told you many of her Hogwarts stories, you could recall her telling you that she and the woman she’d mentioned, Narcissa, had once been good friends until around their fourth year. She hadn’t told you what exactly had happened, only that it had been messy.

“What was the original plan?” You asked, growing frustrated with the Order’s lack of communication skills.

Thankfully, being one of the younger members of the group, Tonks understood your frustrations and spoke up on behalf of the group, regardless of whether they were ready for you to know or not; she understood that it was your life they were coordinating.

“We talked about relocating you to CeCe’s. We also, and far more pressingly, planned on erasing all traces of you from both the muggle and wizard world. Which would mean using a memory charm on your family and friends in the muggle world,” Tonks explained, eyes locked on yours while everyone else in the room glared daggers at the purple haired girl.

“Yes. Though we also planned on telling you this information with a far more delicate approach,” Snapped Molly Weasley from the end of the table, causing Fred, who sat to her left, to roll his eyes.

“She’s been riddled with visions of being ruthlessly tortured with an unforgivable curse for the past two weeks. I think the time for delicacy is long passed,” the older of the two twins practically scoffed. George nodded in agreement.

“Besides,” he set his gaze on you, eyes genuine and unwavering as he spoke, “she’s strong enough to handle the truth. It’s time you all stopped acting like she isn’t.”

The table fell silent. His words hung in the air as many of the adults hung their heads.

“By memory charm I’m assuming you mean obliviate?” You broke the silence, if you could you hoped to start an open conversation with the experienced witches and wizards that surrounded you.

“Yes. They’re completely reversible and once the war is over I’ll restore all of the memories.” Cecillia said.

“We know it’s a huge ask, dear, but it’s our best chance at keeping you out of that wretched creature’s hands,” Molly attempted to soothe both you and herself when she pictured what it would like to be in your shoes, how she’d feel if she had no other choice but to be forgotten by the thing she valued the most; her family. Molly Weasley had never been very good at hiding her maternal instincts, over the summer that fact had become glaringly obvious to you. You and Harry had laughed about how the children of Privet Drive had a special place in her heart.

“I understand,” you told her sadly, chewing on the inside of your lip, “I’m guessing by the atmosphere in the room that I won’t be home to say goodbye before you wipe their memories,” you shifted yours eyes from person to person, stopping when Cecillia took your hand firmly in hers.

Her lips were downturned and her eyes filled with guilt, she shook her head mournfully, “I’m afraid we can’t risk it, my darling. Even being here places you in danger at the moment.”

“Where will she go then? If CeCe’s place isn’t an option we’ll have to find a safe house,” Sirius sounded and, simultaneously, both Fred and George stood up, shoulder to shoulder with very professional expressions on their faces.

“We may be able to help with that, actually. George, if you would,” Fred started, nodding to his twin who straightened his shoulders and puffed his chest out over so slightly.

“Thank you, Fred. As you know, we have a property for Weasley Wizard Wheezes secured and we’ll be living in the flat above where the shop will be,” everyone at the table, including yourself, stared at the twins in confusion, not quite sure where they were going with their little pitch until Fred took over again.

“And that flat has three bedrooms,” he said, a smirk growing on his thin lips.

George spoke again, “Which means there’s one for me and one for Fred.”

“Which means there’s one spare,” Fred grinned wickedly.

Tonks let out an impressed laugh once the penny finally dropped, “We apparate her in and nobody would ever know a thing. Nobody other than those of us in the room know that Y/n is a friend of the Weasley’s, plus us visiting the joke shop wouldn’t raise any suspicion. I have to give it to them, it’s a great idea,”

“And one of the two of us will always be within shouting distance if anything happens,” George added, somewhat pleadingly.

Sirius looked across the table at you, “Y/n, it’s up to you. Whatever you decide will be final, we won’t interfere,” he promised sincerely. It was an easy decision, but still, it weighed heavily on your chest. In all honesty, you weren’t worried about your location, staying with the twins would surely be a light and fun time amidst all the doom and gloom. Your worry was that you would, once again, be handing over your control. Sirius dressed it up as though it was your choice, but you knew that this was probably their best option and in reality you really had no other choice than to move in with Fred and George.

“Sounds good to me,” you whispered halfheartedly, eyes dropping to stare at your lap as your teeth pulled anxiously at the skin of your lips.

“So it’s settled then,” Remus said, “Y/n will go with Fred and George tonight.”

Abruptly, you pushed your chair away from the table and stood up. Sparing nobody a glance, you left the room as quickly as you possibly could, before the lump in your throat could choke you or the tears that pooled in your eyes spilled like water through a broken dam. George made a move to rise from his seat only for Remus to stop him by placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Give her a moment.”

You found yourself locked in the second story bathroom, sitting in the bath. Your legs hung out over the side of the tub while your head was tilted back against the black tiled wall. As hard as you tried to prevent them, tears were streaming down the expense of your cheeks, neck and beneath the neckline of your shirt. The minutes ticked by yet your chest continued to rise and fall rapidly due to the sobs that shook it, your breath uneven. Visions of brutal torture were bad enough when you were in your own home, in your own warm bed, with your parents just a room away and ready to make you a hot cup of tea after you woke up screaming. Now, the visions would without a doubt continue to plague you, unlike before though, you wouldn’t be waking up in a familiar setting, nor would you fall asleep in the comfort of your own mattress, when you woke up screaming so loud that your throat grew raw, your comfort would rely on two seventeen year old boys who seldom took things seriously. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, no, you trusted them with your life- you are trusting them with your life, it’s just that there was already a lot going on in your mind at the moment, moving in with your crush and his identical twin brother isn’t exactly your idea of a nerve killer.

A knock against the bathroom door pulled you from your thoughts. You rushed to wipe your tears with your sleeves, sniffling, “Come in,” you choked out. Cursing your voice for breaking when you spoke.

Remus’ head poked through the door, his body following soon after. Even in an atmosphere as dense as this one, a sense of gentle calm always followed Remus wherever he went. Clumsily, the werewolf slid into the bath beside you with a low “oof” sound, mimicking your position with his much longer legs dangling closer to the wooden floor than your own.

“CeCe has gone to collect your things for you and get Harry, then, I believe, perform the spell,” he eyed you cautiously, hyper aware of your glassy eyes and puffy face. When your eyes widened and you whipped your face towards him, his stomach twisted into knots, he hated seeing you like this. He could sympathise with your feelings. When James and Lily were killed, and Sirius went to Azkaban and even when Peter was presumed dead, Remus had been left with a vicious frustration fuelled by his belief that he was utterly powerless in his own life. He could see in your eyes that that same notion was starting to creep up on you too.

“Already?” You gasped out, pulse rising again, a slight panic setting in. “It won’t hurt them will it? The spell?” You fretted, looking pleadingly to the man beside you.

He shook his head, tenderly taking your hand and placing it against his clothed chest, his beating heart present against the palm of your shaking hand. “I promise you that they won’t feel a thing. They will go on living an exciting life, travelling, seeing the world safely while you’re away. When this is all over we’ll place their memories of you back in their minds and it will be as though you were never gone.” Your teeth found the inside of your cheek again, gnawing relentlessly at the skin as you failed miserably to hold back a fresh set of tears. Remus squeezed the hand he held against his chest. “Let it out, Y/n. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered, heart sinking lower when your bottom lip quivered and you let a rasped sob leave your body. With a deep sigh, Remus used the hand he was already holding as leverage to pull you into him, wasting no time he enveloped you in his arms, holding you securely as you cried against his chest. Admittedly, it felt good to let it out, Remus’ hand rubbed soothing circles against your heaving back and eventually, you didn’t know how long it had been, you calmed down, your tear ducts all dried out.

Remus held you in his arms for a while longer, even though you’d stopped crying, he could feel your body as it continued to shake. “I can’t promise you it will all be okay, but I can assure you that myself and Sirius, and everyone else for that matter, will be there for you at the drop of a hat; whatever you need,” he spoke against your hair.

“Whatever I need?” You echoed, the pit in your stomach ever growing.

“Of course,” he confirmed.

Remus startled slightly when you suddenly tore yourself away from him. As best you could in your awkward position, you turned to face him and grabbed his hands with as much urgency as he had done with yours. “I need you to do something for me,” Remus furrowed his brows in confusion, but nodded his head anyway.

“If anything happens to me… Don’t make them remember,” you instructed, maybe the request would’ve seemed radical if you had said it to anyone else, but you knew that Remus had experienced losses like no one else you knew, perhaps Harry came close but even his shortcomings couldn’t compare to Remus’. “It’d only cause them pain. If I die and they’re happily living none the wiser, leave them be, please,” the man let out a heavy sigh and took a moment to take you in. Your eyes were hard yet pleading, they left him no room to negotiate and he understood perfectly where you were coming from.

“Alright,” he agreed before raising his eyebrow and readjusting himself to get a better look at you, “However you should know; no matter what may come of this war, none of us will forget about you. In such a short time you’ve given us so much… you gave Harry his first friendship, a friendship that he cherishes more than anything in the world, I might add. You saved Sirius from death, my fiancé and Harry’s godfather. Mentoring you has given Cecillia a new lease of life and Molly Weasley one more child to knit jumpers for at Christmas,” he took a brief pause then went on, “For the sake of saving time I won’t even begin to tell you what you mean to the twins. My point is;” there was a melancholic type of smile on his face when he paused again, as if he was imagining what it would be like to remember you fondly if you did in fact die for the cause, “What you’re asking is incredibly selfless. And while your mother and father may not remember how wonderful you are, we all will.” Remus chuckled lowly when you shuffled your way back into his arms, squeezing his middle tightly. He slung his arm around your shoulders and delicately pressed his lips to the top of your head. You held so much love in your heart for the man who was currently cradling you in his arms. You debated telling him, you weren’t sure if it was entirely appropriate but after the speech he’d just given you couldn’t have cared less, “Remus?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” you murmured, looking up at him innocently.

He offered you a toothy smile and breathed out a soft laugh, “I love you too.” With a content nod, you rested your head back against his chest, enjoying his soothing heartbeats against your ear. A melodic hum rumbled against your cheek, a quiet giggle left your mouth when you recognised the melody to the song he was humming. The tune of “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac floated through the bathroom bringing a genuine smile to your lips. The werewolf’s humming was interrupted by another knock against the bathroom door, whoever was knocking didn’t wait for a response before entering the room. Sirius stepped in and quietly shut the door behind him. He didn’t question you and Remus' position in the bath but simply slid into the tub on the other side of you, sandwiching you between himself and Remus. The black haired man let out a heavy sigh and leaned his head back against the tiles.

“The mother hens downstairs are worrying up a storm,” he said in exasperation, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tonks so riled up about someone’s safety. I tasked Molly with making you some hot chocolate to keep her occupied”

“Maybe I should go back down…” you muttered halfheartedly, begrudgingly peeling yourself away from Remus’ warm body.

Sirius gave you an apologetic look, “I held them off for as long as I could.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, bumping your shoulder to his, making him chuckle. After pulling yourself out of the bath, rather clumsily, you took a second to check yourself over in the mirror.

“You’re glowing, darling,” Sirius all but sang from behind you and you couldn’t stop the slight snort that escaped you.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“If you don’t believe me go on downstairs and ask George what he thinks,” Sirius teased, wiggling his eyebrows and receiving a light shove from his fiancé who couldn’t hide his grin.

“Leave her alone, love,” he chastised weakly, “You look perfectly fine, Y/n. Go downstairs and get something to drink, you need to rehydrate.” A bittersweet smile broke out on your lips, his fatherly tone simultaneously soothed you and left you yearning for what you were in the process of losing. Trying not to dwell on the sad fact, you left the bathroom and slowly descended the stairs.

As you assumed, the second you stepped back into the kitchen, Molly began to fret over you as if her life depended on it. Sipping on the hot chocolate she’d given you, you were reminded of how desperately tired you were. All the crying hadn’t helped ease the heaviness in your eyes either. Every bone in your body felt heavy for that matter, you were struggling to even hold your head up.

“You can lean against my shoulder if you’d like,” George’s voice broke you from your hazed state, you’d completely forgotten he was sitting beside you despite his leg that was pressed against yours beneath the table. You gave him a sleepy but grateful smile, as subtly as you could you scooched closer to the ginger and slotted yourself against his side, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. “Will you keep me awake until Harry and Cecillia get here?” You requested in a slurred murmur, your eyes fluttering between open and shut.

“Of course,” was all he said, he looked down at you adoringly, smiling like an idiot when you nuzzled into his shoulder, your nose rubbing against his neck. Try as he might, George couldn’t pull his eyes away from your drowsy face. “What do you propose we do?”

You shrugged your shoulders lightly, “Just talk.”

“How would you like your new room decorated?” He asked quietly, his head tilted down while he spoke to you, so you could hear him and so he wouldn’t ruin the lulled bubble you’d managed to obtain between you by talking too loudly. A sweet smile grew on your face, a smile that all but knocked all the breath out of George’s lungs when you angled your head to make eye contact.

“Can I have a double bed?” George snorted at your question and shook his head no.

“Nothing smaller than a king. What else?”

You pretended to ponder for a moment, “Can we paint it?” The ginger nodded, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“If you want to,” he started, almost sounding nervous, “We could paint it together?” Even in your sleep deprived state you hadn’t missed the vulnerability in his voice, it was the same vulnerability that you’d noticed when he’d asked you to go get a butterbeer with him a couple of months ago.

“I’d love that,” you told him, your answer causing his lips to twist into a pleased smile, “How do you feel about the colour green?”

Immediately, his smile dropped and he let out a disgusted scoff, “Green is a Slytherin colour.”

“You keep forgetting that I don’t get the whole house sorty thing,” you reminded him, not happy with his reasoning for hating your favourite colour. “Besides, I love green, it’s my favourite colour.” You told him truthfully. Not content with his disgruntled facial expression you began to defend your preference, “A lot of beautiful things are green; you’ve got grass, trees, emeralds- did you know that emeralds are really useful for enhancing psychic abilities? It also evokes clarity of thought,” you rambled, willing yourself to be quiet when you registered George’s fond expression.

The look of endearment aimed at you brought butterflies to life in your stomach, effectively waking you up somewhat.

“Do you have any emerald?” He asked, you assumed he was only feigning interest, you didn’t know that he could’ve listened to you go on and on about anything and everything for the rest of his life.

“No, not yet. I should probably get some though.” You said through a yawn. Your breath against his neck made him giggle, it was pure and unsuspecting but you took note of it. Everything about George Weasley felt like sunshine to you, his laugh filled your chest with warmth whenever you heard it, his eyes found yours like a lighthouse, guiding your lost mind back to the present each time your gazes connected. His voice, like his laugh, warmed you up when you were cold, giving you a reason to stay awake when you’d rather just slip away. In conjunction with the sun, even if you couldn’t physically see him, you never doubted that he was always there. As well as all of that, like your favourite tarot card; The Sun, he signified good things, hope that hard times will end with you on top, contentment and happiness. While your thoughts consisted of George’s similarities to the sun, his were consumed with the, in his mind, overwhelmingly cheesily romantic notion that you were the moon and the stars, he would’ve cringed if he didn’t wholeheartedly believe it. Everything that made the night sky magnificent was reflected in you. Like the stars, you were mysterious and captivating. Nothing seemed to compare to your glow or beauty, if you were to ask him what he preferred; you or the night sky on a clear night, he’d happily ignore a blank, starless sky in favour of simply staring at you as you went on tangent after tangent about crystals or tarot cards.

The pair of you were pulled from your musings when Harry rushed through the kitchen door looking unmistakably heartbroken, ever the empath when it came to his best friend, Harry’s heart sank the moment he laid eyes on your form, limp against George’s side. The second you saw him you all but ripped yourself from George’s side and the older redhead felt a surge of irrational jealousy begin to build in his chest at how fast you left his hold in favour of the chosen one. He knew it was ridiculous, he’d heard the way each of you respectively talked about each other, at this point you were practically siblings. But he supposed it was rational to be jealous when you liked someone the way he liked you.

Quickly, you crossed the room to Harry who had his arms already outstretched. He knew you were emotionally exhausted when you didn’t bear hug him. You meekly slid your arms beneath his open zip-up hoodie, tucked your head beneath his chin and didn’t say a word. “I shouldn’t bother asking if you’re okay then,” Harry muttered to himself, leaning his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his lanky arms around your frame.

“Did Cecillia remember to bring Astra?” You asked, it was all you wanted to know about the night’s events.

“She’s in her cage in the living room, darling,” Cecilia said, walking into the room looking guilty.

“C’mon, let’s go have a chat,” Harry suggested, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs to his unofficial room. Once inside the room you sat down on the edge of the bed, the blue duvet softly creasing beneath you. Harry plopped himself down beside you and offered you a gesture that was always saved for when either of you felt the other was on the edge of something dangerous. Your hands rested against your lap and he deftly slid his pinky over yours, intertwining your two littlest fingers. It was such a familiar experience; he’d done it when your grandparents died, when you’d cried over failed exams that you worked hard for, and in turn, you did it for him when he’d felt as though he had no place in the world, when he’d open up about his parents and when Cedric died and the ministry dragged his name through the mud you’d find your pinky tangled with his almost every night after he’d sneak over to your place after another nightmare or panic attack. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, “Not tonight. I don’t want to cry anymore,” you croaked out, looking straight ahead of you at the grey painted wall.

“I understand,” he said, sighing and dropping his head onto your shoulder, “Let’s talk about something else then.”

“Like what, Haz?”

Harry snorted out a chuckle, “Like the way George looked like he wanted to hex me when you left him to come to me,” he teased, a smug lilt to his voice.

“He wasn’t teasing me, perhaps I’ll go back to him,” you grumbled, ignoring Harry’s childish giggles.

“Yeah you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You smacked his arm lightly with your free hand, doing a bad job of containing giggles of your own. “Don’t worry, since he’s going to be your new roommate there will be plenty of time for “oh George I’m so sleepy, please hold me until I fall asleep”,” you let out a cackle at Harry’s terrible impression of your voice, laying your cheek against his wild hair.

“That is so not what was going on, Haz,” you defended with a tiny smile.

Harry let out an airy, disbelieving chuckle, “Then what was going on?”

“He just said I could lean on him until you and Cecillia arrived and we just started chatting about how I wanna decorate my room,” you explained truthfully and Harry nodded.

“Riveting,” he mumbled sarcastically. Despite his snarky comment, the boy removed his head from your shoulder and pulled you against his chest. “Jokes aside, I’m glad you’re staying with him, I know he’ll look after you for me,” you rolled your eyes at the sentiment.

“I don’t need to be looked after,” you reminded him, looking up at him with a chastising smile.

He rolled his eyes right back at you, jostling you slightly in his arms, “No. But you like to be.”

You threw your head back in laughter, “Yeah, I suppose I do.” You did. You quite like both doting on people and being doted on, you’d grown up in an affectionate family so it was no wonder really.

“It’s getting late. We should get you settled into your new home,” Harry announced, pulling himself and you up from the bed, “I wasn’t going to say anything but you look terrible. You need sleep.”

“Thank you, Harry. Just what every girl wants to hear before moving in with her crush,” you joked, gently hitting your hip against his.

The kitchen was quiet when you returned, it seemed everyone had grown tired from the dramatic events of the evening.

“Ready to go then?” Fred asked, his coat already on and a handful of your bags in his hands.

“As I’ll ever be I suppose.”

After saying goodbye to everyone you, Fred and George traveled to their apartment by floo, to your dismay. The apartment was bare as they’d only just moved in but you could see it had lots of potential for becoming a cozy home for the twins.

As your first night in your new residence began, your aching eyes and tired mind didn’t leave you with any time to dwell on current events, the second your head made contact with the pillow you were out like a light. A dreamless slumber welcomed you for a while until your peace was broken by the all too familiar nightmare.

The first thing you recognised was the burn coming from your wrists. Shackles adorned them and effectively held your hands high above your head, stretching them uncomfortably. Goosebumps painted the expanse of your arms and legs, due to the freezing temperature in the nondescript cellar. A feeling of hopelessness planted firmly in your chest, the feeling only hightening when the familiar echo of footsteps, heavy and loud, drifted from the corridor outside of your field of vision. You knew who was approaching, you’ve lived this before, and so, you held your lip between your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut. The face of the dark wizard who always brought about your intense suffering was, for the most part, completely fuzzy, unrecognisable, featureless and bone-chillingly terrifying. You’d learned over the last two weeks of having this vision that it was less harrowing if you closed your eyes.

“I’ll ask you once more,” The voice was distorted, like it was being heard through a weedy radio, ominously unplaceable, “Where is he?”

You held no control over your voice, as was the norm during visions, as you felt and heard yourself reply, “I’ll tell you once more; I’d sooner die then sell him to you.” You felt your teeth gritting and your jaw clenching while you spoke. Jaw only tightening when the pointed tip of the wizard’s wand stabbed unforgivingly against the column of your neck.

“And die you will, my dear. But not yet-“ your eyes sealed themselves shut and you did your best to shake yourself out of the vision before what you knew was coming took place, as usual, your attempts were fruitless, “-Crucio.” Just like that your body was consumed by pain, the likes of which you’d never imagined possible, until you couldn’t even register yourself screaming anymore.

You bolted upright, clutching at the sheets of your new bed. Laboured breaths left your mouth and you aimlessly gripped at your neck, where the wand had been pressed, and let the tears spill freely. Momentarily disoriented, you’d forgotten where you were. Deep, heavy bursts of air left your mouth as you hastily scurried out of bed and towards the door. Somewhat aimlessly, you gravitated to the door across the hall. A yellow hue seeped from under the frame into the otherwise dark hallway. Light flooded the hall once you managed to fumble the handle down and pull the door ajar, a discombobulated ginger greeting you with half lidded eyes, obviously having been dozing off before you disturbed his peace.

“Sorry,” you rasped once your peace of mind returned to you and you realised where you were. Despite knowing that you shouldn’t have been standing numbly in his doorway, your feet seemed to be rooted in place, you couldn’t have walked away if you wanted to.

“S’alright,” George called out to you softly, sitting up in his bed, his back against the headboard. “You can come in, you know.”

Shutting the door behind you, you nervously shuffled into the room, stopping when you reached the side of his bed. George’s eyes roamed your face and he took notice of your still somewhat panicked expression, he drew his covers to the side and patted the empty space by his side. Something that always intrigued you was people’s preferred side of the bed, some people gravitated towards the left while others were more biased towards the right, but George Weasley? He slept right in the middle. The twin slept with a huge number of pillows, to the point where it was almost laughable, many of which you could only guess he’d smuggled from the Burrow.

Far too wound up to save face, you slid into his bed and didn’t shy away when he guided you into his side and tucked you tenderly beneath his lean arm. His embrace offered a greatly appreciated warmth as the chill of the dank dungeon always lingered long after the vision itself was over.

“What’re you doing up so late?” You asked, your voice gravelly. As you spoke, George effortlessly shuffled your body and his down so that your backs were resting on the mattress and not the headboard. Your head found it’s home against George’s shoulder and your hair was being tentatively twirled between his fingers.

“It’s our first night actually sleeping here. I couldn’t get to sleep,” he explained, his voice low and laced with fatigue. “I’m not really used to having my own room. It’s strange not hearing Freddie snoring or breathing.”

“I get that,” you whispered, “it’s quite comforting knowing for certain that someone is there with you.”

George nodded then. His eyes were glued to your face and he hadn’t even registered his own thought process before his lips were pressing delicately against your forehead. Today had appeared to be the day for laying all your cards out on the table, yourself and George hadn’t danced around your feelings for each other half as much as you usually did when you’d be in each other’s presence. Neither of you had the energy anymore, besides, if today’s events proved anything it was that; things were getting seriously messy as the war built momentum and it was clear that time was something that could very well be running out.

“Yeah,” he regarded you carefully, a little grin growing on his lips, “It is.”

A comfortable silence overtook the room. George’s twirling of your hair never ceased, every now and then his fingers would ghost over your shoulder and you’d catch yourself smiling against the cotton of his shirt as your eyes grew tired enough that they were close to falling shut.

Just as you were working up the motivation to lift yourself up and trudge back to your own bed, George spoke, “You can sleep here if you want, with me,” there was that innocent vulnerability again. There was never an ulterior motive when it came to him, he did things purely for the sake of making others happy, if he felt he could make a difference he simply needed to. Especially when it came to you, he realised.

“You don’t mind?” You asked, daring to peek up at him.

“Course not. I could use some company anyway.” He reassured you, his lips returning to your forehead, only this time the action held far more intention. “You don’t snore do you, love?”

You snorted out a giggle, looking up at the ginger cheekily, mischief dripping from your little grin that forced George’s heart to stutter rather violently and he hoped you hadn’t noticed. “No. But I drool.”

George’s face contorted, his nose scrunching up adorably in disgust, “Do you really?”

“Suppose you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” You teased and he sighed deeply, his disgruntled expression melting into a soft, adoring smile.

“I should’ve expected this, I knew you couldn’t have been completely perfect,” he said, mockingly sorrowful.

You scoffed, pushing his chest lightly, “You’re doing a lot of sweet talking tonight, Mr. Weasley,” you told him and he shrugged innocently.

“Just wanted to see you smiling again, darling.”

“Yeah, well, you’re doing a good job,” you assured him, the bashful yet tired smile that stretched your lips as you gazed up at him proved that you meant what you’d just said. “I like it by the way, the sweet talking.”

At your words, a huge, shit eating smirk grew on the boy’s freckled face. He managed to rearrange your bodies so that you were still tucked under his arm but you were now facing each other at eye level. “I knew it,” he proclaimed cockily.

You raised a challenging eyebrow, biting back a smirk, “Oh did you?”

George nodded pridefully, “‘Course I did. You see, I’m a little bit psychic,” his words forced a booming laugh from your lips, your cheeks hurting from the smile he’d orchestrated.

You shook your head, smile never dulling as you let out a chastising whisper, “oh sod off.”

“I love your smile,” he said suddenly, his eyes widened in horror when he realised he’d uttered the words out loud. The world could’ve stopped in that moment and you wouldn’t have noticed, all you could take in was George’s face, his eyes searching yours for something.

Carefully, you slid from hand from his chest to his red, blushing face. You cupped his cheek gently, moving your thumb against his cheek bone, almost swooning where you lay when he nuzzled against your touch. Working up some Gryffindor courage, George mimicked your movement, removing his arm from around your shoulder and bringing his palm to rest against the curve of your jaw.

As you stared at each other, you weighed up the pros and cons of telling him that you were completely head over heels for him. Your decision, apparently taking far too long, was made for you when George tugged you impossibly closer to him.

“I wasn’t going to tell you… you’ve had so much going on I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he said, brown eyes boring into your soul.

“Tell me what?”

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for every possible outcome that may spring once the words on the tip of his tongue are spoken aloud, “That I love you.”

#george weasley x reader #harry potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders x reader #fred weasly x reader

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fific7 · 3 years ago

Text

Evil Twins - Part 1

Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

New York City

Billy Russo awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed and grabbing for his Glock. What the hell? Thunder was rumbling loudly overhead and he sighed, putting the gun back under his pillow and laying his head back down. It was probably the bright flash of the lightning followed by the beginning of the thunderclap that had awakened him.

He was just closing his eyes again when he spotted something, only vaguely visible in the dim light from outside, in the corner of his room. It was…. swirling?

Grabbing his gun again, he sat up and pointed the Glock at the corner. It was getting bigger. “You’ve got two seconds to show yourself before I blow your fucking head off,” he announced, calmly.

He squinted a bit to get a better look but it didn’t make much difference. What the fuck was it?! Smoke? He decided he had no choice and leant over, switching on the wall-mounted bedside light.

The… smoke cloud?… was still increasing, becoming bigger and blacker with every second. Then he saw the vaguest silhouette of a tall figure within it, moving towards him. He leapt out of bed, on the far side of it so it was between him and whatever the fuck this was.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Aleksander Morozova - or General Kirigan, the Darkling, the Black Heretic, the Starless Saint, whichever of his many names he decided to call himself at any given point in time - could see a tall figure brandishing some kind of strange gun at him as he began to emerge from the swirling shadows.

Following certain unfortunate incidents - including a huge and furious argument with his darling mother - he’d decided it would be politic to get out of Ravka for a while, much as he didn’t really want to. But this wasn’t where he should’ve ended up. What was this place?

He emerged completely from the shadows and immediately felt something bounce off his kefta. He heard a ‘ding’ and looked down at the wooden floor at his feet. A bullet.

Looking quickly back up, he saw that the man opposite him was glaring at him, eyes wide and unbelieving, gun still pointing at him. He also realised that looking at this man was like looking in a mirror.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was dumbfounded. He’d just shot the fucker! And the bullet had bounced off him. Fuck. He threw the gun down onto the bed and slid his hand under his other pillow, pulling out his Ka-Bar. No way he’d get past that.

He took a moment to have a good look at the dude opposite him.

Dressed in riding boots and some kinda long black tunic thing, with a black fur-collared full-length cape over it. What a freak! Was he a goth or something? But then he realised something even freakier…. this guy looked exactly like him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The two of them were still contemplating each other, when finally Billy spoke. “Who are you? And what are you?”

Aleksander laughed. “Usually it’s me asking those questions.” Billy huffed, “You’re in my fuckin’ apartment, so just answer them!” He saw the guy draw himself up, and he said, “I am Aleksander Morozova, also known as General Kirigan, commander of the Second Army of the Grisha.”

“Means fuck all to me,” grunted Billy. “One name not enough for you? And why do you look like me? Are you some kinda shapeshifter or somethin’?”

“I have many names because I am centuries old. And I don’t know what a… shapeshifter?…is,” said the other, “…but I am the Shadow Summoner. And who are you? Where is this?” he waved a hand round at the apartment.

Billy scoffed, “Centuries old?!! Oh fuck off. You’re the same age as me by the looks of ya! I’m Billy Russo, ex-US Marine Lieutenant and now CEO of Anvil. That’s a security company, mainly staffed by ex-military vets. And this….” he also waved his hand around, “…is my penthouse apartment in New York City.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I have never heard of that place.”

Billy eye-rolled, “How can you not have heard of New York?!” he asked, incredulously. “And what the fuck is a Shadow Summoner?”

“It’s becoming obvious we are from two different worlds. I seem to have been diverted from my intended course, I don’t know why,” shrugged Aleksander. “Well maybe it’s time you took off to wherever it is you were headed for in the first place,” said Billy.

“It seems that I have been brought here for some specific reason,” replied Aleksander, “and it also seems I cannot leave for the moment, I have already tried.” He waved both hands around, firstly extending and then curling up his fingers, watching them closely as he did but it was clear that nothing at all was happening. “You see? Nothing. It is worrying to me. My shadows are no longer obeying my commands at present.”

Billy sighed and perched on the edge of his bed, “Great! Just fuckin’ great! This is just…! So when can you leave?” The other man spread out his arms, “I have no idea.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

Way across the Atlantic, you were already hard at work in your little bookstore in Appledore, Devon. You had a snug apartment above the store and had filled it with lots of your favourite things. It was a cute little coastal town and you loved living there. The community was small and friendly especially in the winter months, only increasing in summer with all the tourists who came to stay. As long as you made a decent living during the holiday season - which you normally did - then winter was a much calmer, chilled time of year.

You added a final book to the new display in the centre of your store and stepped back to take in how it was looking. Yeah, not bad if you did say so yourself. It was comprised of a fantasy trilogy for young adults about some ancient guy who could summon up shadows, and was a bit of a villain from what you could tell from the story synopsis on the book covers.

Not your cup of tea, to be honest. Generally speaking, all types of action stories were more your thing - something with a bit of ‘va-va-voom’. In fact, you were looking forward to tonight when you’d decided you were going to sit down with a nice tub of ice cream and rewatch one of your favourite series. The one with a relentless avenging ex-Marine whose family had been killed and his psycho ex-Marines buddy. Who happened to be rather hot to your mind.

You sighed a little, heading back behind the counter. That was the only thing about Appledore. It was a lovely place, but there was a distinct lack of hot guys.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Billy and Aleksander were sitting on separate sofas in Billy’s living area, eyeing each other warily. Aleksander had been trying to explain to Billy all about his world, the Grisha, the Fold, volcras, Ravka, the Sun Summoner, sand skiffs - as much as he could.

It had blown Billy’s mind, to be honest. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In turn, he’d explained all about his military career and the shitshow which had eventually developed once he’d come back to New York. Aleksander looked as equally confused as Billy.

Billy sighed, “I mean, what the hell are you gonna do? You don’t belong here. I need to go to work in a couple of hours. I’m not leaving you here so I’d need to take you to Anvil with me, and you sure as hell can’t go out looking like that.”

Aleksander looked down at his kefta which he’d unbuttoned. His cape was draped over the back of the sofa. “What is wrong with the way I look?” he huffed. “S’pose I could always say you were going to a Comic Con,” muttered Billy. “A what?” “A Comic Con. it’s where fans of fantasy comics go to have fun. They dress up as their favourite characters sometimes. I could always say it was cosplay.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’d look out of place in my uniform? All the Grisha wear these,” he pointed at his kefta. “Not what we wear here,” said Billy, “…and I still don’t get why you look so much like me.”

“I have no idea!” said Aleksander, through gritted teeth, “I told you that already!” “Alright, alright! Calm down.” “I AM CALM!!!” roared the other man.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Slightly later that morning, Billy was showered, suited and booted and ready for work. He’d persuaded his uninvited visitor to put on a borrowed leather jacket of Billy’s over his kefta as Aleksander refused to take it off. He’d also made him put on a pair of black trainers, which he’d done very reluctantly. These two items had instantly transformed the freaky-looking guy into someone at least a little more acceptable to your average New Yorker.

Aleksander was wriggling around in the jacket, “It’s not very comfortable.” Billy heaved yet another large sigh - he felt like this was all he’d been doing this morning - “Look, just wear it! You’ll get used to it.” He noticed the other guy sniffing at the collar of the jacket, then his eyes lifted to Billy’s, “You wear perfume?!” “Men’s cologne,” snapped Billy, “or aftershave, as it’s also known because - guess what! - you use it after you’ve shaved!”

His fingers stroking his chin, Aleksander nodded, “Okay, that I understand. We do not use this perfume in Ravka.” “Cologne!” yelled Billy. “Fine, cologne then. Why don’t you like it when I call it perfume? That’s what it is, after all.” “Women wear perfume. Men wear cologne. Okay? Now c’mon, I’m gonna be late.”

Billy strode over to his front door and tried to open it. The handle wouldn’t budge. He shook it, rattled it, pulled the door handle back and forward, exerting more and more strength but nothing worked. He stood back from the door. “It won’t open,” he said, rather unnecessarily. He looked at Aleksander, “Is this you? Or something to do with you?” “No!” he protested, “I have nothing to do with this.”

A somewhat raspy female voice spoke from behind them, “No, but I do.”

The two men swung round, both gaping as they saw that there were what could only be described as rippling waves distorting the whole interior of Billy’s flat. The light had also diminished quite drastically and then they both saw a woman’s head and shoulders start to become defined and then fully visible in amongst the ripples. She seemed to float there at head height but she obviously wasn’t physically present.

“Mother!” exclaimed Aleksander.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

You snuggled down amongst the soft cushions on your sofa, tub of ice cream and spoon in hand and scrolled to the series you were looking for. It was quite gory in places but you loved it - except for the bit right at the end where the hot dude got killed. That made you sad although you couldn’t deny he definitely had psychopathic tendencies.

As you were looking for the one you wanted to watch, another series caught your eye in the ‘Suggested for You’ section. Hey, it must be based on that trilogy of books you had in the store right now. Maybe you’d give it a try after you’d finished your current one.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

“Mother?” echoed Billy, “….what’s going on here?!”

The woman’s head swivelled towards him then back to Aleksander. “My two boys, together again. How sweet.”

“What!?” said the two men in tandem. She gave a bitter laugh, “How I managed to produce two such problematic children, I’ll never know.” “What are you talking about, Baghra?” ground out Aleksander. Billy was just standing there, dumbfounded and looking between the two of them when suddenly her glare focussed in on him.

“Maxim.” Billy returned her stare, “I’m Billy!” he corrected her. She shook her head, “You will forever be Maxim to me. And as I’m your mother, do not argue with me. Now…. no doubt Aleksander has been making a great fuss about how he’s many centuries old, has he?” “He did mention it,” said Billy, begrudgingly. She nodded, “I thought he might have. Listen to me, both of you. You are twins, so obviously you were born within minutes of each other. To me.” The two men exchanged glances, before looking back at her. “It became obvious to me that Aleksander - from a relatively early age - was going to cause himself and everyone around him nothing but trouble and strife, so I took a radical step.” “What did you do, Baghra?” questioned Aleksander.

“If you’d have patience, I’m trying to tell you!” she snapped, before continuing, “I got one of the few Heartrenders in existence at that time to take Maxim out of Ravka to a secret location. There, he placed him in long-term suspended animation. When you…” she pointed an accusatory finger at Aleksander, “….started all that nonsense with the Sun Summoner and hunting for the stag, I travelled with another Heartrender to where Maxim was, and brought him out of his enforced hibernation. I had to protect him as there was no guarantee you’d survive, Aleksander.” She stared at his scowling face and carried on speaking.

“He had no memories remaining of his past life and so I took him into the forest, there is a portal there which only I know of. There used to be more knew about it but I am the only one left now. Other universes can be reached through it. And I decided to send Maxim to another one. This one. It was only three months ago in Ravkan time, but in this universe more than thirty years have passed.”

“Wait… what?!” Billy was pissed. “You… you just threw me into some portal and walked away? Not knowing where I would end up?” “I had to save one of my sons!” she spat out, “…the other one had lost his mind and was on a collision course with disaster!” Billy put his head in his hands, before looking up again and raging at her, “I was abandoned for a second time by the woman I thought was my mother in this universe! She was a drug user, a total mess! I was placed in an orphanage… it was terrible!” He saw a remorseful look pass over her face for a split second, “I am sorry, Maxim! But I had no choice. Then I had to step in again when he…” pointing again at Aleksander, “….was nearly killed by volcras. I managed to get him to the portal before he fully regained consciousness. He thinks it was his idea to leave Ravka after we had an argument, but I managed to plant that idea in his mind before I pushed him into the portal.”

Billy and Aleksander both snorted in unison, then glanced at each other again. Billy looked back at her, “You’re sorry? That doesn’t quite cover it. I went to war! And now I’m in a very bad situation due to things which went down in Afghanistan during that war.” Aleksander chipped in, “And how dare you make a decision like sending me to another universe without consulting me first?”

The sigh Baghra gave echoed round the apartment. “You are a pair of ungrateful whelps! And now it sounds like I have to get you of trouble too!” She pointed at Billy this time. “I firstly had to find some very old documents about it, but I managed to find out how to enter the limbo section of the portal, which this is, because I wished to speak to both of you before I sent you on your next journey.” She lifted her hands and swirled them around in a kind of ritualistic fashion, “Be on your way to the next universe!” she chanted, and suddenly the rippling got even more pronounced.

Billy and Aleksander began feeling overwhelmingly dizzy, feeling as if they were falling but in fact realised they seemed to be rushing through time and space.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

It was Saturday tomorrow so because you could sleep in a bit as you opened later, you finished the first series (but not the second one - it always upset you) of the one you’d originally been watching, and had then moved on to the one based on the trilogy.

You peered more closely at your TV screen - yeah! you were right, the hot bad guy looked so similar to the hot bad dude in the other series they could be twins! Was it the same actor? You’d need to check on the credits but it must be, surely.

No reflection on the series you were watching, but having finished your ice cream you dozed off during episode 6.

You woke up - you had no idea how much later - and as you sat up slightly, realised that you were feeling very strange. Standing up from the sofa, you were so dizzy that you collapsed back down onto it. You tried not to panic, but you’d no clue as to why you felt so unwell all of a sudden.

Then you noticed that your apartment appeared to be rippling. Rippling??!! What the…. The rippling waves began to die down a little and you were suddenly aware of two looming figures standing over you. Their outlines and features slowly became more defined, more solid, and eventually you realised you were looking up at both the hot bad dudes from the TV.

Of course you were.

Okay, your reeling mind said to you, maybe the celestial Powers That Be had been listening when you were complaining about the lack of hot guys in your town.

They were both looking down at you, clear interest in their eyes. Maybe because you were wearing silky shorts with matching tank T. Your sleepwear didn’t leave too much to the imagination.

So you stared at them, and they stared right back at you, although again you were acutely aware of two sets of very dark eyes roaming all over your body.

You wondered if someone had spiked your ice cream.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #the darkling #the darkling x reader #shadow and bone #general kirigan #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling imagine #the darkling fanfic

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Guilty As Charged

Guilty As Charged: Bucky Barnes One Shot

Summary: Defence Attorney James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the absolute bane of your life…

Pairing: Lawyer AU Bucky Barnes x Reader (Frenemies!)

Warnings: Bad language words.

Word Count- Under 2k

A/N: This was originally posted on my old blog ages ago, but I’ve just given it a little polish and thought, seeing as I’m on the Bucky Train at the moment, I’d bring it back. Also, my knowledge on US Criminal Law is sketchy at best, so humour me…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist // Main Masterlist

*******

In God We Trust, the words set about the Judge’s podium were fixed in your vision, motes of dust moving freely in the rays of sunlight which were streaming through the large, ornate windows of the court room and you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, concentrating on expelling the nerves you were feeling with the air that left your mouth and lungs.

No matter how many times you were in this position, the reading of the verdict still got to you. Your gaze turned to the jury, as the judge did the same, that all important question ringing across the room, the air stiflingly tense.

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, do you find the defendant or not guilty"

“Not guilty.”

Fuck.

Cheers from the defendants family drowned out your loud groan as you rubbed at your temple. Looking over at your colleague, Sam, you shook your head in utter disbelief.

The judge continued through the remaining charges, second-degree murder and voluntary manslaughter, and your despair grew as the same verdict was returned for each.

You’d lost. And it stung, not merely because of your near perfect conviction rate, but for the family of the victim you were one-hundred percent convinced the accused.

"Y/N this wasn't your fault.” Sam stated in a low voice but you simply sighed again and shrugged.

"I was sure they'd see through his lies,” you glanced over to your right where the defence team, headed up by James Buchanan Barnes of Barnes and Rogers Law firm were shaking hand with each other and their defendant. Barnes' face was arranged in the usual smug look that you always had the urge to slap right off it. His partner, Steve, glanced over at you and gave you a genuine, sympathetic smile.

He’s always the most courteous out of the two, the one you actually didn’t mind dealing with when it came to cases.

"He fucking did it Y/N," Sam's voice was almost a growl, "I know he did."

"Well in the eyes of the law he didn’t." You stated, standing up.

The commotion continued behind you, as the defendant was told he was free to go. Making sure to keep your head down, you hastily shuffled your papers back into their respective files and packed your briefcase up. Picking up your jacket, you shrugged it on, smoothing down pencil skirt before you head to leave the courtroom before Barnes can pipe up with his usual smart ass quips. But you're not quite fast enough. "Commiserations Miss Y/LN, can't win em all." The familiar Brooklyn drawl hit your ears.

"Buck," Steve sighed "c'mon pal..."

You grit your teeth. You know you shouldn't rise to it, but you just can’t help it. The man is an utter jack ass in the courtroom. Spinning to face him, you shot him your best contemptuous glare, the one you always reserve for those people you really cannot stand, and looked at him like he was something you'd just trodden in.

"You know Barnes, there is such a thing as being gracious in victory as well as defeat." "Defeat?” He asked, looking at Steve with a puzzled expression on his face, “no, not sure what that is." "Eat shit.” You mumbled before turning to Sam who was stood behind you, watching the exchange. You nod to him and the two of you continued up the aisle towards the exit. The victim's family were congregated outside and all at once the start barraging you with questions.

"How did that happen?"

"You said it was a cert he would go down!”

"What about a private prosecution?”

You sighed and turn to look at them, you were exhausted. "I'm sorry.” You shook your head. “That new evidence that his attorney submitted, it was just threw too much of a doubt into the juries mind..." you held your hand up to gently silence them. “If you're serious about a private prosecution then I can meet you next week to discuss and put you in touch with a few people but I’m sorry, as far as the State’s involvement goes…I can’t do anymore."

Escaping as quickly as you could, you and Sam headed back to your office. After a short meeting with your boss, the District Attorney, who was as pissed as you were that the prosecution had failed, you emerged feeling twice as tired and battered as you had when you’d left the courtroom.

As Sam stated, there was only one thing left you could do. Drink alcohol. A lot of alcohol.

It was a short walk to your preferred bar, having decided to abandon your car and collect it in the morning. You were going to get drunk. Really drunk. "Hey Y/N, hey Sam." Clint, the bar tender greeted you. “I hear it wasn't a great day.” You looked up and saw he was pointing to the TV behind the bar. It was on a news channel, focussing on a report from earlier that afternoon which wasn’t surprising. The case had thrown up huge public interest ever since the body of the teenage girl has been found in the alleyway in Queens. The defendant confessed but somehow, the new evidence submitted was an alleged recording that the defence had gotten their hands on as proof the confession was taken under duress. If you were being totally honest, you had to admit that it didn't sound great, the officer did seem to be leaning heavily on the defendant, but the other evidence was, no, IS overwhelming.

But all it needed was that little seed of doubt, which the defence sowed expertly, and the jury couldn't convict. And now, thanks to Barnes and Rogers, specifically Barnes, in your mind a dangerous killer was walking free. As you stared at the television, you saw Barnes on the screen with the defendant, all smiles and Steve at his side. Barnes greeted the press with a raised hand. "Clint turn it over man." Sam almost pleaded and Clint shot you both a sympathetic look, before he pointed the remote at and flicked the report over to a mundane, late afternoon game show. You ordered 2 beers, and then settled at the bar on one of the tall chairs, crossing your bare, heeled legs as you and Sam began to dissect the case. You couldn’t help it, you always did this, analyse where you went wrong or right.

The pair of you got that enthralled in your discussions, that before you know it, it was an hour lager and you're now four beers deep... and Sam was fielding an angry phone call from his wife, Natasha. "I gotta go, boss." He sighed, apologetically, “it’s my little girl’s dance recital at six and if I miss this one, Nat’s gonna hang me out to dry!” You waved his explanation off. “Its fine, Sam. Oh, and take the morning tomorrow. That case has had us working all hours and I don’t intend on being there till lunch. Clint, gimme a bourbon please?" "Don't let Barnes get to you.” Sam sighed. “You know what he is like" "Smug, arrogant and annoyingly self-righteous.” You nodded. “Yup, I got it.” Sam smiled and dropped a friendly kiss to your cheek. "See you later." Clint slid the glass of bourbon over to you and you smiled before pulling out your phone to check a few emails and your social media. You were just reading through an article about a Billionaire in Manhattan who had designed some kind of metal suit that allowed him to fly (because that's gonna end well), when a familiar voice broke your concentration. "Can I buy you a drink?" You rolled your eyes and looked up at Bucky Barnes as he leaned on the bar, still in his suit, although he had dispensed of his black and white tie, and opened his top button. This was another thing you hated about him. He is utterly gorgeous. Like GQ cover gorgeous, especially in his sharp suits and silk ties.

And he fucking knows it, too. "Depends." You shrugged, throwing back the remainder of your bourbon. "Does it come with a side helping of irritating smugness?" He chuckled. "I'm off duty, Doll so no."

"In that case I'll have another Monkey Shoulder." You slid the empty glass back to Clint. "Take it you're not driving home?" Barnes asked, his azure eyes running over your bare legs. "Well if I do and I get caught, I'm sure you can get me off any charges.” You replied sharply, shooting him a look that made it clear you caught him eyeing you up. And it isn't the first time either. That's another reason you clash so much in the courtroom. Sexual tension. Fucking jerk. He barked out a laugh "You're really not happy with me are you?" "Not particularly." You shook your head, thanking Clint as he pushed the now full glass back to you, with a small wink. It's a double, you noticed. That should set Barnes back a bit. Bucky reached for his beer and after a pull he looked directly at you. "Come work for me." He said and you groaned.

Not this again. "I'm a prosecutor." You rolled your eyes. "Not a defence attorney. I told you that last time you asked. And the time before, and the time before that." "I'm nothing if not persistent." He winked, turning in his stool so he was facing you. "Besides, I can teach you the ways of the dark side." "You’d love that wouldn't you?" You snort. "Oh, Sweetheart you have no idea." He leaned forward slightly, his elbow on the bar and this time he is blatantly staring at the flash of skin that was showing above the buttons on your blouse. "My face is up here, ass hole." With a smirk he raised his deep, blue eyes and they locked onto yours. Despite yourself, you feel your breath hitch slightly. Dammed him and his sex appeal. "Why are you always this insufferable?" You eventually tore your gaze away from his and picked up your drink, glancing up at the TV as an excuse not to look at him. "Ah come on Y/N, don’t be like that." He reached out to squeeze your hand which was resting on the back of the tall chair you were sat in. "We could make a great team..." You raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Professionally.” He added, his eyes not leaving yours as he took another large drink of his beer, and you pulled your hand away from under his. "I'd kill you within five minutes of us being in the same office." You glared at him as you took another sip from your drink. He chuckled and eyed you again, “to be fair I'm not sure Stevie would be able to function with a beautiful dame such as yourself in close proximity. He still flusters around any woman that isn’t his Peggy.” "That's because Steve is a happily married man." "So am I." He shot back. Ah yes, Mrs Barnes… "Your wife deserves a medal. She must have the patience of a fucking saint to put up with you." You said into your glass. "I have other hidden qualities which mean she's prepared to overlook my slightly less favourable personality traits." He quipped, and you looked back to see that lopsided grin on his face that flips your stomach. Behave Y/N. "They must be very hidden." You mused, and he let out another loud laugh. "You're killing me, Doll.” "Good." You drained your glass. The liquid burnt your throat and you could feel the effects of the alcohol from the last few hours as your brain started to hum. You looked at Barnes who was watching you, his eyes shining with all the cheekiness of a teenage boy and you know you need to leave before you do something stupid.

Like snogging his dumb, handsome face off. "I think it's time I got going." You said simply, standing up. Barnes gave a nod, draining his bottle. “Yeah I should be making tracks too. Wife to see to, you know how it is.” You stood and he did the same, and you realised he was holding up your jacket, ready for you to slide your arms into. Narrowing your eyes slightly at his sudden chivalry, you couldn’t help the small smile that flickered across your face as you turned and allowed him to help you into it. His hands dropped to your shoulders and he span you round gently and smiled with those perfect teeth, a smile that lit up his beautiful face, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Lead the way Mrs Barnes.” He instructed softly, dropping a tender kiss to your lips. "You know it's a good job I love you,” you smiled, sliding your arms up round his neck. "Yeah, I know." "Although right now I'm struggling to remember why." "Well, when we get home I'll just have to show you some of those hidden qualities I was talking about, see if they help jog your memory.” You bit your lip slightly at the dark flash of desire that flit across his eyes, and you leant up to brush your lips across his stubbled jawline. "Unanimous verdict,” your voice drops slightly as you pull back and he smirked again, “guilty as charged.” You tossed Clint a good bye, linked your hand into your husband’s and he walked you outside into the brisk wind, his arm pulling you close, his lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Yeah, James Buchanan Barnes might be an insufferable, arrogant ass hole in the courtroom, but outside it he's simply your Bucky.

#bucky barnes #buck barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #lawyer au

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separatist-apologist · 3 years ago

Note

I have an idea for a one shot, Elucien, Nessian, and Feysand cutest couple contest and Elucien wins but then Eris and Arina walk in and actually win 😂

Okay anon, I'm sorry I sat on this for so long but it took me a hot minute to figure out how to write this.

I think you wanted fluff? Anyway you get unhinged insanity. This is the mating game (like the newly wed game) and if ANYONE says I got any of these couples besides Elucien wrong, it's because this is my first time writing them in earnest.

This is SFW though there are impolite sexual references so exercise good judgement. References to HENrietta the chicken (no apologies).

“What is this, again?” Nesta groused, crossing one leg over the other.

“It’s the mating game,” Gwyn, ever cheerful, replied. Beside her, Azriel helped organize a stack of cards, offering them to Gwyn without a word. The red-haired priestess perched on a stool to survey the group of people sitting in Rhys and Feyre’s drawing room. Though the game ought to be fun on its own, there were bottles of liquor just out of reach on a nearby table surrounded by cups and snacks.

“Why doesn’t he have to play?” Rhysand demanded, jerking his head towards the spymaster. All heads turned to look at Gwyn and Az, the two newest mates in Rhysand’s inner circle.

“Because he doesn’t want people knowing his personal business,” Gwyn offered. Azriel’s cheeks flushed as Lucien, Rhysand, and Cassian all glanced anywhere but at the females across from them. Twin black, leather couches had been rearranged for the game, with males on one side and females on the other. Behind the males, a roaring fire kept the howling wind outside from leeching cold into the softly lit room.

“Can we start or—”

“Not so fast,” Eris Vanserra stated, bursting through the twin glass, French doors theatrically. Behind him Arina, bundled in a puffy red coat, rolled her eyes and shook out long, blonde hair.

“I invited them,” Elain murmured quickly before Cassian or Rhysand could protest. “Arina is my best friend.”

“Hurtful, baby sister,” Eris intoned, joining the other males across the room. Arina plopped between Nesta and Elain, squeezing her friend tight. Azriel offered Arina a large stack of white cards and a black marker while Gwyn offered the same to Eris. It was impossible not to notice how Azriel’s eyes avoided Eris despite how desperately Eris was clearly trying to provoke him.

“The rules of this are simple,” Gwyn, perhaps sensing a squabble brewing, began explaining the rules of the game. “I ask questions about your mate, and you answer. The team with the most right answers wins that knife in the corner, generously donated by my mate, not to be used on anyone in this room.” Her eyes slid to Eris as she said that last part. Behind Azriel sat a gleaming silver hunting knife with a black, leather wrapped hilt placed just beside a matching leather sheath.

“Males first,” Rhysand decided and though Gwyn rolled her eyes, she didn’t contradict him.

“Want to take bets on who wins?” Cassian whispered.

“Shush,” Feyre shot back.

“The first question: What would your mate liked you to have served them when you accepted the bond?” Gwyn asked. All four females immediately turned to their cards. Elain began scribbling immediately, her lips upturned in a smile that very much said her and Lucien had discussed this before. Arina, too, was writing though her shoulders shook with laughter.

Nesta frowned, looking over at a furiously scrawling Cassian. “Did I not give him exactly what he wanted?” She whispered.

“No cheating!” Feyre elbowed Nesta though she hadn’t written anything either.

“Ten seconds,” Azriel warned. Everyone turned back to their cards, the only sound the squeaking of markers on slippery paper.

“Time.”

“Okay, we’ll start with Feyre. What would your mate likedyou to have served them when you accepted the bond?” Gwyn asked, teal eyes twinkling.

Feyre glanced towards Rhys, who was grinning openly. Azriel narrowed his eyes.

“No mind sharing,” the spymaster warned the pair of them.

“We’re not,” Feyre replied earnestly though the glitter in Rhysand’s violet eyes told the room he had definitely tried. “I wrote exactly what I gave him.”

“Turn your card, Rhys!” Gwyn replied excitedly. Rhys’ grin only widened.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Nesta snapped when Rhys revealed Feyre herself.

Beside Rhys, Lucien began shaking with silent laughter.

“Nesta?”

“I wrote what Feyre wrote,” Nesta replied, turning a card that read a biscuit.

“Oh…babe…we are going to lose,” Cassian said sadly, turning a card that read A nice roast.

“Ungrateful, is what you are,” Nesta grumbled.

“Elain?” Gwyn asked hopefully.

“Lucien said he would have been fine with dirt,” Elain replied, her card written neatly to reflect exactly what she said. Lucien turned his own card excitedly to reveal the word dirt written in impossibly nice calligraphy.

“The bar is so low,” Gwyn mumbled. “Okay, Arina, give us what you’ve got.”

“Eris wanted an apple pie,” she replied, flipping her card with a wink. Eris grinned, revealing his own card that had a drawing of an apple pie, followed with a little arrow pointing to his description that read apple pie.

“We cannot lose to Vanserra’s,” Cassian told Nesta.

“Then do better,” she hissed.

“Next question,” Gwyn interrupted, her teal eyes bright with amusement. “What is your mate afraid of?”

Everyone collectively groaned as they wrote. “This feels like political subterfuge,” Eris grumbled.

“Like anyone cares about your fears,” Azriel mumbled as a reply.

The responses were only a little better. Feyre and Rhysand both guessed my mate dying as their response. Nesta wrote endless warwhile Cassian responded with nothing, causing a booming laugh to escape Azriel’s mouth. Elain and Lucien also wrote my mate dying, and Eris, grinning at Arina, clapped his hands when she wrote falling into a pit trap. He’d done another drawing of a stick figure falling into a hidden hole causing the room to burst into speculation as to whether it had happened or not. The twinkle in Arina’s eyes suggested it very much had.

“Next question. What was the first thing your mate thought when they saw you for the first time?” Gwyn’s enthusiasm was unmatched and Azriel scooted just a little closer to Gwyn, his own hazel eyes bright with affection.

“Don’t get this one wrong, darling,” Rhys told Feyre as he wrote.

“I just know you two are cheating somehow,” Cassian complained.

“If we were cheating, we wouldn’t be losing to the Vanserra brothers,” Feyre shot back. “No offense, Lucien.”

“Some offense taken,” Lucien joked.

“Turn over your cards,” Azriel demanded.

Feyre went first. “I wrote, my mate is a human.” Rhys groaned, flipping over a card that read, “most beautiful female I’d ever seen.”

“That’s what I thought!” Feyre replied, outraged. Rhys merely shrugged. “We were thinking the same thing.”

Nesta, smirking, turned her card over next. My mate is terrifying.

Cassian cackled, revealing a card that read Nesta scared me.

“I know that’s romantic but…wow, Cas,” Azriel teased. Cassian merely shrugged.

“I always knew my perfect female would terrify me.”

“Same,” Nesta agreed with a smile.

Elain flipped over her card which read, oh no.

“You two sure are romantic,” Gwyn joked when Lucien’s card said the same.

“How do we know they’re not cheating?” Rhys demanded; eyes narrowed. Lucien sighed, exasperated.

“Perhaps we spend more time talking than the rest of you,” he suggested. Rhys considered that.

“Maybe. But only because my mouth is occupied—”

“C’mon!” The room complained. Even Gwyn narrowed her eyes at the High Lord, who displayed not one ounce of shame. Arina went last.

“Eris thought about how to get me naked,” Arina replied, revealing her card. True to form, Eris had drawn a rather crude image that caused Lucien to take the card from his elder brother and rip it in half.

At the end of the first round both Lucien and Elain and Arina and Eris were winning, with Feyre and Rhys coming in second and Nesta and Cassian in last place. They were given some time to talk with one another while Gwyn flipped through her cards, but the males were only interested in a rare bottle of whiskey Rhysand had recently acquired.

“This is why we’re losing,” Nesta complained when Cassian did two shots consecutively with Lucien.

“Hardly,” Elain teased as Azriel chuckled in agreement. Cassian narrowed his eyes towards his brother and Azriel shrugged.

“I heard enough up at that house.”

“Okay, okay, let’s do round two so we can all drink,” Gwyn insisted, urging everyone back to their spots. Elain winked at Lucien as Eris called, “We can’t let Lucien and Elain win.”

“Hey!” Elain cried.

“Full offense, Elain,” Eris added, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger brother.

“First question,” Gwyn called over the chatter. “What is your mates perfect day?”

The males all immediately began scribbling responses while the females watched suspiciously. Feyre went first. “In my art studio.”

Rhys groaned as he flipped his card. “In my bed.”

“You had to know I wasn’t going to write that,” Feyre chided.

“Ah but you were thinking it,” Rhys crooned.

Cassian, too, flipped over a card revealing a wholly inappropriate answer. Nesta sighed as she flipped hers over.

“Seriously? With my girls eating cake?”Cassian asked with disbelief while Gwyn rose from her stool to high-five Nesta.

“Hell yes, Cass. You know I love you.”

“Do I?”

Lucien was quick to flip over his card. “In the garden.”

Elain beamed, her own card reflecting his answer.

“That’s a euphemism, by the way,” Lucien informed the group, his cheeks-tinged pink from the alcohol. Elain spluttered, clearly embarrassed for all Lucien noticed. Cassian high-fived him with what he clearly thought was some covertness.

Eris was the last to flip his card which, true to form, depicted a rather crude drawing. Beneath it he’d written, getting absolutely wrecked.

Arina laughed. “You know me so well.” Her overturned card read Non-stop fucking.

“More information than I ever needed,” Azriel grumbled.

“Jealous?” Eris taunted. Azriel leveled an unyielding stare.

“In your fucking dreams.”

“I do dream of you,” Eris replied with a mocking grin.

“Who doesn’t?” Gwyn asked, defusing the situation with a smile. Next question, gentleman.”

“Don’t be gross this time,” Elain murmured, sending Lucien the sweetest death glare to ever exist.

“What are your mates biggest pet peeve?” Gwyn asked. All four males hesitated, glancing towards their mates as they wrote.

As usual, Rhys and Feyre went first. He wrote Tamlin which earned a round of laughter though did not match Feyre’s response (unlabeled paint tins). Cassian guessed Nesta’s answer right (being told what to do) and for the first time, Lucien guessed Elain’s answer wrong.

“Weeds?” Elain asked with an eye roll as she flipped a card to reveal mismatched patterns.

“Ah I almost wrote that,” Lucien said with a sheepish grin, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in Cassian’s hands.

“Are we going to let Eris win?” Nesta asked incredulously as he flipped over his card. It was a drawing of his face with big x’sfor eyes.

Arina laughed, her card reflecting his answer.

“I’m so afraid to go to Autumn Court,” Cassian mock whispered to Rhys. The High Lord nodded as he poured out more shots.

“Last question!” Gwyn told the room. “What is the best gift your mate ever gave you?”

All four men immediately began writing.

“Cassian I know what you’re thinking—”

“You don’t,” Cassian interrupted with a grin that told everyoneexactly what he was thinking.

“That’s my sister,” Elain reminded Cassian, who merely laughed.

Feyre got a little weepy when Rhys flipped over his card to reveal Nyx written in elegant script. She went and plopped into his lap, twining her arms around his neck. “Is that what you wrote, darling?” She showed him her card which did, indeed, have Nyx written on it.

“Ugh,” Nesta and Elain complained at the same time when the two began kissing. Cassian interrupted their moment with more crudeness.

“What?!” He asked with a laugh when she tossed her card at him. “We were losing anyway and these two—” He jerked his thumbs towards Rhys and Lucien –“Are being gross and sentimental. Is that what you want? Open, public displays of affection?”

“Were you not already?” Azriel asked with one arched brow. Nesta’s cheeks immediately reddened.

“What did you write?” Cassian demanded, picking up his card. His face softened at what he saw. “Oh Nes.”

“Oh no,” Azriel muttered when Nesta attacked Cassian’s mouth with her own. “Someone stop them.”

“Hey,” Lucien snapped next to Cassian’s ear. “Save that for later.”

“What did the card say?” Gwyn asked curiously. Nesta showed the red head her card, displaying my freedom to the room.

Lucien flipped his card quickly. “See, this is what I meant,” Cassian grumbled when Lucien revealed the word you to which Elain, beaming, revealed a second wrong answer.

“Did you really write Lucien’s best gift was the chicken you two share?” Arina asked with disbelief, looking at Elain’s card.

“Henrietta is our baby,” Elain protested. Lucien chuckled but did nothing to contradict her assertion.

“Alright Eris. What did Arina write?” Gwyn asked.

Eris had drawn a picture of what was clearly Arina in a crown. “My High Lady,” he crooned, his russet eyes filled with affection. Arina smiled, her card the same.

“It was a nice surprise,” she admitted.

“I can’t believe you two let Eris win,” Rhys chided Lucien and Elain, now sitting on the same side of the couch holding hands.

“You know, while all of you were fucking instead of getting to know each other, Arina and I spent vast amounts of time separated. We wrote letters,” Eris informed the room with just a touch of defense. Arina perched herself on the arm of the sofa Eris sat on, her hand resting on his shoulder. “I could tell you her whole routine since the moment she was bornuntil this morning.”

“I’d rather have done the fucking,” Cassian announced. Lucien choked on his whiskey as Rhys nodded in agreement. “We’ve got forever, I’m in no rush.”

“I’m boring, anyway,” Rhys added. Feyre elbowed him hard.

“This is not how I thought this was going to go,” Gwyn admitted. Azriel, his hands on her shoulders, was walking her to the half empty bottle of whiskey.

“At least we have alcohol to numb the pain,” Feyre joked. There were giggles in response.

At least they had each other.

#eluicen #eluicen prompt #some nessian #and a little feysand #the barest hint of gwynriel #no smut either #who have i become #i did think this was funny

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javier-pena · 4 years ago

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alone

Chapter 1 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Mature (for now but that will - spoilers! - change eventually)

Summary: When your best friend and companion is abducted by a group of outlaws, you hire a Mandalorian to help track down the men and get your revenge. What seems like a simple enough task stretches into a month-long trek through inhospitable terrain while both you and the Mandalorian are trying to come to terms with events in your past you cannot change. Set after Season 2.

Warnings: mentions (and short descriptions) of death, murder, and torture | a lot of hurt and no comfort | mentions of loss | mild to moderate language | a lot - and I mean A LOT - of talk about Din’s hands lmao

Notes: This is my first attempt at a Mandalorian fic and the first time in months I’ve written anything. It’s vaguely inspired by my favorite western movies, True Grit (1969/2010), The Quick and the Dead (1995), and The World to Come (2020). So yes, this is going to be very much like a western. I also want to - again - thank Dani @javierpcna who was like “are you writing Mandalorian stuff?” about a month ago and has, since then, read through this chapter more often than me and encouraged me to continue to write it and offered so much valuable insight whenever I came to her with an idea ... seriously, Dani, this fic wouldn’t exist without you and I hope I can find a way to repay you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter (I’m already working on the second one) ...

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The day the Mandalorian arrives on Alvorine is the day you lose your best friend. You’re still busy putting out the fire, running your soot-blackened hand across your face, where the dirt mingles with the tears you’re too tired to stop from streaming down your face, when you hear the thrusters of a spacecraft roaring above you. You barely glance up; you can’t be bothered to. It could be the remnants of the Empire looking for recruits, it could be the New Republic looking for the remnants of the Empire, or it could be the bandits coming back for more. But what do you care? They already took away the one person you care most about in the galaxy. You just grip the shovel tighter and drive it into the soil so you can choke the fire underneath moist stones and dirt.

While you exhaust your body with physical labor, you occupy your mind with thoughts of revenge. Revenge as dark and quenching as the soil beneath you. With every load of dirt you heave onto the searing flames, your plan gains another sharp edge until all you can think of is driving the cutting edge down onto the throat of the man who gripped Brea’s arm and pulled her onto the speeder bike. Maybe his head would come off right away, maybe your tool would just obstruct his windpipe as you watch the life drain slowly out of his eyes. And even that would be too good an end for that monster.

It’s not just in your mind – those thoughts aren’t simply there to ground you while you continue your work in the ruins of what was once your home. It’s not pure fantasy, something to give you back a feeling of control. You are determined to follow through on it; you are going to hunt down these men who burned down your farm and stole Brea from you. You will not rest until they are all dead by your hand. And if you should die in the process … then you won’t go out without a fight, without taking as many of those bastards with you as you can. They have sealed their own fate by coming here today.

You know Brea isn’t dead; they won’t kill her unless she tries to kill one of them first. And she wouldn’t do that, she is too gentle for that, too docile. She would rather turn the other cheek. They should have taken you instead; she doesn’t deserve the fate that awaits her. You would’ve at least put up a fight, make them pay for what they did. And Brea? She would just die.

For now, she’s alive. But whatever you set out to do once you’re done here won’t be a rescue mission. You aren’t under the illusion you can save her. You know that even if you were to leave right now, even if you had your own speeder bike, you would never find her in time. No, this possibility hasn’t even crossed your mind. All you want to do is cause these men more pain than they caused you. You know it is impossible because you cannot imagine anything worse, but you sure as hell will do your best.

You straighten your back, drive the shovel into the ground, and use it as support while you try to catch your breath. The air burns in your lungs, and not just from the cold. There is also the steadily rising black smoke that makes breathing hard; your throat stings, so do your sides, and there is a bitter taste in your mouth. But you’re almost finished here, you’re almost done putting out the fire, so it won’t endanger the surrounding forest. And with every flame you bury, you also bury a piece of your soul until you feel like there is nothing left that makes you human, until all the pain and despair you’re feeling since listening to Brea’s screams grow quieter and quieter until they were swallowed up by silence has turned into a cold, brazen cry for revenge. But you’re glad this has made you less forgiving, less kind, less … human. Those things would only get in the way of the task ahead of you.

As the last flames go out with a wet hiss, one of Alvorine’s three blue white suns vanishes behind the treetops. You know the other two will be quick to follow. And you don’t have anywhere to spend the night. You wouldn’t mind sleeping with your back propped against a tree. You’ve done it often enough. But it’s winter, and the air is already cold and will be even colder once the other two suns set too. And you just lost every blanket, every single piece of fabric that could keep you warm in a small inferno. You know this is just an excuse, a comforting lie you tell yourself. The truth is you cannot spend a minute longer on this clearing, even if that means you have to walk the four miles to the next settlement. You’re so exhausted you cannot feel your legs, but you don’t care. Anything is better than spending the night here, even collapsing in the middle of the dark forest.

You leave the shovel where you stand and walk to the edge of the clearing, swallowing around the lump in your throat, trying to hold down more tears that are threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Once you reach the edge of the forest, where the air is a bit clearer, you take a deep breath and turn around to look at the ruins of your home, now nothing more than a black pile of rubble. You have nothing, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, not even a small trinket to remind you of Brea and the many happy hours you spent here tending to your fields, sweeping the front porch or sitting around the fireplace sharing supper. Even remembering how you worked on menial chores now feels like the most precious memory, one you will hold onto until your last breath. Because even though they have taken everything from you, they can’t take away the memory of Brea’s laugh.

***

They stare at you as you enter the inn. They stare and then look away. They can’t bear your presence because it reminds them of their own guilt. Not one of them came to your aid this morning, not one of them came afterwards to offer help. And you ignore them too because there is nothing left to say. All you want is some food and a dry place to sleep before you turn your back on them forever.

You sit down at a small table in a dark corner. The patrons around you either turn their backs to you or stand up to move their meals and conversations someplace else. It’s as if you’ve been marked. If you had any strength left in you, you would call them out on their behavior. Shit, you would wreak havoc, and only stop when the last one of them is on their knees begging for forgiveness. But you’re glad you’re too exhausted because your sudden hatred for everyone and everything scares you. The villagers don’t deserve to fall victim to your rage. There is nothing they could’ve done. They are just as defenseless and helpless as you. Would you have come to their aid if your positions were reversed? You would like to think so, but just because it gives you a false sense of moral superiority. Deep down you know the truth. Deep down you know you would hide too, praying that you would be spared.

As you dig into your bowl of soup, you realize how hungry you are. Even though everything tastes like ash in your mouth, your stomach is glad to have something to clench around when your thoughts stray to this morning’s events again. And you know there’s no need to punish yourself by refusing your body the nourishment it needs. The opposite, in fact – you know you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re really going after them.

As you swallow one ashy bite after the other, you let your eyes wander around the room, looking for something that will distract you from your thoughts and your feelings of guilt. Everyone avoids your gaze; everyone acts as if your corner is empty. Everyone … except one stranger.

He sits in a booth close to the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you – he’s wearing a helmet that covers his entire head, the kind you’ve seen twice before in this corner of the galaxy. He’s a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and his presence here doesn’t really surprise you. Even though actually seeing one is a rare occurrence, stories about them are countless.

Alvorine is a planet without laws, a planet that lives by its own rules, so many criminals decide to hide out here while they wait for their crimes to be forgotten. There is no military presence on the planet, no judicial system, no one to catch and punish the wrongdoers. The planet follows the rules of whoever is in charge, which changes frequently, but none of the powerful people have enough resources to enforce those rules anyway. Disputes are often just settled by the parties involved in whatever way they see fit. Only the Mandalorians, who are hired by people on other worlds, by people who have never experienced what it is like to live on Alovrine, are brave enough to get involved in those disputes. You have to admit you do feel a tiny bit curious as to why that particular Mandalorian is here ... who hired him? And who is he hunting?

You tentatively let your gaze wander over his stoic body, over the beskar covering his arms and chest, over the bandolier wrapped around his upper body, over the visor hiding his eyes. If you had one like him on your side, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting your revenge. He would catch those men in the blink of an eye. And if you paid him enough, he would do to them whatever you wanted.

He would cut off their limbs but keep them alive long enough to feel it.

He would make them run for it, give them the illusion of hope, only to crush it like their bones.

He would let you watch, let you choose whatever punishment you saw fit.

You shift in your seat because you can almost smell the blood, you can hear a faint echo of their screams, and it makes you feel light-headed and nauseous, but also elevates you, lifts a weight off your shoulders, even if just for a brief moment.

But he’s not here to do your bidding. And when you lift your head again, he’s gone.

You finish your bowl of soup and then decide to rent a room upstairs for the night. You don’t have a place to stay anymore and it’s too dangerous to start your pursuit while it’s dark. The forest belongs to dangerous creatures during the night, more dangerous than any man out there. And you’re planning on staying alive for just a little while longer.

You stretch and yawn and move to get up when your path is suddenly blocked. It happens so fast you don’t register anything at first apart from the cold, hard beskar chest plate that is level with your face. Its unexpected appearance makes you lose your balance and you fall back down onto the bench you’ve been sitting on. The Mandalorian extends his hand, his fingers closing around thin air. It’s a half-hearted attempt to stop your fall, and it comes too late – your backside has already painfully collided with the hard wood.

“May I join you?” His voice sounds distorted through the modulator in his helmet. He sounds like a machine, not like a being with a heartbeat.

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to fuck off, but for tonight you have no fight left in you. So you nod.

He sits down and you expect to hear the clink of his armor, expect to feel a tremor when his heavy body comes to rest on a stool opposite you. But there is no sound, no movement, and the lack makes you sit up straighter. This isn’t just another cowardly villager you can get rid of by glaring at him … this is an apex predator.

You swallow with some difficulty. “Can I help you?” you ask, your voice level, your eyes resting on his glove-clad hands lying on the table. You figure you’re safe as long as you can see them.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you. You cannot see his eyes behind the tinted visor. No matter how uncomfortable the situation makes you feel, you try not to move … you try not to show any sign of weakness, to give him any excuse to lunge across the table and strangle you.

Finally, he answers. “I’m looking for work.”

Now you cannot help but move. You exhale sharply, and with that release of breath comes a release of tension as you slump backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you. You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help you,” you say. You don’t have any work to offer him, no work worthy of the skills of a Mandalorian who usually hunts down important people, kings, merchants, people who influence the course of the galaxy’s history. Following a few lowly bandits is not the work he’s used to. You don’t even want to tell him about it because you know he’d take it as an insult. And even if - by some miracle - your quest for revenge would be deemed a worthy cause in the eyes of the Mandalorian, you couldn’t afford his services.

The slightest movement of his helmet is the only reaction your answer gets out of him. Whether he shifts because he’s surprised or because he’s angry, or whether his scalp itches under the metal you cannot tell.

Still, you feel the need to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

Shit, that’s the wrong thing to say. It implies you have work for him, but that you’re too poor to pay him. For all you know, this could be a grave insult in Mandalorian society.

His fingers on the table clench around thin air again. “What can you offer?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to know about the job, the quarry as you know they call it. No, he just wants to know how much he can earn.

“240 credits,” you answer. It’s all you have. You won’t need it anymore.

He tilts his head and you expect him to refuse, but then he says, “That’s enough.”

You’re taken aback, surprised. He’s caught you off-guard. You were fully prepared to see him walk away at hearing the ridiculously low amount of money you just offered. “You don’t even know what the job is,” you protest. The last thing you need is a Mandalorian hunting you down because you’re not paying him enough.

“They told me,” he says with a nod behind him.

You follow the movement with your eyes and see heads whip to the side, gazes wandering downwards, you notice conversations being picked up again. White hot fury fills you, more powerful than the flames that destroyed your house.

“They had no right,” you press out through clenched teeth.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything. He sits still like a statue, unwavering, as you fight a small battle with yourself. You should leave without looking back. Messing with a Mandalorian is even more dangerous than the task ahead of you. But he’s offering you something invaluable, something no amount of credits can get you: a chance. If you go alone, you’ll be dead in about a week. There’s no use pretending you’ll get out of it alive. But if you accept the Mandalorian’s help – his services, you have to remind yourself – you might make it through two. You might get to see your dreams of revenge become reality.

You sigh deeply as a heavy weariness settles over you. You’re exhausted, and now that all the adrenaline has left your body, you can feel all the small cuts and bruises today’s labors have left behind. And you feel empty … cold and empty, and utterly alone.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t defend the villagers, he doesn’t tell you what he knows about you or the job, he doesn’t try to persuade you to take him up on his offer, nor does he walk away from it. He just sits there and waits for you to make up your mind, as if it’s all the same to him. And it probably is. Either he goes with you and earns some money, or he doesn’t and looks for work elsewhere. He is completely detached from the whole affair. There is no emotional investment, just a job that needs to be done.

He doesn’t care if you live or die, he just cares if you pay him or not.

This realization is what finally helps you make up your mind. “I want to hire you,” you say, your tongue heavy in your mouth. All you really want is to sleep.

There is no reaction for the longest time but then the Mandalorian nods. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something, give him details or explain the specifics of the job to him. But before you can decide what to say next, he stands abruptly.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says before turning around.

Your brain needs a moment to catch up but when it does, you’re already on your feet. “Wait,” you say, and to your surprise the broad, steel-clad man listens to you.

He doesn’t face you, but he stops.

You briefly consider asking him if you can accompany him, but you don’t. You don’t have to ask, you get to decide.

“I’m coming with you,” you tell him.

You tell a stranger, a dangerous one at that, one who makes his money by making other people’s lives a living hell, that you will travel with him through dark, deserted forests where no one will stop him from taking what he wants from you instead of earning it, where no one will come to your aid should he not honor the deal you apparently just made with him. And you don’t care. Because no matter what he will do to you, it can’t be worse than what has already been done.

But all your worries and fears focus in on just one tiny aspect of this whole, fucked-up situation when he says, “I work alone.”

You don’t want to negotiate. This shouldn’t even be up for debate. You’re his employer now, you get to decide how things are done. But if you insist on this, he could just walk away from you. And you cannot let that happen now that you’ve had an idea of what it would be like to have a Mandalorian on your side.

“We’re not a team,” you say. “Think of me as an interested party. As someone who is fascinated by your work.”

You’re not sure if that is the right thing to say. His shoulders move, but he still doesn’t turn around. When he speaks again, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

“I work alone or not at all.”

You don’t want to accept that. You want to be there when those men are punished for what they did. You don’t want to wait around for the Mandalorian to come back, not when you don’t have anywhere to wait around in. You’ve lost everything. Had he talked to the villagers as he claims, he would know this. Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows you lost your home today but doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know the definition of the word home. It means nothing to him.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t be needing your services.”

This finally makes him turn around. Everything in you screams for you to take a few steps back, to put yourself out of his reach. You can feel the atmosphere between you shift – he draws back his shoulders, makes himself even taller than he already is. And you know, you just know, that refusing his offer, that backtracking on your agreement is the worst mistake you made tonight.

You’re pretty sure that not honoring a deal is the worst insult to a Mandalorian.

“Going alone will be your death,” he says when you cannot bear the tension a second longer.

“What’s it to you?”

The words are out. They are a challenge, one you didn’t mean to make, one you shouldn’t have made, but it’s done now. Your hand begins to tremble, and your feet grow cold with fear as you prepare yourself for his reaction. You don’t know if he will hit you, tie you up, torture you, or just kill you on the spot. He could do all of these things without having to fear any repercussions. You curse yourself for not having been more careful, for making this fatal mistake, because now Brea will go unavenged. Just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, just because you’re stubborn and hot-headed and oh so stupid.

But to your surprise, the Mandalorian shrugs. He lifts his broad shoulders, then lowers them again as your eyes follow the movement. But he’s not giving you anything more: He doesn’t insist on going alone, he doesn’t turn around and leave, he just keeps standing opposite you, motionless, emotionless, until you’re convinced you imagined the shrug.

So you decide to make the next move by removing yourself from this situation before he changes his mind and drags you back to his ship to do whatever he wants to you. You take a deep breath and start to step around him, a movement that is almost impossible to complete in this small space you’re both in. But you attempt it, nevertheless. When you’re level with him, doing your best not to brush up against him so you won’t enrage him, you hear his voice. It’s just one sentence, four words, but for some reason it sounds so much more human than it did when he was opposite you. Maybe it has something to do with the distance between his helmet and your ear, maybe it’s the angle from which the sounds hit your eardrums or maybe it’s because you feel light-headed, dizzy with the realization he hasn’t killed you yet and probably won’t.

He says, “Have it your way.”

You stop right next to him, staring ahead at a group of three men who do their best not to look at you. But you don’t see them anyway. In fact, you don’t see anything at all because the rushing sound in your ears drowns out everything else, even other senses.

“You can come with me,” he says, and it’s the first time he has spoken two sentences in a row. “But you do as I say.” Three. “If I tell you to run, you run.” Four. “If I tell you to get out of the way, you do so.” Five. “And if I tell you to kill, you kill.” Six.

Then nothing, just the faint sound of his deep breaths through the modulator.

Your thoughts are racing, tripping over their own feet like children running down a hill, and they’re unbearably loud. Everything is loud suddenly, from the sound of the barkeep filling a glass to the way that woman over there is chewing her food. The only thing that’s quiet is the last one you would have suspected to be so: the Mandalorian. Now he is waiting for you to say something and as he does, he balls his hand into a fist and then releases the tension again, over and over like a nervous tic, like he needs an outlet for the tension in his body, the tension you have no idea he is feeling until you see his arm flex beneath the fabric covering it.

But, once more, you’re at war with yourself. You don’t know what to tell him. There is still that shimmer of hope on the horizon, the light that makes you believe you stand a chance if you bring him along. But his terms … you’re not sure if you can accept them. He doesn’t know Alvorine or the men you would be hunting half as well as you do. And you’ve never been one for following orders. So if you feel that his assessment of a situation is wrong, you’re not sure you’ll be able to run just because he tells you to.

You have a feeling that defying his orders would be the most dangerous thing you could ever do, even more dangerous than hunting down a group of ruthless bandits who like to torture and kill for fun.

“All right,” you say finally.

His fist unclenches one last time and he exhales slowly.

“But when we find them,” you swallow hard, once, but your mouth is completely dry, “I get to decide what happens to them.”

The Mandalorian turns toward you so abruptly that you almost lose your balance. You lean back and hit your elbow on the wall behind you. The pain makes you curse under your breath.

“Agreed,” he whispers. He sounds like a machine again, as if everything that makes him human is shut away beneath that cold, hard, invaluable beskar steel. You too feel cold suddenly, cold and afraid. “But until then you do as I say. Understood?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. He is too close to you, and drowns out everything else, even the sounds that you considered to be too loud mere seconds ago. If he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet, you would be able to feel his breath on your cheek. He takes up your field of vision almost entirely. You’ve never felt more on display, and yet more hidden. And you know that if you say the wrong thing now, it will have terrible consequences.

So you just nod again.

“We leave in the morning,” he tells you, then turns around suddenly and leaves, his cape trailing behind him.

All sounds come rushing back at once, as if you’ve just emerged out of a pool of water. You release your breath quickly, only now realizing you’ve been holding it. Then you slump back against the wall, a shaking, quivering mess.

***

tag list: @bella-ciao, @filthybookworm, @frannyzooey, @khalysa, @leannawithacapitala, @mothandpidgeon, @mrsparknuts, @mxsamwilson, @piscespussybabe, @something-tofightfor

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal #fanfic #the hunt fic #yes i've queued this #yes i'm asleep right now #and yes i'm too much of a coward

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writethelifeyouwant · 4 years ago

Text

Make Him Look - Ch 1 / 2

Pairing: Cordell Walker x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: flirting, many many drinks, jealousy, dancing, slow burn Word Count: 3k Created for: @walker-bingo - In Vino Veritas | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Jealousy A/N: Written with the lovely @thinkinghardhardlythinking in mind ❤️and y'all can also blame her for the fact it got so long I split it into two 😂

Cordell swings his leg over a barstool and settles into his usual spot. The bar is busy but not crowded. There’s a few more empty stools awaiting occupants for the night, and Cordell hooks one with his foot and draws it closer, popping his hat down to save the seat for Liam, who’s on his way. But there’s no reason to wait for Liam before he orders – they get the same thing every time.

“Barkeep! Can I get some queso, hot wings, and whatever Pinthouse you’ve got on draft?”

“Sure thing, man,” the kid behind the bar drawls, his accent thick and voice lazy. Cordell would bet anything the guy had had a joint on his break earlier, but he’s off duty – tonight is not about busting people for drugs, tonight is about letting loose. He checks his phone to see if Liam had texted him that he’d left the office yet, but there is nothing there. Taking a sip of the drink that has just been plopped on a coaster in front of him, Cordell scans the room. It’s a bad habit that every law enforcement worker he’s ever met has developed. Even when he’s trying to relax and blow off some steam, he can’t help being a little vigilant.

He takes in the tableaus around him; the groups of kids from the local community college, the gaggle of mid to late aged men in awful polos that Cordell recognises as the inner city bowling league, a couple of less savoury looking guys playing pool, the cluster of women those guys keep eyeing up – he’ll keep an eye on that one.

Checking his phone again and taking another drink, he still hasn’t heard anything from Liam. He opens his brother’s contact and is about to give him a call to tell him to get his ass in gear when someone suddenly reaches down beside him, picks up his hat and drops it back on his head while they slide into the seat he’d been saving - except it’s not Liam.

“Hey you,” the stranger says familiarly, bumping her shoulder against his. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

You shrug out of your jacket and sling it over your arm as you head up to the worn wood counter of the bar. You don’t see your friend yet, so you decide to go ahead and order a drink while you wait for her to show. She’s always late, you should have just assumed and shown up fifteen minutes from now. You play on your phone as you wait for the bartender to finish serving the gang of people at the other end of the bar. When you feel someone in front of you, you look up, about to order a glass of wine, except one is already being placed on the bar top in front of you.

You stare questioningly at the kid serving you the drink. You’d been here before, sure, but you’re hardly a regular, and even if you were you don’t recognise this server – so why does he know what you were about to order?

“Um, I didn’t–” you start but the kid interrupts you.

“From the gentleman at the end of the bar, milady,” he gave a geeky little bow, “Sorry, he told me to say it like that,” he grimaces at himself. You chance a fleeting look back to the group you’d noticed him serving a few minutes ago and to your horror, you recognise your ex, Dirk, grinning back at you. He tips the brim of his ball cap and gives you a wink, like he’s expecting you to be impressed that he remembers you drink red wine. Shit, this is not how this night is supposed to go. You’re supposed to be here to get drunk with your best friend and have a bit of a dance, not be looking over your shoulder the whole night hoping that jerk leaves you alone.

Panicking a little now, you check your phone but there’s no text from Lea telling you when to expect her. Knowing her like you do, you would bet anything she won’t be here soon, and you don’t want to wait on your own and risk Dirk coming to talk to you. Desperately, you scan your eyes around the bar, cataloguing your options and escape routes. Someone catches your eye a few seats along from where you are. Tall, broad – dark and handsome, your mind supplies unhelpfully – but what really catches your eye is the badge hanging from his belt. He’s a Ranger.

Normally, you’d pick a group of girls who you know would happily pretend to know you so you don’t have to wait alone but you know Dirk, and you know he won’t be shy enough to let any number of girls stop him from coming to ruin your night. But a guy - and a Texas Ranger at that – Dirk wouldn’t dare. He had an outstanding DUI, and he’d always been a bit of a chicken around cops anyways.

Choice made, you grab the wine he’d bought you – hey, you’re not made of money, free booze is free booze – and you march purposefully over to the Ranger, who’s checking his phone and not paying attention until you grab his black cowboy hat off the chair next to him. Clearly he had been saving it for someone, and you want Dirk to think that someone is you.

“Hey you,” you chirp, placing his hat back on his head as you slide into the seat he’d been saving, “Thanks for saving me a seat.” You smile at the Ranger long enough to see him looking at you completely perplexed before you glance back to Dirk and see him watching you with a scowl. You let yourself feel inwardly triumphant and turn back to the man you’d just decided to befriend, if only temporarily.

Swivelling back towards him, you let yourself get a good look at his face for the first time. His bright hazel eyes are staring back at you, confused but not unkind. Tall, dark, and handsome is definitely apt, and now you’re seeing him properly you’re a bit speechless. You hadn’t counted on him being this freakin’ attractive.

“Sorry,” you finally manage to choke out under your breath. “I’ll leave you alone soon, I promise, I’m just hiding from my ex,” you explain, and understanding melts across the man’s face.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks sympathetically.

“Just pretend like you know me until my friend gets here?” you propose hopefully.

“Happy to,” he smiles, grabbing his drink and holding it out to clink against your wine glass. You tap your glass against his, relief flooding your body as you settle onto your stool a little more comfortably.

“Thank you…” you trail off leadingly, hoping he’ll fill in his name.

“Cordell,” he supplies.

“Now there is a Texan name if I ever heard one,” you giggle.

“If you’re gonna laugh at my name do I at least get the chance to laugh at yours too?” he grins jokingly.

“Y/N,” you give him your name, tucking your hair behind your ear and taking a sip of your wine.

“Well that’s no fun, how can I tease you for such a pretty name?” Cordell takes a sip of his own drink, mirroring you. Jeez, this one is a smooth talker.

When you finish your glass of wine, probably a little quicker than normal due to your anxious state, you check your phone again and see a missed call from Lea. “Crap,” you sigh, drawing a concerned look from Cordell, who is happily munching away on some chips and queso next to you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, muffled, mouth still full of food.

“Yeah, s’just my friend bailing on me,” you gripe, listening to the voicemail she’d left on your phone a few minutes ago. “Sorry I gate crashed your night for nothing,” you apologise, popping your phone back in your bag and planning on just going home to turn in early and watch some junky tv show in bed now that your ‘girls night’ wasn’t happening.

“Hey, you aren’t gate crashing.” Cordell shrugs, like he’s hedging his bets with his next statement. “I’ve had a good time so far.” His smile is shy and sincere, and you soften just a little in your annoyance at the world.

“I totally am though, you were clearly waiting for someone,” you gesture to the stool you’d taken up residence on.

“Just my work-a-holic brother, who, as luck would have it–” Cordell pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it up to show the message on the lock screen “–also pulled out on me.”

“Oh,” you blink, not sure what to make of that. It sounds like he’s asking you to stay but… “Well, thank you for being my knight in shining armour for a bit, seriously, but I don’t really want to stick around just to have my ex looking at me all night.”

“Well, if he’s gonna be a creep and keep watching you all night, we could make that fun, give him something to watch,” Cordell offers, his smirk incongruous with the almost hopeful expression in his eyes.

“What?” You’re perplexed.

“I mean, I don’t know what happened between you, but it’s pretty obvious to me that he wants you back, and you seem pretty pissed at him for that. I’m guessing the bastard cheated on you?” You huff in response, a little bitter that he’d read the situation so easily.

“Yeah, he did,” you admit, slumping against the bar, feeling downtrodden at the memory.

“So don’t let him chase you off,” Cordell shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He messed you around – you tellin’ me you wouldn’t like to mess with him right back?” he raises an eyebrow in temptation, a knowing smirk twitching at his lips.

“And you’re proposing that instead of not wanting him to look at me all night–”

“You make him look,” Cordell finishes your sentence for you. “We’ve already pretended to know each other for the past–” he checks his watch “–twenty minutes. May as well just do the whole pretend date.” Cordell looks at you with so much honesty, you believe that he really does just want to help you screw with Dirk. And you cannot say the idea isn’t appealing.

“Alright,” you concede, shaking your head slightly in disbelief that you’re actually agreeing to this, and Cordell’s face splits into a wide smile. Honestly, seeing that expression alone made agreeing to this worth it. “So, if we’re on a pretend date, you gonna pretend to buy me another drink?”

“No,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently.

“C’mon,” Cordell chides, grinning madly.

“I did not agree to this,” you shake your head, finishing off the last bit of wine in your glass.

“Come on,” he urges again, leaning against the bar and tilting his head close to yours pleadingly.

“I am not dancing,” you repeat, wholeheartedly meaning it. You think if you have to come into genuine skin to skin contact with Cordell, you might actually melt into a puddle. Now three glasses of wine into your fake date, you can feel yourself loosening up and really enjoying yourself with this handsome stranger. He’s kind, and funny, and a little weird but in a charming way – exactly your type. And him begging you to dance with him wasn’t helping your self-restraint. This is a fake date, you keep reminding yourself firmly every time he flashes you that little half smile that makes his eyes light up.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of boring fake dates you usually go on, but mine aren’t complete unless I get to show off my two-step and knock back a tequila shot.”

“Oh, we’re doing tequila now, are we?” You laugh – this guy is actually ridiculous, and you kind of love it.

“That wasn’t a no,” he jumps on your ‘non denial’ and waves at the kid behind the bar. “Two tequilas, two limes?” he holds up two fingers and the bartender nods to him, quickly pouring out the shots and dropping two lime wedges onto a plate. Cordell grabs a salt shaker from the condiments rack on the bar and sets everything up between you. You let him work, watching incredulously but enjoying the show nonetheless.

“Give me your hand,” he holds out his own hand expectantly once he’s arranged all the pieces to his liking.

“Why?” your voice is nervous but your hand reaches out instantly of its own accord. Without answering he proceeds to rub the edge of the lime over the inside of your wrist, then puts the lime in your fingers and shakes some salt over the trail of juice he left behind. He does the same thing to himself, then passes you your shot, which you take in your lime-free hand.

“Right, you wanna do this the normal way or the ‘make Dirk jealous way’?” Cordell asks with a smirk once he’s oriented himself.

“I’m gonna regret asking this, but what’s the ‘make Dirk jealous’ way?” you groan exaggeratedly, like he’s put some great burden on you, but the truth is you’re really enjoying yourself.

“Like this,” Cordell steps up to you and links your right arms together. Catching his drift you smile and try to hold back the snort of laughter that bubbles up inside you – a nervous reaction to feeling the warmth of his body against yours, even through the layer of his shirt. “One, two, three,” he counts off and you go to lick the salt off your wrist except that’s what Cordell is doing. You freeze momentarily, heat shooting up your arm from where his tongue and lips are laving over your skin. You don’t think to move until Cordell puts his own wrist against your lips and you lick obediently.

Your linked arms pull you closer together as Cordell lifts the tequila to his lips and you follow suit in a kind of trance, both knocking back your shots. The tequila hits you harder than you remember it ever doing before, and you scrunch up your face, disoriented for a moment until you once again feel Cordell’s lips on your skin. This time they’re wrapping around your finger tips as he sucks the lime into his mouth. You stand frozen, the burn in your mouth and your fingers meeting in your chest and ratcheting up your heart rate as if you’re trying to run away from the oncoming flames. But it’s hopeless, you’re stuck in the blaze now.

“You want your lime, darlin’?” Cordell laughs at your stock still frame and holds his fingers to your lips, gently pressing the fruit inside and urging you to suck. You’re sure you must have physically combusted into fire by now, but Cordell isn’t jumping away like he’s been singed – he’s pressing closer. “Dance with me,” he rasps, voice hoarse from the burn of the alcohol. It’s not a request anymore, it’s an order, and you don’t question it.

Drawing his hand down the arm of yours linked with his until your fingers lace together, he pulls you away from the bar and out onto the dance floor. It’s an upbeat country song, the kind you’d normally jump around to, but he pulls you in and wraps an arm around your waist like a proper partner dance calls for – except he’s ignored the social convention of leaving room for Jesus. He pulls you after him in tiny circles and you let him lead happily. When the song changes to something a little slower he pulls you just a little tighter, and you can’t stop yourself from moving your gaze off his shoulder up to his face.

His eyes dart over your shoulder, then smile down at you wryly, and you feel yourself blush. “He’s watching,” Cordell grins mischievously. You go to look but he puts a hand on your neck and holds you still, keeping your eyes on him. His fingers are strong and warm against your collarbone, ironically causing you to shiver. “No, don’t look at him,” his voice is low as he leans in conspiratorially, “you wanna make him look, remember?”

“Why are you helping me?” The alcohol swimming through your veins is making you comfortable and fuzzy, and you let yourself lean against him familiarly, your head resting against his chest as he continues to move you both around the dance floor. You feel him shrug as his grips on your hand and the nape of your neck tighten a little.

“The truth?” he asks. You can hear the nerves in his voice, even if you can’t see them on his face.

“No, I want you to lie to me, please,” your voice manages to stay serious through the end of the joke before you burst into giggles, and you feel your laughter move into his body and trigger his own, making his chest rise and fall unevenly beneath your cheek.

“You are one hell of a gal, you know that?” You’re glad your face is buried in his chest so he can’t see just how brightly you smile at the compliment. “Truth is, I’ve been trying to get you drunk and have my wicked way with you.” You can tell by how expressionless his voice has gone that he’s winding you up, but you pull back and slap your hand to your chest in mock horror.

“Well Cordell Walker, I have never met such a rogue in my life,” you gasp in your best Scarlet O’Hara accent. It’s not a good one. Neither of you can keep a straight face for more than a few seconds, and you both double over in laughter after your minuscule standoff.

As your laughter dies down, Cordell grabs your hands again and pulls you back to him, swaying entirely out of time to the song that’s playing. He looks like he’s about to say something but the words haven’t quite found their way to his tongue, and when you catch his eyes you suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say and you pull away from him. He looks at you, puzzled and just the slightest bit hurt as you try to find some cover for your sudden movement.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a bourbon fan, would you?”

Part 2 Here!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67

All Walker: @lovealways-j @delightfullykrispypeach @stoneyggirl @thinkinghardhardlythinking @sams-sass @walkersbabygirl

#walkerbingo #anyfandomgoesbingo #afgbingo #walker x reader #cordell x reader #fake dating #slow burn #walker fic #jared padalecki

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skei-seems · 4 years ago

Text

Professor Reid

(PART 1)

Summary: Reader kicks off first semester of university with a team project that requires a trip to another city. Her professor, Spencer Reid, is to accompany the team, but the journey takes an interesting turn when he offers to show her a pub in the city one night.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x (female) reader

Category: Smut [NSFW]

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap, Swearing

A/N: Please send me some feedback on this or requests, I would love to hear your thoughts. Also, do you guys prefer first person x reader or second person pov? Part 2 linked below ;)

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You could always see something coming from a mile away, it was a peculiar skill of yours to be able to plan out every possible outcome of any situation (especially the worst ones) in order to satisfy your anxiety. University was a new ground, it was unfamiliar and untrodden, and that’s what made it dangerous - the unforeseeable future.

As soon as you started criminal psychology class, you knew it would be your favourite. Perhaps it was because of the interesting analogy strategies, or the way the minds of the psychos worked, but mainly it was because of the gorgeous golden-locked professor. His intelligent hands gestured each time he spoke and the way they often ran through his hair to fix it, his big brown eyes scanning the room which sometimes met your gaze, and the nerdy button up shirts he wore was enough to set your lust for him on fire. The development of crushes on people that would never be interested in you was a frequent occurrence, and the probability of something happening between you was far from reality - you knew that - and that was where the satisfaction lay in it. Knowing nothing can or will happen, the infatuation was innocent and improbable.

“Okay class, I have an announcement to make,” the voice that sent goosebumps over your skin each time it sounded, boomed through the large classroom. You focused from a distance on his sharp eyes, before he looked down at a piece of paper in his hands. “There will be a trip to another university to join a team which will conduct a research project together,” some ‘ooh’s’ and ‘aah’s’ sounded there, ”but unfortunately I cannot take all of you.” Disappointment flooded through the room now, but a little jolt of excitement went through your body. A trip, to another town, with the hot professor. He continued, “I have selected five students based on how well they did in the last examination, the names of whom I read now please meet with me after class.”

Your heart sped up in your chest, you were even afraid the thumping could be heard by your surrounding classmates as he read off the names, and stopped when yours was the last. Part of you wished you could be as calm as the others when class ended and they slowly made their way to his desk, but the other part of you wanted to lather up every bit of excitement that coursed through your body as you approached the tall smart-looking man.

As he briefed the group on what you need to prepare and the plans for the trip, you calmed down and made some notes, but a strand of hair had fallen into his face which distracted you. When he finished the briefing and made sure everyone was okay with spending their first week of holiday doing a school trip, everyone made to leave. You pocketed your phone, looked around when you heard him say “Bye guys, see you on the weekend!” and made eye contact, he smiled awkwardly and averted his gaze to the others walking out the door. Your heart immediately started racing in your chest and only calmed once you got home, and you could not get those beautiful brown eyes out of your head.

---

It was the day of the trip. You would be driving together in a bus and stay at a hotel; you had free time in the mornings and evenings, project participation during the day and one free days to tour the city with your guide, professor Reid. Apparently if you did well, you would be allowed a night of celebration at the end in a very fancy club, which did not really seem like a reward to you, clubs were loud and full of sweaty drunk strangers.

The drive was long and seemingly endless with not much to do, and you were slightly amused to see that both you and the professor had brought a book to entertain yourselves with for the trip. When you arrived, the whole group set out to their rooms (each with a roommate) except for the professor, who made sure you knew where it was and that each had his number to call in case of emergency. He gave everyone the rest of the afternoon off to do your own activities, but you weren't allowed to go off alone, and had to be back at the hotel by 10.

You spent most of your free time reading or putting together work for the project, and by the third day the others had quickly formed a bond and gone off without you to have fun. It was about six thirty when you heard a knock on the door. Wondering who it was, you opened it to the gorgeous blonde professor.

“Hi Y/N, the others have all gone with the other university’s team to a restaurant and I’ve allowed them a later curfew, don’t you want to join them?” He asked, with a slight concern (probably because you were always alone). His brows were knit into a neat frown and you could imagine them being like that for a whole other reason, almost buckling your knees.

“Um,” you stumbled, thrown off by his sudden appearance and question, and thought for a moment. “To be honest I don’t really feel like being in that big group after spending the whole day with them.”

At this, he looked down and smiled, almost in a knowing way. “Well, if you want to get out, I’m going to meet some of my old university friends at a place that’s really nice,” then he sheepishly added, “and probably better than the restaurant your classmates chose.”

You bit your lip, he was asking you to come with him, without any other student present. “Your old university friends?”

“Yeah, this was where I studied before I moved and joined the FBI to become a profiler.”

Before you could answer, he added, “I just, couldn’t help but notice you haven’t gone out at all with the others. It wouldn’t sit right with me if you spend another night all by yourself.”

His words sent a rush of goosebumps over your skin. It made you look away with embarrassment that your introverted habits had not gone unnoticed. “Okay,” you said with forced sureness, and shyly looked at him again, “could I maybe just change real quick?”

He studied you a little and nodded. “Meet me at the foyer in fifteen minutes. You won’t regret it.” He seemed pleased with himself at convincing you to come out of your shell, and it sent electric sparks through your body that he made an effort for you, and only you.

Fifteen minutes later you walked up to the foyer. It turns out he had made the decision to change as well, going for a white buttoned up shirt, black fitting trousers and a pair of high top converse. You could not take your eyes off the man, and your stomach somersaulted at his rolled up sleeves that exposed his veiny forearms and watched wrist. As you came closer, he turned around and let his smouldering brown eyes travel down your body.

You flushed with warmth and redness as he took in your change of appearance, you wore black skinny jeans, a top that exposed your chest a little more than you would allow at school, and your go-to white sneakers.

“I was almost afraid you decided to stand me up,” he joked and shuffled his feet as the scent of your elegant rosey perfume engulfed him.

“Almost,” You chuckled, this informal stance was relaxing. You made your way down a couple of blocks while the professor talked a bit about the city, and finally entered a retro-looking pub. As you observed the place, you could feel his eyes on you. You realised for the first that he was your grounding now, since there was no one else in the room you knew, an intimate feeling arose at this thought and you moved a little closer to him.

“This is where I spent many a night drinking with my friends,” he said - with pride - while leading you to an empty table. You could hardly picture this smart and always-composed man being drunk, but it was a humoured picture nonetheless. He had to lean in for you to hear him over the music and talking of the people inside, and you could feel his hot minty breath sending tingles across your skin.

“I like it,” you replied. The bar was old wood, the walls were lined with all kinds of posters and signs that made up the aesthetic, accompanied by a small stage area with a landing dance floor.

“It’s my favourite, ahh-” he looked up at someone behind you and got up, “here they are.” Your heart skipped a beat, you were always nervous when meeting new people.

“SPENCE, my man!” exclaimed a tall curly haired fellow as they ‘bro-hugged’. A second, more buff and bearded man followed with “Long time no see!” He looked a little older but the two seemed to make sense as a friendship.

After they exchanged greetings, they realized your presence. Assuming they were out of earshot from a couple of feet away, the curly haired guy complimented professor Reid on his ‘date’ and made a gesture to suggest nice ‘boobs.’ You had to hide your smile when the professor went crimson and explained that you were his student, but you could feel your legs aching a little at the sight of him being flustered. He glanced at you nervously and ran a hand through his loose curls.

Finally, the men joined the table and introduced themselves, sharing stories of when they were your age. The professor seemed so different like this, so warm and relaxed, as compared to his usual formal state. You exchanged glances and a couple of smiles through the drinks and conversations, and you couldn’t push away the thought that maybe you were forming a connection. You focused on the way he sometimes licked his lips or put his fingers to his mouth, and imagined sucking on them, squeezing your thighs at the thought. Maybe you would be different after the trip, but you were snapped back to reality when the two of his friends decided to call it a night.

As the two were saying their goodbyes and making their way to the door. You checked your phone and shocked, exclaimed “It’s only ten o’clock!”

This earned a beautiful laugh from your professor. “I suppose that’s late when you’re my age. But we don’t have to leave. Wanna play a game of pool?”

Relief flooded unto you, you did not want this to be over, no one else had seen the professor like this and - despite your nervousness - you were having fun. The pub had grown fuller than when you first came in. Noticing a couple of lustful glances to your body, and to avoid being crumpled or lost between passing bodies, Spencer lightly put a hand on your lower back as he guided you in front of him over to the pool tables. The touch was barely, and so subtle, but it created a sense of dominince over you and made the area where his fingers connected with the fabric of your shirt tingle and spread to your lower belly.

He was pretty good at the game, hitting with careful preciseness and studying the table for a while before taking each of his turns. Focusing like him was a rather difficult task when you kept watching his veiny hands wrap around the pool stick and grip it tightly before he bent over to shoot. It was a little funny that he took it with such seriousness, but this forced you to do the same, and soon there was an atmosphere of strong competitiveness evident between you two. It came down the last couple of balls, when you decided to throw in a bet.

“If I win what do I get?” You confidently challenged, the alcohol had given your voice a certain assertiveness it lacked when you were sober, but this could also be a bad thing - the alcohol talking for you.

“If you win I buy the next round of drinks, if I win you pay for the round.” He said without thinking too hard about it, then returned his focus back to the game.

A couple moments later professor Reid won, and you reluctantly pulled out your wallet from your bag and made your way to the bar. The look on his face was triumph, but it had been a little exciting for the duration of the game that he considered you his equal, as competition. While you waited for the two glasses of Jack and Coke, a hand groped you from behind. You jumped out of the stranger’s grasp and tried to put as much distance between the two of you, but the line was cramped and it didn’t help much.

A sloppy looking man smirked at you, “How bout I get you a drink, darling.”

“How bout you leave her alone.” A firm voice said behind you, and you felt a warm hand sneak around your waist.

The guy looked annoyed but retreated from the bar. You turned around, a little thrown off from the interaction. “Thank you for saving me, professor.” You said, looking into his chocolate eyes staring off at the guy, now darkened with a little - anger? protectiveness? or was it dominance? Either way, it excited you.

“But I can handle myself”

He cocked his head and eyed you smugly. “Just stick closer to me from now.” He smiled with reassurance, not taking his hand off your waist, and the creep left your mind. All you wanted now was him.

You took your drinks and went back to the pool tables, all of them were occupied. Two friendly biker-looking guys offered to play in teams with you, though. You took on the challenge and played, but you were focusing on a different game. The alcohol had flushed out any thoughts or worry about the age difference or the fact that he was your professor, you were’t sure how, but you were going to get him one way or another. The game progressed slowly, and you got the opportunity to bend down in front of the professor. Behind you, you heard the biker next to him say “dude, if you don’t hit that, I will,” and felt a subtle, but not too soft landing on your ass. A yelp escaped your mouth, more out of surprise than anything, but you shot the ball in and turned around. Spencer looked embarrassed, and pulled you away a little and apologised.

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, sir,” you insisted, then adding, “I kinda liked it.”

His mouth formed into an ‘O’ shaped, and with his eyebrows raised he let out a chuckle, but you could see something change in his eyes as he glanced at your lips.

You were pulled out of your daze when you heard it - the song. The song you had to dance to no matter what, so you grabbed your drink and downed the last of it. “Come on, professor,” you pulled him by his hand.

“What’s happening?” he asked, looking a little amused.

“We have to dance to this song, it’s illegal not to.”

He laughed and followed you. The world was spinning a little and the alcohol had made your body warm, you would have to get out for fresh air sooner than later or you’d start sweating. Not knowing what was going through your or the professors mind, whatever it was, you hoped it was the same thing.

Once on the dance floor, the two of you easily fit in the crowd’s rhythm. He knew the lyrics just as well as you, and you jumped and moved around each other mouthing the words. A layer of sweat had started to make his shirt cling to him, and his hair was a little dampened, god he looked good. As the chorus ended, he stopped momentarily to unbutton his shirt a little for some air. His exposed chest was a huge turn on and you moved a little closer to him, but someone pushed through the crowd and squashed you right into each other.

This was the closest you had ever been, your bodies were completely pressed against each other and his cologne was overwhelming your senses. With your hand on his chest you looked up at him, resuming to the rhythm of the song, but the two of you remained close. He made no move to push you away, he just seemed deeply in though. With a last muster of confidence, you turned around and pushed your lower half onto his and felt him harden against you. Glad for the blaring music at that moment, you moaned loudly. For a moment he did nothing, then his hands shyly placed themselves on your hips.

Maybe it was wrong, maybe you should move away and pretend it hadn’t happened, but he pulled you closer by the waist and kept you rooted to the spot. So there was a dominant part in him, this pushed away the doubts you had momentarily and you continued to rub against his hard groin. The song changed to a slower, more sexy one. He hung his head so it was next to yours, and you could feel his sticky curls tangle with your hair. His hands were on your waist, guiding you and every now and then moving higher to just below your breasts. You slid down against him slowly, then slowly pushed your butt up back against his hardness. Just the thought of what the two of you looked like at that moment could send you over the edge.

Unable to resist seeing what he looked like, you turned around and flung your arms around his neck, his hair was wet and messy, some parts sticking to his forehead, and his chest was rising and falling at a fast pace. What made you stop was how he was staring you right in the eye through his locks, like there was no one else in the room, you pondered whether or not to kiss him but it was hot, it was so hot in the room.

You pulled free from what seemed like your wildest fantasy come true and made way to the exist and out into the open air. Professor Reid had followed you outside into the dark lamp-lit street. He mirrored your out-of-breath and at-a-loss-for-words state. “Let’s get back to the hotel, shall we?” he offered after a while, not looking at you and already walking in the direction of the hotel.

You weren't sure if he meant that in the sense of sleeping together or just going back to your separate rooms, but the reality of it had sobered you up a little and you were feeling a little nervous now. He seemed.. angry? or what he frustrated? Things seemed so obvious back on the dance floor but now they seemed cloudy and unclear.

When you finally made your way back to the hotel the nervousness had almost eaten you up, and you were shaking. You and Spencer hadn’t said a word the entire way back, and the silence hadn’t helped your anxiety. He stopped suddenly and you walked into him, not realising you had already arrived in from of your hotel room.

“Do you have your key card?” he finally spoke up, his voice was coarse and full of restraint.

You nodded, turned and swiped the card to open the door. Stepping half inside you peeked around, your roommate wasn’t home yet. When you turned back to face Spencer, he was staring at you with such intensity it seemed to sear holes in you. Boldly, you took a step toward him. He immediately grabbed you by the waist and kissed you forcefully. Inside, he slammed you against the door to close it and swiped his tongue over your lips, then inside your mouth to explore. His hands were all over your body and yours tangled in his long, messy curls. When you felt his soft lips connect with the sensitive area of your neck, you moaned.

“Professor,” you squeaked. Your voice was full of need and earned a rough groan from him.

He picked you up and set you on the counter in the small kitchen. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he said, looking into your eyes, grabbing the back of your neck and reattaching your lips. His words were sending a rush to your core; you needed more friction. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, his hardness now rubbing right against your beating core. He groaned and slowly grinded against you, making you want more. His tall lean figure against yours was too much to handle, it was overpowering and you couldn’t stop the soft whimpers escaping your mouth.

As his large hand massaged your breast and he continued to rock his hips against yours gradually at a faster pace, your eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

He was in the middle of pulling off your shirt when a loud knock on the door made you freeze. He pulled away, eyes wide and lips swollen. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

“Who is it?” You called, your voice (and legs) shaking.

It turned out to be your roommate. The two of you swiftly fixed yourselves up and you opened the door. With the explained that you and the professor were just working on something more for tomorrow’s project session, he bid you goodnight and left hurriedly.

----

The next day you awoke not sure of how to go about things, or if you should just pretend that nothing had happened at all. But all that was not possible at all, you realised, when you saw him that morning. All the events of the previous night rushed at once into your mind and you bit your lip, it wasn’t over. He cleared his throat and shoved a hand into his pocket while addressing the group, his eye contact with you being only brief, yet strong.

During lunch break you wanted to speak with him, and found him in the cafeteria’s far end. Before coming around the corner, you stopped. He was on the phone.

“I know I know, Sweetness, I love you.”

Tears brimmed your eyes, he had a girlfriend. How could you be a wedge between his relationship, you had messed up real bad, but then again, he was the one who kissed you...

You avoided him for the rest of the day, and the next even though he asked to see you twice. Finally you received a text “Can we talk, please?” Yet you still ignored him, and even forced yourself to spend your free time with the group. It wasn’t too difficult avoiding him, but on the last day it was announced that since the group did so well, they would be celebrating at the great club in town - accompanied by the teachers of course.

You groaned. Slowly, anger had started to rise up to you. He was the one who had known he had a girlfriend, not you. He could have stopped it at any moment, but he didn’t. It was infuriating. Revenge may be the best plot. So you put on the sexiest clothes you could find, and met up with the group.

-------------

To be continued... PART TWO AVAILABLE HERE: https://skei-seems.tumblr.com/post/642815872752353280/professor-reid-part-2

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #professor reid #professor reid smut #smut #x reader smut #professor spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #matthew gray gubler x reader

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smoochkooks · 4 years ago

Text

—lost stars, part 2 (m.)

⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst, bits of fluff, (troubled) idol au, childhood friends to lovers

⟶ word count: 20k

⟶ summary: in dead hours of the night he stumbles upon the bars, reaching, searching, trying to feel something, for once forget about consequences and taste the bittersweet freedom. between sips of addiction and faint touches of nameless lovers he finds you again: his own long-lost star on a blackboard sky.

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, soft dom!jk but also bit possessive!jk, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), praise kink, jk calling oc his pretty girl, unprotected sex (stay safe kiddos!), creampie, implicit car sex, mentions of infidelity, smoking, both oc and jk are emotional mess sometimes.

✔ read part one here!

a/n: i’m sorry i keep you waiting for so long but it’s finally here. as i promised, by the end of october. this story has a really special place in my heart, i’ve had it in my drafts for over a year now. i hope you’ll enjoy it!

Twenty-two. No, twenty-three. Or maybe it was actually twenty-two? Jungkook starts counting again.

Various, different certificates are aligned on the wall in front of him, every single one dedicated to the same man, sitting across the table with crossed arms and stern expression. It’s rather obvious his ego reaches far beyond the printed sheets of paper with his name written in swirly fonts. They are here just to make an impression, to fool people into believing that the pastel blue shirt he’s wearing and expensive watch on his wrist are the outcome of his hard work.

He opens his mouth to say something, but it doesn’t reach Jungkook’s ears. He starts counting again; this time the number of letters on the first certificate.

“What do you suggest we should do then?”

The man whose achievements in marketing and public relations Jungkook currently attentively analyzes, is Lee Ilsug, or at least that’s what those diplomas indicate. To be honest, Jungkook couldn’t care less about his name or the list of accomplishments that made him be employed here.

He’s new in the company, that’s certain. Jungkook didn’t have to deal with him before but Yoongi had the unpleasantness though, when he needed to deny the rumours going all around the Twitter about his slightly too close friendship with a female singer he had collaborated with.

Quoting Yoongi, Ilsung was pain in the ass.

“The photo is blurry. It’s debatable whether it’s Jungkook-ssi or not.” Another voice, this time female, cuts in. Jungkook remembers her face fleetingly from some PR meeting he had attended before. It looks like she’s now Ilsung’s assistant. “I checked SNS. Fans are on Jungkook’s side, they don’t believe what that girl had written, which is a good situation for us to interfere and release a statement.”

“What do you think, Jungkook?”

It’s Sejin. He was the one who contacted Jungkook about the ruckus in the company that has been going on since morning. The case is simple: on the day he did his walk of shame out of your apartment, he stopped to light up a cigarette that happened to be another one of his cardinal mistakes he’s made in span of 24 hours. What started with getting the temptation and alcohol got better of him and sleeping with you, ended with someone taking a picture of him while smoking.

It’s truly a miracle the photo’s quality is moderately vague. His mom always tells him he was born under the lucky star but for Jungkook it’s more like fate was playing hide and seek with him. This time, he managed to blend into the shadows in time.

Ilsung clicks his tongue. It’s not a secret he hates his job yet cherishes the money he earns. He pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and leans over the table. He’s close enough for Jungkook to notice the fresh cut from shaving on his cheek and a small, golden cross hanging on his neck.

He raises his brow, eyes trained on Jungkook. Cold, emotionless. Clearly, his ambitions don’t end on dealing with some idol’s reckless shenanigans. “Well? What’s on your mind, Jungkook-ssi? We are ready to release the statement denying rumours about the incident in an hour.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. “But that will be a lie then. I did smoke, it’s me on that picture.”

Next to him, he hears Sejin clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Jungkook, I know it’s unfair but we can’t let it affect yours or boys’ reputations right now. We are a month before the comeback.” he says and no matter how much he tries to make it sound neutral, pulling the ‘what about the rest of the members?’ card is usually the last straw to bend Jungkook.

Jungkook releases a long sigh at that. He feels unworthy. He let down his brothers again, made them worry about him countless times before and that’s what he offeres in return: disappointment. He cannot risk his bandmates’ good name because of his incautious behavior. They sacrificed too much to be where they are now to lose it over a silly scandal.

“Do what’s best for the team.” he decides after a while.

Once he’s out of the office, his thoughts drift instinctively to you. Do you already know about the mess he created? Do you even search through social media, looking for the updates about him? No, you wouldn’t go there, he tells himself. He’s almost sure. He hopes those revelations won’t ever reach you.

Sejin breaks his chain of thoughts, stepping into the elevator after him. “What were you even doing in that part of the city so early?” he asks, staring at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror.

“Does it really matter?”

Sejin’s features soften a little. He’s been with them practically since the beginning. Seen their best and worst, always by their side even when the whole world seemed to be against them. Piggybacking Jungkook out of the practice room because he complained about his feet being sore, joking behind the stage about trivial things when no cameras where around. They trusted him. And he’s never stopped believing in them.

“I told you that million times before. You are allowed to lead your life the way you want, Jungkook. I know how you feel, but as a public figure you have to be extremely careful, first and foremost. People don’t forget, nothing ever disappears from the Internet,” he says, or rather repeats the same mantra he’s been telling them since they broke into the mainstream and started being overly recognizable. “I am here to protect you but I won’t be able to do that if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

He places a strong hold on Jungkook’s shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. Jungkook releases a sigh and the door slides open behind them. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Always, Jungkook-ah. I’m feeling like a father of rebel teenager now.” Sejin laughs lightly to clear the heavy atmosphere, making Jungkook snort.

“Hey, I’m twenty-two!”

Sejin ruffles Jungkook’s hair, ignoring younger’s grumbling protests. The walk into the spacious parking lot of the company and Jungkook suddenly stops in his tracks.

“Does Bang already know about this?“ he asks matter-of-factly, although he’s sure what the answer will be. The confirmation he needs comes with a nod from Sejin. “Is he pissed?” he adds then.

Sejin raises his brows, looking down at him. “His golden boy let him down, what do you think? He might not be mad but he’s sure as hell disappointed.” He gestures to his car and Jungkook follows him without a word, imagining his boss’ sour expression next time he sees him. In Bang’s self-made ranking he’s sitting at last place right now probably.

“Want to grab a proper breakfast with me? I’ve been called into the company while I was in bed. I didn’t even have time to finish my coffee.” Sejin offers, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts.

“Okay.” Jungkook says, hopping in Sejin’s car. “You’re buying?” he asks, mustering a snickering smile even though he’s definitely not in the mood for joking.

Sejin rolls his eyes, fastening his seatbelt. “Don’t you think you own it to me for saving your ass once again?”

“But I’m your rebel teenager kid, remember?” Jungkook pouts. When he sees Sejin hesitating, he opts for another strategy. The one that never fails. “Rock-paper-scissors?”

“Deal.”

Tonight, Jungkook pulls up in front of the club you’re working in with his car. It’s Friday night and he recalls you saying you work here every two weeks. He counted the days three times. There’s no way he made a mistake. He’s sober. And he has no intentions of getting drunk.

You’re surprised when you see him. You haven’t spoken a word for a whole week since he walked out of your apartment. He seems happier when he approaches you, flashing a bunny-toothed smile like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’s good at pretending. That’s exactly what you told him to do - act like the night he stripped you bare and fucked you silly was merely a mirage.

In a way, you’re relieved he makes everything seem ordinary, even though it’s anything but normal.

He waits for you to finish your shift. Tells you he drove here with his car and your eyes involuntarily widen. When you’re standing in front of his black Mercedes Benz, you can’t help but gawk.

“I don’t even want to know how much money this cost.” You take in the all-polished, black glory of his car, muttering “Holy shit” under your breath.

Jungkook chuckles to himself, gesturing for you to get in. You do it without a word, making yourself comfortable on the leather seat. If he manages not to make things awkward, you can do it to, acting as though he isn’t a well-known persona in your country with an addiction for unhealthy lifestyle.

He starts the engine and drives in the direction of your neighborhood, humming to himself the tune playing in radio. It’s awfully domestic, the way he navigates through the streets like he knows them like the back of his hand although you’re aware he’s glancing at his phone once in a while to check the directions. You catch yourself watching him from the corner of your eye with curiosity, biting your lip to suppress the urge to ask him million questions at a minute. Instead, you let him do whatever he has in mind. You can’t ruin this, you remind yourself.

Later that night, you’re sitting in his car in the darkness, parked on the rundown parking lot where no one’s standing expect for you. The only source of light is coming from the single street lamp nearby, illuminating delicately Jungkook’s features in dim, yellowish lighting.

He doesn’t say much. He fumbles with the hem of his jacket almost absentmindedly and you know him well enough to sense there’s something plugging his thoughts. You call his name and he turns his head to the side. It’s too dark for you to spot the tiredness on his beautiful face, too dark to read from his eyes and find all the needed answers in them.

“Is everything alright?” you ask and it sounds awfully loud in a small space of his car. Despite the silent promise you made to yourself about keeping things between you civil, you can’t help but interfere.

Jungkook then whirls on his seat so he can face you fully, flashing you a smile meant to throw all your former worries away. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to sit with you for a while like that, if you don’t mind.”

If anything, it doesn’t cure your concerns but you shove it to the back of your head for now. Nodding at his words, you fall into the distressing silence. The street lamp nearby goes out and if it wasn’t for the digital dashboard in Jungkook’s car, you would have been surrounded by darkness completely.

Jungkook chuckles under his breath and you follow suit. The sudden change in the atmosphere should be taken as a sign to abandon this damned parking lot and go somewhere else, but he looks like he has other plans in mind. Hearing the soft whisper of your name, you start feeling like it all was meant to happen. Him appearing in front of the club, the lights going out and enabling you to read the true emotions from your faces – it’s all like fate is again playing tricks with you.

You don’t know who moves first, crossing the invisible oceans between you and reaching homeland, but the next thing you feel is his lips on yours.

He tastes like the non-alcoholic beverage he drunk earlier, mixed with faint bitterness of his beloved cigarettes and something akin to mint, yet you’re drowning in it, in him, in the warmth of his breath on your wet lips.

You feel the world spiraling in front of your eyes, despite your soberity. You’re moving automatically; leaning into his touch and accepting the kiss with raw passion, welcoming his tongue in your mouth willingly. It should be alarming how good it feels to have him like this, in your arms, teeth scrapping your neck until you’re writhing in your seat. Breathless, he takes the hint, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his lap.

It feels dangerously familiar. You know what’s going to happen next, when he unzips your jacket and places his hands underneath your sweater, relishing in the way you shiver at the coldness of his touch. When he sinks his teeth in your neck and withdraws seconds before leaving a blossoming mark. Yet you make no vow to stop him.

From this exact moment, it’s just a blur of hushed whispers, broken moans and quick caresses that leave you yearning for more. Jungkook acts like he knows your body inside and out, thrusting his fingers knuckle-deep into your heat until you’re keening and begging him for more. And he gives it to you with earnest, coaxing you into an orgasm with one last, final flick of his thumb on your sensitive bud.

Jungkook groans when you palm his bulge through the material of his pants, but he’s too desperate to feel your wetness around him to let you tease him any longer. When you sink down onto him, all of your rational thoughts fly away with the breathy moan you let out in unison with his choked gasp.

It’s fast and ragged, chasing the high that it’s both forbidden yet so craved. And it hurts, when tears well in your eyes, when you’re at the brick of pleasure and you know there’s no way in the world you’re going to experience a desire so raw and overwhelming with anyone, ever again. It hurts when Jungkook picks up the pace and fucks into you with ferocity and anger, because the world is unfair and he’s a slave in the system in which freedom means fucking you dirty in his car when it’s dark out.

And he hates it, hates it so much when you unveil in front of him, whimpering his name hoarsely and tightening around his cock deliciously. He swallows every sound you make with his mouth, clenching his teeth because the pleasure is right there, but he needs an extra push to throw himself over the edge. It’s his name on your lips and the whimper of “Inside, please” that finally makes him snap.

Then, there’s only guilt and laboured breaths. In his self-made list of mistakes, you’re aiming for the top.

Grocery shopping has never been your favourite thing to do.

You would never quite enjoy doing it, not due to the constant anxiety of forgetting about buying something even if you make a list of products beforehand, not when you don’t have enough money to buy a little extra than needed (thanks to the dear capitalistic world we live in).

Right now, you’re standing in the middle of an aisle with cereal, trying to look as much casual as possible so people passing by wouldn’t suspect you to be a wanna-be thief. The cause of your distress sits at the very top shelf and there’s no way in hell you’ll manage to snatch that Reese’s Puffs without knocking everything over.

Defeated, you raise your hand to take your second option (good, old Corn Flakes), but a familiar voice coming from the right stops you in tracks.

“Need some help?”

Twirling on your feet, you’re now standing face to face with Kihyun – Minho’s friend from work. Smiling sheepishly, you nod. “I do, actually. Can you pass me these ones, please?”

You feel stupid asking that but fortunately, Kihyun doesn’t seem to mind your awkwardness. You talked to him briefly a few times before thanks to Minho, who took his friendship with him as far as to go on a double date together.

“So, how are you?” Kihyun asks, placing the cereal box in your cart.

“I’m good, thanks. I assume you’ve been also doing well,” He raises his eyebrows at that and you clarify, “Minho told me you got promoted lately. Congrats, chief Yoo.”

“Ah, yeah, thank you,” There’s a tiny bit of pink covering the apples of his cheeks when he waves his hand dismissively at your comment. “But it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I’m sure working in a homicide department is a big deal,” you say. “And I heard it requires some extra shooting training as well.” you add, alluding to what Minho has told you the day you read the message on his phone from someone named Soyeon.

To your surprise, Kihyun furrows his brows in a manner that could only mean he’s confused. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Hiding your astonishment with a light laugh, you explain, “Don’t you go to the shooting range with Minho after work? He told me so a while ago.”

Something akin to realization crosses Kihyun’s face. He shakes his head. “Yeah, we went there together once or twice but recently he’s training there our new recruit, Soyeon.”

His words punch you right in the guts. Minho lied to you. He wouldn’t come up with that shitty excuse if he didn’t have something dirtier to hide, right? Maybe you’re exaggerating, but he certainly hasn’t been truly honest with you for a while now. It must be a reason behind his strange behavior.

“Are you okay?”

For a moment you’ve forgotten you’re in the middle of the grocery store with your boyfriend’s friend. Shaking yourself off your unpleasant thoughts, you send Kihyun an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. I just remembered I need to go to the pharmacist’s and they’re closing soon so I gotta hurry now.” you lie. He doesn’t look like he entirely bought your story but nevertheless, he bids you goodbye.

You leave the store with half-empty shopping bag, raging headache and a torn heart.

They say silence can speak more than any exchanged words.

It hovers in the air, heavy and overwhelming, a tension primed to snap at any moment yet it has never happened before. There’s always quiet, no hushed sentences, half-lies or stuttered confessions leaving quivering lips.

Sometimes you wonder when will you have enough. When will you be able to resist, to say you’re hurting so bad it aches right in your heart, like there are tons of bricks lying on your chest, suppressing your breathing. And maybe this is the night.

A few unread messages on your phone, next one popping up and the screen lights up.

[1:23pm] jungkook:

i need you

It pains, a dull ache and suddenly there isn’t enough air in the room. [1:24pm] jungkook:

please

He never begs. It doesn’t suit him. There is too much pride and power inside him to crawl in front of you, to fall to his knees and plead. Yet, you falter, shaking fingertips typing a quick response. When brain screams fuck you, you don’t deserve me, a sight of him makes all the rational thoughts go to hell.

He stands in your door, slender body leaning against the frame. You haven’t seen him for a while, a week or maybe two. His skin is pale, sheer and delicate you worry it might break if you trail your fingers over it. There are bangs under his bloodshot eyes and you know he had trouble sleeping again. It hurts seeing him like this, beautiful and broken but you’ve always loved picking up the damaged pieces.

He smiles, a lopsided smirk you know oh so well, a dark amusement because here you are, pliant under his gaze, vulnerable under his every command.

“Hello, doll.”

It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you grimace. Nickname he uses only when you’re stripped bare for his liking, bend to his will. It means he’s been drinking. Probably the expensive whiskey you hate the taste of so much when it lingers bitterly on your tongue after each swipe of his mouth against yours. “Will you let me in?” he then asks although he already knows the answer.

It’s cruel of him how he uses your weakness. You hate seeing him like this, hate when he’s thrown apart and you’re the only one who knows how to fix him. That’s why you move away from the door in a silent invitation, biting your lip when you see his slouching posture and unsteady walk.

It hurts when you help him sit on your bed and he smiles at you lazily, in all his beautiful yet broken glory. You almost don’t recognize him. It’s not your Jungkook. Your Jungkook would never drown his misery in alcohol, he would never sit in your room barely conscious, smelling of cheap bars and cigarettes.

But you accept your fate the way it is.

“I need to sober you up a little. I’ll go get you a glass of water, okay?” He hums in response, although you’re worried it might have not reach his ears at all.

Jungkook looks up when your back, accepting the water and drinking it with eagerness. “You’re too good to me, you know that right?” he slurs a little once he’s done. “I don’t deserve you.” he adds after a moment, cupping your cheek with his unoccupied palm.

You squeeze your eyes shut because you fear you might break down in front of him if you look him in the eyes. He strokes your skin, murming “I’m so sorry” all over again.

You stay like that for a few beats of silence, breathing in each other’s presences until you hear Jungkook’s phone buzzing in the pocket of his jacket. Taking it out, you see ‘Jimin-hyung’ written on the screen. “Your friends are worried about you.” you murmur, nudging his side.

“Tell them to go to hell.” You hear him muttering under his breath. Sighing, you decide to exit the room and answer the call.

“Jungkook? Where the fuck are you?!” Jimin’s angered, thick with Busan dialect voice rings in your ears, making you flinch. “You should’ve at least answer my text once so I would know you’re okay!”

Mustering the courage, you take a deep breath and say, “Hi, it’s Y/N speaking. Jungkook’s friend.”

There’s a pause on the other side, until your hear Jimin clearing his throat. “Oh, hi. Is Jungkook maybe with you?” he asks and you smile to yourself involuntarily noticing how his voice has changed once he realised he’s not speaking to his friend.

“He is. Drunk, but in one piece.” you reply, sparing a glance at aforementioned Jungkook who’s now slumped down on your bed, probably fast asleep.

Jimin sighs with relief. “That’s good then. You know, we got into a little fight today and he suddenly disappeared without a trace, and we are right before the comeback so–”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you interrupt his rushed rambling. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Thank you, Y/N-ssi. It means a lot.”

‘’I’ve been taking care of his ass practically since we were kids, so it’s not a big deal for me,” you chuckle lightly, even though you’re definetely not in the mood for jokes. “Well, maybe not in that way but still.”

“I know. He told me about you.”

Your eyes widen. “He did?” you ask, failing to hide the surprised tone of your voice.

“Yeah, he did. When he first told us he met his childhood friend accidentally in the club he got drunk in, we didn’t believe him at first. But then he slowly started opening up more about you and even showed me some picture of you and him when you were kids.” Jimin says. “You know, Jungkook hasn’t been himself for quite a while. He kept pushing us away but ever since he met you, he’s started smiling again. Please, promise me you’ll never hurt him.”

You release a shaky breath. “I promise.”

It’s easy to promise such thing. Because you’re for sure going to end up being hurt first.

It’s your alarm that wakes you up the next morning.

The sight of Jungkook is long gone, the only proof he’s been here in your bed last night is an empty glass on your bedside table and a small note written on the napkin.

Thank you for everything. I really don’t deserve you.

Jungkook.

Sheets have gone already cold underneath your fingertips where he laid beside you just hours ago. You didn’t get much sleep the night, watching his beautiful, pale features illuminated by the moonlight slipping through your window. He looked so peaceful with his chapped lips slightly parted and in that moment, you couldn’t think of any reason to hate him and what he’s doing to you.

Later, when you’re finally out of uni, you come home and take a quick shower. It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays are reserved for your small dates with Minho. The guilt you’re feeling while getting dressed and fixing your makeup is eating you from the inside. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you almost don’t recognize the shallow of a girl you’re seeing.

You are not a bad person, you keep reminding yourself, then why did you sleep with him that night? Let him crawl into your bed again and again after?

Minho waits for you outside in his car. He’s taking you to a new Thai restaurant and you manage to hide the frown on your face, because your dear boyfriend forgot you don’t like this type of food.

“You look pretty tonight, babe,” he says once you’re inside, waiting for your orders. You smile at him briefly. “It’s really been a while since we went out together, hasn’t it?”

At that, you nod curtly. It’s true, you haven’t seen each other last week at all. Minho ditched your usual Wednesday date in favor of staying at work for something important. It happened second or third time this month. You feel like you don’t have right to be mad at him. If anything, that’s what you deserve for lying to him behind his back.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly. Your food arrives, you act like you don’t feel nauseous chewing on your pad thai and trying to break out the taste with red wine. Minho babbles about the new Netflix series he’s started watching and you’re pretending to be intrested. Wednesday date at its finest.

Then, when you’re about to pour yourself another glass of wine, Minho stops you with his hand on yours. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,” You fight an urge to roll your eyes. He wants to discuss serious matters? What a change. “We’ve been together for eight months. My parents keep asking about you.”

“Oh,” you blurt out. To hide your anxiety, you force out a breathy laugh. “So, what about them?” you ask, however you already know what the answer is going to be.

“I thought we could visit them soon in Daegu over some weekend when you don’t have work,” he proposes, squeezing your hand as if to calm your nerves. It’s not doing much to put you at ease. “My mom has already started making plans what food she should make. They’re really excited to meet you.”

You feign a smile. It should be a natural progression for couples to take things at a time, step by step but you can’t help but feel uneasy. Minho wants his parents to meet you, the girl who lets a certain raven-haired boy play with her heart and mess with her head. In a sick game where both parties are out of reach, you’re terribly losing.

“I’d love to meet your parents.” you say finally, almost breathless.

“You don’t look very excited.” Minho comments with a smirk and you know he’s joking but the lump in your throat only grows.

You smile meekly. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. What if they won’t like me?”

“I’m sure they’re gonna love you. You don’t have anything to worry about.” he dismisses your concerns, reaching for the wine bottle to pour himself a glass. “I’ve got one more thing to tell you. I know it’s a lot for one evening but I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for weeks now so since we have this opportunity now, I’m gonna use it.”

Color drains from your face. What else is there to converse about all of a sudden? Biting the inside of your cheek, you give him a sign to continue.

“I’ll go straight to the point. I want you to move in with me,” The bomb explodes and you nearly drop your wine glass to the floor. “I know it might be a lot for your but I really, really want to see you every day in my bed. My apartment is big enough for both of us but once I get the promotion my boss talked to me about last week, we can look for something fancier.”

You stare at him blankly. First his parents, now this? Minho from the beginning of your relationship was the one who liked to take things slowly. He didn’t kiss you until your third date, he waited unnecessary amount of time to have sex even though you told him over and over again you were more than ready to do it with him.

The sudden rush feels weird. As if sensing your discomfort, Minho clears his throat and asks, “Don’t you want to move in with me?”

You notice the subtle change in his voice, the way he’s not as enthusiastic as he was a minute ago but you shove it to the back of your head. “I’m surprised,” you respond neutraly. “And of course I don’t mind living with you. I just thought you wanted to take things slow.”

Minho clicks his tongue. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m not asking you to marry me, Y/N,” he chuckles but you don’t mirror the sentiment. “I think it would be more comfortable for you to live with me than your current cubby-hole.”

He’s already irritated by your reaction and you know it’s better not to poke the bear but those three glasses of wine down your throat give you enough courage to disagree. “Your place is further from my university and work. Not to mention I have a five minutes long walk to the underground now and it would take longer for me to get there in your area.” you point out.

“You can get a driving license then finally.”

You frown. “What do you mean ‘finally’? You know damn well I can’t afford it now with the job I have and student loan. We talked about it before.”

Minho is aware that with your current financial situation you’re barely making ends meet and you can’t let yourself have another, bigger expenses. But you’re fine on your own, you don’t mind living where you do because that’s the result of your independence. You showed your parents you are able to study and work without their extra help. You’re proud of yourself for that.

“Now you’re literally making excuses. Just say you don’t want to move in.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you try to reason. “I’m not ready for such a big step yet. I need more time to think about it.”

Minho snorts, rolling his eyes. “What else is there to think about? Either you say yes or no!” His raised tone catches attention from the family sitting nearby and they send curious glances in your direction.

“Stop being so loud, please. We are in a restaurant for God’s sake.” you whisper-shout.

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” he snorts, obnoxious and annoyingly snarky.

You stay quiet for a moment, debating whether you should give up entirely and hang a white flag or wait for the atmosphere to clear on its own. But you’re so, so tired. Tired of being lied to. Tired of always having to choose your words carefully and bending to his will.

“You know, I met Kihyun the other day at grocery store,” Minho doesn’t seem much interested in your inquiry, still deeply frustrated with your tantrum. He simply hums, unfazed. “I congratulated him on his promotion. He for sure needs to visist shooting range more now, doesn’t he?”

Minho arches his brow. “Yeah, I told you he goes there with me and that new recruit.”

It’s ironic, how easily he can lie to you straight in the eye. But you’re strong enough now to fight back. “That’s interesting actually, because Kihyun said something totally different.” you say languidly, watching your boyfriend narrowing his eyes.

“And what is that?”

“He said you’re going there only with your new recruit, Soyeon. The one sending you messages on your private phone.”

Minho gapes at you for a few short seconds and then, bursts into laughter. “What are you trying to insinuate here, honey?” he asks.

The petname sounds mocking this time. Ignoring his lighthearted approach to the situation, you dodge a bullet. “I’m not insinuating anything yet. I just pointed out that you lied to me.”

“Lied? That’s bullishit. I would never lie to you.”

“But you did, Minho. The day I asked you who Soyeon was after reading the message on your phone. You said you’re visiting shooting range with her and Kihyun after work sometimes. Turns out it’s just you and her after all. Isn’t that a lie?” you press.

Minho doesn’t like being backed into the corner. When you confronted him first, he thought he had everything under control. Now, he’s losing it and he isn’t used to being that helpless.

“So what? Maybe I told you that so you wouldn’t freak out and think I’m cheating on you. Because that’s all it is about, right? You think I’m fucking someone behind your back.” he snaps, making you wince.

“I didn’t say that.” you counter but there’s no use for that. You stepped into the lion’s den.

He aprubtly stands up from his chair and the cutlery on your table clutters. “You know what? I’m done. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit anymore.” He withdraws his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and throws a few bills onto the table.

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips. “Your’e leaving? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Are you going with me or not?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I guess someone has to finish this bottle. It would be a shame to waste such expensive wine.” you say, mustering a sarcastic smile.

Minho doesn’t utter anything more to you. He nods and exits the restaurant, leaving you sitting by the table alone. Despite the stares, hushed whispers and an urge to run away and hide from the audience, you stay a little longer and drink up that damned bottle of wine until there’s no droplets left inside.

Once you’re outside, you inhale greedily the fresh air. Your head spins a little and you’re debating whether to take an Uber home or just walk thirty minutes on your own to sober up a little. You choose the latter.

You don’t know what makes you dial his number. You’ve never done that before. He was the one calling you in the middle of the name and begging without words to tend his wounds. Tables have turned, and here you are.

You call once, twice. After the fifth attempt you give up, showing your phone into the pocket of your coat. As the first tear rolls down your cheek, you realise he would never be there to pick up your pieces.

Three missed calls from: Jungkook

[11:11pm] jungkook:

I’m so sorry y/n. I couldn’t pick up the phone cause we had late practice

Please call me back. I’m worried

Two missed calls from: Jungkook

[11:36pm] jungkook:

At least text me if you’re okay

Please

[11:39pm] me:

I’m fine

[11:39pm] jungkook:

Thank God

You sure you don’t wanna talk?

[11:41pm] me:

Maybe next time

[11:41pm] jungkook:

Okay

Night, miss grumpy

You’re sitting in your favourite cafeteria, typing furiously on your laptop the last paragraph in your assignment. Your philosophy proffesor has been a bitch lately, telling you to write essays about the most uninteresting stuff she could possibly think of. And here you are, writing about Hegel’s triads, reminding yourself the semester soon will be over and so will be your mandatory philosophy classes.

Taking a moment to sip on a caramel macchiato you ordered, you notice a message popping up on your lockscreen.

[10:45am] jungkook:

Do you have time now?

I need to tell you sth

It’s been two days since your date with Minho. You’re still mentally flogging yourself for calling Jungkook that night repulsively because of your tipsiness. In that exact moment, he was the only person on your mind you could talk to. Once the fresh air cooled down your emotions, you realised how stupid your idea was.

With slight resistance (and raced heartbeat), you type a response.

[10:46am] me:

I guess

[10:46am] jungkook:

Great. I’m gonna call you now

Eyes widening, you stare at your phone. What is so important that he cannot just text you instead? Not even a minute later, you hear buzzing. Exhaling shakily, you answer it.

“Hi, Miss Grumpy,” Jungkook says and you could tell by the tone of his voice he’s in a good mood. He sounds like the old Jungkook you know well. It’s a pleasant surprise. “What’s up?”

“You called me to ask how am I doing?”

Jungkook chuckles and something inside you flutters hearing that. “And what if I did?”

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Let’s just say it’s unusual of you. Shouldn’t you be at some dance practice right now?” you ask.

“We just ended a company meeting. And this is exactly the reason why I’m calling you.”

“Should I be scared?”

”Not at all. I’m gonna move straight to the point,” he says and your pulse involuntarily quickens. “Are you free next weekend?”

You bite your lip. There’s a part of you that wants so bad to counter with “What? Do you need a booty call?” but you don’t let your facade break that easily. Instead, you tell the truth. “Yeah, I am.”

“Would you like to go with me to Busan then?”

You nearly spill the coffee onto your laptop. “Oh.” You can’t quite hide the surprise in your voice. You would never expect him to propose you such thing, yet here you are.

It’s been a while since you were home. Not like you don’t want to see your parents, it’s actually the opposite. The reason you haven’t been in Busan for months is simple: you don’t have extra cash on the side to afford a two-way train ticket.

Sensing your bewilderment, Jungkook takes your silence as a sign to explain further his sudden proposition. “Our company gave us few days off to relax before final comeback preparations so I decided I could go home,” It’s what he says and unsure of what to answer with, you only hum in response. “You told me some time ago you haven’t seen your parents since Christmas so I thought you might accompany me.”

Something squeezes in your chest hearing that. You fail to hide the smile creeping on your features and despite the many obstacles that should be a warning sign for you to say no, you find yourself reminiscing in the idea of spending a weekend at home with Jungkook. Just like old times.

“Okay. I agree.”

Upon hearing your response, Jungkook breathes out a sigh of relief to the phone. “I thought you would ditch me.”

“Excuse me? Who do you think I am? I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to eat my mum’s bulgogi.”

You can’t ignore how you’re feeling, cheeks flushed and a silly smile stretching on your lips. But there’s still that bugging thought present at the back of your head, reminding you of your illicit affair and every mistake you’ve made so far. Maybe agreeing to a small trip down childhood memory lane is one of them.

Right now, sitting in a cafeteria and talking on the phone with Jungkook about the details and your mum’s cooking skills, you pretend like you’ve turned back the time and everything else is a mere drawback to deal with later.

“I can’t believe I agreed to do that.”

That, is a blatant lie. You know damn well why you’re standing on the pavement in front of the building you live in as Jungkook pulls up with his high-priced, straight-from-the-salon black Mercedes. Something ignites in your lower stomach at the mere memory of what you’ve done there inside last time.

When he exits the car, you disregard as best as you can the aloof feeling in your chest, seeing him adjusting his bucket hat further down. This is the life he’s living, you remind yourself. If he wants to minimize the risk of people with preying eyes recognizing him.

Dressed in all black, he comes up to you and lifts his head up. That’s when you see him fully for the first time since he stumbled through your drunk and barely conscious. He smiles widely approaching you, not an ounce of uncertainty in his movements when he wraps his arms around you in a bear hug.

“What’s that for?” you mumble.

“Just missed you.”

He smells like the flowery fabric softener you know he likes. It almost lulls you into paying no mind to the thumping of your heart against your ribcage and redness blossoming on your cheeks.

It almost makes you forget he’s not yours, and you will never be his.

You’re the first one to withdraw, stepping away. “You’re such a sap.” It’s the first thing that comes to your mind to say after such intimate moment – twist it into something without depth and meaning you’re so afraid of facing.

He shrugs, still smiling. “I’m just happy we’re going to spend some time together with our families.”

You know he is. Jungkook has always been a family person. Moving out at a ripe age of fourteen paradoxically strengthened the bond he has with his parents and brother.

He picks up your bag from the ground and throws it into the trunk next to his. Getting into the car, you mutter, “You know, I tweet ‘eat the rich’ every two days but you are safe from my hatred for high class as long as you drive my ass with this expensive car to Busan.”

Jungkook chuckles, starting the engine. “Thanks for your kindness, love. Good to know I’m pardoned.”

“Jokes aside, I mean it though. I might want Jeff Bezos to rot in hell but at the same time I think you deserve that money because I know you worked hard to achieve it.” you say, buckling your seatbelt.

He spares you a quick glance and arches his eyebrow. “I didn’t know you are actually a fellow comrade Y/N, Miss Grumpy.”

“Oh, boy. Follow me on my private account. You’ll see then how radical I can get.”

You earn another laugh from him and you find yourself getting more and more comfortable in the situation, sitting in his car and venturing onto a weekend trip to your hometown. The perspective of spending a couple of hours with Jungkook in the same car doesn’t seem to bother you as much as it did the whole week before.

Tapping the unknown rhythm on your thighs, you reach to press what you think might be the radio button. Your aren’t good with modern technology, so you smile triumphantly to yourself, hearing the first tunes blasting from the speakers.

The slow pop-ballad ends and radio host announces next song as ‘fan favorite’. You look out of the window for a short while just to be brought back to the reality by the sound playing in the background. You know this song more than well.

“No. We are not listening to this.” Jungkook reaches to change the radio station with a speed of light, but you swat his hand away.

“Jesus christ, stop being so dramatic. I love Blood Sweat and Tears! It’s a masterpiece.” you protest.

“I thought you don’t listen to our songs.”

You gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Excuse me? I’ve been to your concert twice, dumbass. And I’m saving up money for another.”

That, is true. You like listening to BTS not because of Jungkook (though he might one of the reasons you fancy them) but it’s their music and message in general. Now, since they’re over their badboy phases and objectifying women in every ‘love song’, you’re fond of them even more.

You start humming Namjoon’s part when Jungkook cuts in. “Okay, then. Who’s your bias?” he asks.

You don’t miss the way he seems to grip the steering wheel tighter. Of course he would be that petty to ask you this. To entertain yourself a little, you quip, “Take a wild guess.”

“It has to be Jimin-hyung.” he says right away.

You shake your head. “Boo. Try again.”

“Namjoon-hyung. You bit your lip when he started rapping his part.”

“That’s bullshit. Namjoon’s hot but not my type. And you should keep your eyes on the road, buddy.” Placing your fingers on his chin, you turn his head away.

Jungkook sighs. “Who is it then?”

“Taehyung.”

Hearing your response, he snorts. “I should’ve known that.”

“And why is that?” you ask, trying to hide your amusement.

“Because he’s the most good looking from us all. He dresses stylishly,” You could tell by the tongue in his cheek you’re irking him right now. Adding to the irony, Taehyung’s part in the song comes blasting from the speakers. “He has a nice, deep voice.” Jungkook adds and before he can name another positive trait of his friend, you chime in.

“Is somebody jealous?”

Though you’re clearly making fun of him, he decides to chuckle like he doesn’t give a fuck anyway. “Jealous? Of Tae? Please. I have no reason to be.”

Smirking to yourself, you find his demeanor too entertaining. “That’s good then. Because I think you’re handsome too. And I love your voice when you sing.” you say, turning your head to the side to observe his reaction.

No matter how much he tries to hide it, clenching his jaw and giving you an eye roll, there’s no use for that. The blush covering his cheeks gives him anyway. His agony ends with one last beat of the song.

Hiding a yawn behind your palm, you lean back onto your seat. Last night you didn’t get as much as you’d like to and your four hours long drive to Busan seems like a great opportunity for a compensatory nap.

Drifting off to sleep, the last thing you remember is Jungkook’s hands on the steering wheel and his soft voice humming the song playing in the radio.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up. We’re almost there.”

Slowly opening your eyes, you’re met with familiar-looking streets of your hometown, Busan. You jerk abruptly, straightening your posture. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” you ask, looking to your left at Jungkook.

He shrugs in response. “You looked like you didn’t want to be waken. And trust me, I know what it feels like to be brought back to reality from a good nap too early.”

You don’t dwell on that more. Instead, you look out of the window, greedily drinking in the city. You’re now driving through downtown, passing by shining skyscrapers. Both yours and Jungkook’s houses are situated in a more peaceful area of Busan, closer to the sea. That’s why you spent most of your childhood and teenage days there as long as the weather was merciful.

Spring has always been your favourite time of the year but spring in Busan hits different. You don’t have an occasion to sit by the sea and watch the sky burning in orange and red in Seoul. Here, where you used to grow up, spring is the cherry tree blossoming, your mum planting vegetable seeds in her small garden behind your house, you and Jungkook smoking cigarettes underneath the pier while the sun hides behind the horizon.

“Did you tell your parents you’re coming?” Jungkook’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“No, I didn’t. I want it to be a surprise for them.”

“Oh, that’s cute.” he comments curtly and turns right. You’re approximately thirty minutes until you reach your destination. “I need to talk with you about one more thing before we get there.”

You focus your sight on him, however he seems to avoid your eyes. You give him a sign to continue. “Go on.”

Jungkook rubs his forehead with his hand and then sighs. It’s a nervous habit of his, you recognize. “I just want to apologize for causing you so much trouble. Not only last time but in general,” He stops at the red light and cocks his head to the side to look at you. “I acted like a complete dick and you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry for everything. I thought this small trip here would be some sort of redemption for me, I don’t know.” The lights turns to orange, then to green and he focuses his eyes on the road again.

Reaching over the gearshift, you place a hand on his thigh to get his attention. When he peeks at you with the same, round, sparkly eyes you’ve grown to adore, all you can do is smile softly. “I’m okay, Kook. If that’s what you need, I don’t mind helping you. If only it means you’ll be okay too.”

Perhaps he notices the sadness in your eyes when you say it. Perhaps he can tell your smile is not the happiest he’s ever seen. If he does, he chooses to stay silent. Instead, he nods. Taking his action as a sight to withdraw, you straighten on your seat.

“There’s one more anything, actually,” Jungkook adds after a while.

“What is it?”

“You’re invited to a party.”

“What party?” you ask, brows furrowed.

‘’We are celebrating Junghyun’s engagement.” he says casually.

Eyes widening, you let out a shocked gasp. “What?! Your brother got engaged?”

Jungkook sends you a look. “Jealous, buttercup?”

You roll your eyes. “I told you I had a crush on your brother when I was ten. It’s been twelve years since then. Twelve!” you exclaim, but he only smirks in response.

The reason you liked Junghyun as a kid was simple: he was your best friend’s older brother. He was just there yet unreachable at the same time.

(And he didn’t have as many pimples as Jungkook.)

But Junghyun getting married? That is a news to you. You clearly remember him telling you one day he would never form a serious relationship before he reaches thirty. Looks like he made up his mind.

“I’m just pleasantly surprised he decided to settle down. Junghyun has always been more of a free soul when it comes to dating. I even remember your mum throwing him a tantrum during barbecue because of this.” you say.

“Honestly, I’m not that shocked. You should’ve seen him looking at Hyerin during our Christmas dinner. This boy is whipped.” Jungkook chuckles.

“Your parents must be happy.” you comment absentmindedly.

He nods, the corners of his mouth stretching in a small smile. “Yeah, they are. They really like Hyerin. And considering they won’t be getting grandchildren anytime soon thanks to my line of work–” he trails off, “–they are even happier that hyung is settling down.”

The air seems heavy now inside Jungkook’s car. He said an obvious thing you were aware of but something aches in your chest at the thought.

You will never understand why there’s so much stigmatization surrounding idols dating other people. Wanting to be loved by someone is a natural, human need. Prohibition won’t magically stop them from catching feelings.

But there’s also another side of the story – the one Jungkook referred to. In his line of work even if there are no obstacles, it’s hard to maintain a long-lasting relationship. And he knows that.

You still remember vividly his first girlfriend. Her name was Eunbi and she was one of their manager’s daughter. Her dad used to take her to the MV sets, introduced her to the boys because she was a fan of them. And that’s how she met Jungkook.

Jungkook, age seventeen, was too shy to hold a proper conversation and keep eye contact with a girl at the same time but somehow, him and Eunbi got along pretty quickly. They shared a sympathy for the same video games and for Jungkook back then it was enough to fall head over heels for her. She was his first kiss as he told you (”First real one, because I don’t count that peck Jisoo gave me in fifth grade as a kiss.”)

After that moment you decided you’d never like Eunbi. Not because you were furiously in love with him, no.

You just didn’t want to see him form such a close bond with anyone else but you.

Their fairytale love story ended when Eunbi’s father found out about their secret randez-vous. Jungkook sulked for a week and then eventually got over Eunbi.

(And he was again texting you about that video game you had no interest in but you pretended to be a good substitute for Eunbi and her nerdiness you lacked.)

“What are you thinking about?”

You’re standing on the red light again. Glancing at Jungkook, you find him staring right back at you. “I’m wondering whether I’m invited to the wedding.” you lie.

“Of course you are. I’m sure hyung is going to do it officially tomorrow,” he answers with a grin. “I think Taehyung is coming too. He loves weddings.”

Narrowing your eyes, you reply with a saccharine sweet voice, “It’s about time you introduce me to your bandmates. Especially Taehyung-oppa.”

“Oppa?”

You bite your lip. There’s no doubt you did that on purpose. You find it rather amusing to see Jungkook so worked up over such a silly thing. You wonder how far you can go before he finally snaps.

Smirking to yourself, shrug your shoulders. “The light’s green. Watch the road, Kookie.”

Jungkook huffs, shaking his head. It’s approximately fifteen minutes until you reach your destination. “I’m sure you will be delighted to meet him.” he says with enough amount of sarcasm for you to know he’s irritated.

“Oh, I will be over the moon.”

“Good.”

“Amazing, even.”

You hope he doesn’t notice you failing to maintain a serious expression.

You moved with your parents to your new house in Busan at the age of eight, two ponytails, overalls and sparkly sneakers every kid wanted to have adoring your small frame, a look of pure concern worrying your childish, chubby features.

It was a quiet neighborhood, on the suburbs of the town, a row of similarly looking terraced buildings and small gardens in front of them, every single one akin to the other. There was nothing distinctive about the area, it screamed dullness and tedium but for years you have grown to call this place home.

You know every corner here inside out. A local grocery store owned by a lovable, elder woman known as Miss Kim, who always has spare candies underneath the counter for children who come to buy something for their parents. Next to the store, there is a florist’s. Your first, high school part-time job. The intense smell of roses makes you nauseous to these days.

There is also your primary school, huge backyard behind it with a run-down playground. You never minded it though, spending there probably too much time for your parents liking. Many memories were made there. First, innocent childish peck placed on your cheek from a 6th grader named Jinyoung. Twisted ankle, tears, pain and regret because you decided to jump off the highest step of the climbing frame one Friday afternoon after classes. A punch to the face of school’s bully Dongin, who called your new pair of Converse trainers ugly.

It was exactly fourteen days before the end of August when you met Jungkook.

You had been living in the new house for almost a month but still felt too insecure to explore the neighborhood. Most of your time you were spending inside, missing your old friends and reading books to distract your attention from the approaching start of the second semester in school.

It was probably one of the last scorching-hot days of the year and you were sitting in your garden alone, family’s cat named Leo purring on your lap, when all of a sudden a ball bounced on the grass right in front of you, landing perfectly at your feet and almost scarring Leo to death.

And then, you looked up and saw him.

A pair of big, black doe-like eyes hidden behind a fringe of onyx hair staring at you through the fence curiously. The boy was not much older than you, probably around your age. He was wearing a striped football t-shirt with some popular team name.

You fidgeted slightly on the pavement where you were sitting, glancing at the boy shyly like you didn’t know why he was looking at you so intensely. You noticed a small scar on his left cheek, his knees were bruised, splashed with dirt just like his sneakers.

“Can you give me my ball?” he asked suddenly, startling you.

Your eyes widened. Of course he would talk to you, you scolded yourself, he wants his ball back.

When you didn’t answer immediately, he continued, “I kicked my ball here by an accident. Can you give it to me?” He pointed at the object lying at your feet.

You nodded and picked up the ball from the ground. You threw it over the fence, so it landed directly on the other side.

“Thanks.” the black-haired boy said. “I’m Jungkook, by the way. What’s your name?”

“___.” you responded and the boy, Jungkook, grinned at you friendly, showing his bunny-like smile. He looked cute.

“Bye, ___! See you tomorrow!” he beamed and headed back to his house.

Tomorrow. He wanted to meet up with you and what? Play football? You were petrified, as the eight-years-old girl should be after hearing such thing from a boy.

And just like he promised, Jungkook visited you the next day. He took you to that playground behind your new primary school. You came home with bruised legs and splotches of dirt on your skirt, to your mother’s dismay.

You also came home with a content grin plastered on your face and a new friend.

Unexpectedly, Jungkook appeared to be a pleasant company and you found yourself enjoying his boyish bickering while fulfilling the rest of the summer break doing things your old friends would consider inappropriate for a girl.

You never thought you could be friends with someone like Jungkook. He was a boy, for God’s sake, and your eight-years-old-barbie-phase-self absolutely despised boys. But months passed quickly and you both found yourselves stuck to each other sides. Something in your relationship simply clicked.

The neighborhood you grew up in isn’t a suburban area but it definitely seems more peaceful than busy streets of downtown. You pass by local church, miss Kim’s store and the big, luxurious house owned my Gwon family you dreamt of living in when you were a kid.

And then, approximately two hundred meters further, there is your house.

“Here we are.” Jungkook says, pulling up at his parent’s driveway. They left the gate open, anticipating their son’s arrival.

Jungkook hands you your belongings, offering you sheepish smile. “I thought that once you unpack and eat dinner, we could go to the beach together,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Of course, only if you want to.”

You don’t give his proposition a second thought. “I’d love to.”

He grins in response and you take it as a sign to leave and finally meet your parents. From the distance you see your mother in the garden, dressed in her usual clothing – black and red checked shirt and cropped denim pants she wears while gardening.

She doesn’t notice you yet, too busy pulling weeds from her precious tulips. You know her better not to creep behind her like that, so you take a deep breath and shout, “Eomma! It’s me!”

She stands up and twirls around to face you. Her eyes visibly widen, like she actually thought her mind is playing tricks on her and she might have misheard you.

“Good Lord, Y/N, sweetie, is that really you?” She throws away her gloves and jogs up to you, enveloping you immadietly in a bear hug. “I missed you so much. Why didn’t you say anything you’re coming?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you mumble. “Jungkook took me with him.”

At that, your mother pulls away. She arches her brows. “Jungkookie is home as well?” she asks, earning a nod from you in response. “You’re talking with him again?” Her voice is laced with apparent bewilderment but that’s exactly what you expected her reaction to be like.

Your mother is aware you and Jungkook haven’t been keeping in touch for three long years. She was basically your only source of information about him (besides Twitter) thanks to her close friendship with his parents.

“That’s quite a long story. I will tell you everything later.” you say. Well, maybe not entirely everything. You’re for sure going to miss out the parts you’re not proud of.

Your mother doesn’t press you more about it. Instead, she puts her arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “It’s your lucky day sweetie, because we have your favorite bulgogi for dinner. Honey, come here quick!” she shouts and you chuckle, hearing your father responding with: “What is it again?”.

The door to your house creak open, revealing your flustered dad. His expression morphs into a genuine smile when he spots you. “Is it really my daughter or are my eyes deceiving me?” he asks.

‘’Your eyesight is fine, appa. It’s really me.” You come up and give him a small hug. He was never the affectionate type of parent but once you moved out, he let his facade break a little.

From where you’re standing now, you have a clear view of Jeons’ house. Here, fourteen years ago, sitting on your porch, you met Jungkook for the first time. You see his window upstairs, alligned perfectly with yours. You wonder if he’s already there, inside, unpacking in his blue-painted childhood room.

(What if it isn’t painted blue anymore?)

“Come on, let’s go. You’re probably starving.” your mother says, pulling your mind back to the present.

Walking into your house, all you can think about are his tears-filled eyes when you were bidding him goodbye almost ten years ago in his blue bedroom.

It takes you more or less thirty minutes to reach the bay.

When you were younger, you used to ride there by bikes practically every single day during summer. You loved sitting on the beach and observing people enjoying their time; swimming in the sea, kids building sand castles and their mums trying to relax among childlike chatter and the smell coming from nearby fishmonger’s store.

It was Jungkook who discovered the spot underneath pier. His curiosity only a twelve-year-old can posses led him there one day after school. At first, you were rather reluctant to go and didn’t mirror his excitement but once he actually showed you it, you changed your mind completely.

It was a perfect place to hide from the world. You called it a ‘temple’ because it really felt like no one beside you knew about its existence, and that’s what made it sacred to you. When Jungkook moved away you were left to go there by yourself. Without him, it always felt like it was something missing.

Right now, sitting here feels like you’ve you’ve turned back the time.

It’s like you’re eighteen again, running away from the whole world, starting your own rebellion with a cigarette caught between your lips and sun disappearing behind the horizon. Listening to the songs Jungkooks had saved on his old iPod and catching up with everything that happened during the last few months when he was absent in your life.

When you were eighteen you didn’t even know how to smoke properly, blowing out the fume too quickly and stiffing a cough so Jungkook wouldn’t laugh at you. Now it’s a different story.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you notice how much he’s changed physically over these five years that have passed. Gone is the baby fat on his cheeks, replaced with sculpted jawline and prominent nose. His hair is longer, falling on his forehead. There’s more piercings on his ears, an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist.

He looks breathtaking. It never occurred to you before just how beautiful Jungkook really is up close, when there’s no flashing cameras around and make-up covering every imperfection on his face with concealer.

This is your Jungkook. The same one whose competitive nature never let you win any of his computer games, who called you after their debut showcase with quivering voice, who always treated you as his equal even when other boys were making fun of him for being friends with a girl. Your Jungkook, who’s too good for this world to be treated so unfairly.

“I think Minho is cheating on me.” you blurt out.

It’s been sitting on your tongue for weeks and now you finally let the words slip. You don’t see his reaction but from the sharp intake of breath you assume it’s not something he’s expected to hear from you.

“Few weeks ago I read a message on his phone from some girl asking when he will be free next time,” you continue before you could stop yourself. “He’s been meeting with her alone behind my back this whole time and I didn’t notice anything until now.” A pair of arms wrap around your frame. Jungkook presses a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head. “I don’t even know if that’s true or I’m overreacting but I just can’t understand how he can lie to me one day and the next propose to move in with him.”

You don’t realise you’re crying until you feel Jungkook hugging you closer to him. You burry you face into his chest as sob after sob shakes your body. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispers, stroking your hair. “I’m here.”

Few minutes pass until you calm down, wiping your tear-stained cheeks with your hand. Jungkook offers you a tissue and you thank him with a small smile. You can only imagine how ridiculous you look right now, with smudges of mascara underneath your eyes and red nose. Not a sight for sore eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just needed to get it off my chest.” you say after a moment.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Y/N. If you need to talk about it, I’m here for you. I’m still your friend, right?” Jungkook asks, meeting your eyes.

You nod, although he’s anything but friend for you. “Right.”

Because friends don’t console each other with burning touches on bare skin. They don’t give into carnality and submit to pleasure, putting it before everything else.

From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook’s jaw clenching. “I’m gonna kick his ass when I meet him.”

Before you could stop yourself, you mumble, “He should probably kick yours, too.”

Jungkook visibly stiffens, hearing your words. He avoids your eyes, staring down at his lap instead. You wonder what he’s thinking about now. Does he regret his actions? Do you regret letting it happen? No matter how much you know you did wrong, there’s a part of you longing for more. Because with Jungkook, you felt alive. Minho could never compare.

Reuniting with Jungkook after three years made you realize just how much you needed him back in your life. You actually stopped being mad at him the moment he stood in your room for the first time that night, disheveled and sleepy.

You could love him. Perhaps you’ve always did. But he cannot give you more. Nothing besides bitter-sweet pleasure between the sheets.

It’s Jungkook who speaks first.

“I might not be the best man in the world but I would never, ever hurt you like Minho does,” he says and you know he means it. He stares at you intensely. “You do believe me, right?”

“I do.” you whisper truthfully.

He then leans closer and when you think he might actually kiss you, he places a small peck on your forehead. ‘’Good,” he murmurs, still inches from your lips. “Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late and I can practically hear my mum already complaining she doesn’t have enough time to spend with her son.”

You nod aabsentmindedly at his words.

There’s a tough conversation for you to have once you’ll be back in Seoul again. Finding out about Minho’s lies was a point of no return for you. It made you realise you’ve been on this path with your relationship for a while now, missing signs or not paying enough attention to the details.

But what is even more disturbing to you, is that you didn’t let Jungkook warm your bed out of simple frustration or heartache. You did it because you wanted him. And that thought scares you the most.

The first thing Jungkook hears in the morning when he wakes up is the high-pitched chatter and the clutter of pots coming from the kitchen.

He sighs to himself, staring at his blue ceiling. The clock on his bedside table reads 10am and at this rate, it looks like he won’t be getting any more sleep, not when his mum and soon-to-be sister-in-law are making a fuss downstairs preparing for the party.

The strong smell of homemade food invades his senses as soon as he enters the kitchen. He spots his mum putting something in the oven, her usual red and white polka-dot apron adoring her form. Hyerin is right next to her, busy cutting some vegetables and listening tentatively to her mother-in-law’s babbling.

“Good morning.” Jungkook says in a groggy voice followed by a yawn.

“Morning.” Hyerin quips, flashing him a smile.

Jungkook’s mother barely acknowledges his presence, too busy moving around the kitchen and making sure nothing is burning or overcooking. Feeling the first rumble of his stomach, Jungkook opens the fridge and stares blankly at its contents.

Miss Jeon runs her house by the rule the more, the better when it comes to preparing food for special family occasions. Hence why there’s so many different type of products lined up in front of him, just begging to become a remedy for his empty stomach.

“Nu-uh, don’t even think about it!” she chimes in, closing the fridge in front of Jungkook’s face and crushing his dreams about having egg toasts for breakfast. He stares at her with confused expression. “Order yourself something for breakfast, please. We need kitchen to ourselves right now.”

Knowing better not to argue with his mother, Jungkook sighs in defeat and opens the food delivery app on his phone. He chooses the first option that comes to his mind that won’t take too long to make and slumps down onto the couch.

“Eomma, where’s dad and hyung?” he asks, debating whether to turn on the TV or not. He decides on leaving it silent.

“I sent them to the grocery store. They should be back in two hours,” she responds. “Hyerin-ssi, please make sure to keep an eye on the soup. I’ll be right back!” The door to bathroom slams behind her and Jungkook chuckles under his breath.

“Is she giving you hard time?” he asks Hyerin once he knows his mother cannot hear them.

Hyerin looks up to peek a glance in his direction. “Your mum is a lovely person, really, but she can be… a lot sometimes. Especially when she’s stressed.” she says, smiling coyly.

“Tell me about it.”

She lets out a laugh that quickly dies down when aforementioned woman emerges from the bathroom. Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, she makes her way to Jungkook. “What are you planning to do after breakfast, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook shrugs because honestly, he hasn’t given a thought it yet. “I don’t know. Maybe I can help you with something here.” he proposes, although cutting onions and cabbage is the last thing he would like to do.

Fortunately, the grimace on his mother’s face tells her she’s not quite fond of his proposition. “Oh, no, no, no. We’re perfectly fine on our own with Hyerin-ssi. We don’t need extra pair of hands. Why do you think I told Junghyun to go with dad?” she asks rhetorically with raised eyebrows.

Of course Jungkook knows why. Kitchen is his mother’s kingdom. No one steps a foot there while she prepares food unless she permits it herself. Today she’s even more uncompromising about it because it’s the first time Hyerin parents are meeting Junghyun’s. It’s the matter of making a good impression as the host.

“Maybe you could call Y/N and ask her what her plans are? I’m sure she won’t be very busy.” Jungkook’s mother prompts and he feels like he’s ten again, bored on Saturday and wondering what to do with himself. Then, an idea pops in his mind.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he agrees. “I’ll call her.”

Maybe a literal trip down memory lane is everything he needs to feel like himself again.

As predicted, at first you welcomed his idea with a little bit of qualm, yet you said yes nonetheless.

And now here you are, hanging out together at the playground behind your old primary school. Getting there wasn’t an easy task, it required some parkour abilities and jumping over the fence because the place is apparently being locked on weekends now. Ten years ago it used to be your life estate on Saturdays.

You’re currently sat on a swing, watching Jungkook doing pull ups. You have a nagging suspicion that he chose to go on with his daily workout routine right now on purpose but you’re not better yourself, doing rather poor job at ignoring the way his hoodie rides upwards with every move he makes, revealing his toned abdomen.

“Okay, I’m done.” he grunts, letting go of the bar. He plops down on the other swing next you with a heavy exhale. “How many was it?” he then asks, referring to the number of pull ups you were supposed to keep a track off.

For a moment you forget you’re supposed to answer, eyes focused on Jungkook’s throat as he chugs down the whole water bottle.

“Hmm?” he repeats and you quickly snap out of your trance.

“I lost count.” Truthfully, you didn’t even make an attempt to do so. You were too distracted by the act itself to pay attention to anything else, let alone do basic math. Now you do understand all these girls going crazy when they get a glimpse of his sculpted body.

Jungkook rolls his eyes in response and starts swinging himself back and forth. It you recall correctly, he lost one of his front baby teeth here, jumping off the swing.

“I thought a lot of would change here after so many years. But it looks exactly like I remembered it.” he says, slowing down to a halt.

You nod at his words. Apart from a little painting and renovations done here and there, it’s like it all got stuck in time. You’re about to add that your mother told you the infamous principal Choi is still consistently running the school, but Jungkook doesn’t let you vocalize it.

“Wait,” He stands up suddenly and walks to the seesaw swing. You furrow your brows as he crouches on the ground and attentively observes the object, presumably searching for something. “A-ha! Here it is! I knew it still would be there.” he exclaims excitedly after a few seconds.

Confused, you come up to him. “What are you doing?”

“Look,” he says, pointing at the wooden base of the seesaw. At first glance you don’t notice anything but as you get closer, you see what he meant.

Jinyoung + Y/N = ♡ engraved on the swing.

“Oh my god.” you groan, covering your face in embarrassment.

Jungkook ignores your whining and actually snaps a picture of his finding. “You know what’s actually funny? It was me who did this because you didn’t have enough strength.” He giggles, making your cheeks heat up in bright shade of red. “I stole my dad’s pocket knife for it. Such a shame your love story lasted only a week.”

“I’m not listening to you!” you announce and quickly come back to your previous spot on the swing.

Jungkook doesn’t give up easily though, enjoying tormenting you with your pre-teen love life. He follows you, asking, “Wasn’t he your first kiss as well?” You keep your mouth shut, avoiding his eyes. He then clasps his hands. “Yeah, I remember now. Sixth grade. He kissed you here, am I right?”

You wish you could wipe off that smirk from his face.

“I never liked Jinyoung,” he continues, sitting down next to you on the second swing. “But I always wanted to have that black range rover his dad drove.”

Your face heats up even more at the mere mention of Jinyoung and his dad’s car in one sentence. Jungkook can make fun of your silly crush as much he wants, but he doesn’t know one thing.

That your little infatuation had a sequel.

Taking a deep breath, you lean closer to him and ask, “Wanna know a secret?” He sends you a curious look and nods. You brace yourself for what is about to come. “I lost my virginity at the back of that range rover.”

Jungkook chokes on air. His eyes widen in pure shock and you have to fight an urge to laugh at how ridiculous he looks right now, gaping at you with mouth wide open. “What the fuck, Y/N?! Tell me you’re joking, please.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I wish but unfortunately, that’s true. We went to the same high school and somehow… our paths crossed together again.” you explain.

“And you decided to fuck him in his dad’s car?”

“No, dumbass. We were dating. For whole six months.”

Jungkook sends you a look. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not like we were talking back then,” you reply sheepishly, toying with the edge of your sweater. Suddenly it’s hard for you to meet his scrutinizing stare. “You stopped responding to my messages a little before I started dating him.”

The atmosphere between you tenses. Jungkook’s expression morphs from astonishment into guilt and you curse yourself for ruining the mood.

Jinyoung is just a mere memory, one of many mistakes you made during your teen years. He wasn’t anyone special to you anymore, he never had been. Not even when he deflowered you on the backseat of his dad’s car one night after some party. You were too drunk to care and too inexperienced to do more than just lie there and take it. With your skirt hiked up and blouse mid-open, wondering if Jinyoung was just as clueless as you when it came to sex or he simply didn’t know how to pleasure women.

What Jungkook doesn’t have to know, is that you jumped into the relationship with Jinyoung to fill the void your best friend created three years ago with unanswered messages and never returned calls. You were lonely in high school, you couldn’t manage to form a close bond with anyone after Jungkook. You hoped Jinyoung was good enough for a replacement.

“What about you then?” you ask to clear the atmosphere. “I told you my secret, now you reveal me yours.”

To loosen up the tension a bit, you decide to play the quid pro quo card. Partially out of curiosity, but mostly because you feel like you’ve exposed yourself too much in a short period of time. It will only be fair if he gives you the same in return.

Jungkook smiles bashfully. For the person who had done many dirty things to you before, he sure looks shy now. “I was nineteen as well. She was a friend of a friend, four years older than me. We met a party, flirted a little and one thing led to another,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never seen here after that. She tried to contact me but I just… I didn’t want to commit to something more.”

Is he ready for more now? you wonder silently. The question stays at the tip of your tongue though. You can’t wish for more when everything he’s able to provide is a few, quick moments of blissful relief between the sheets when sun goes down.

But what if you want more? What if you’ve always, subconsciously, felt like you belonged together but universe decided to split you apart? What if you’ve always been in love with your best friend?

The realization hits you like a tsunami. All these years, you spent denying your feelings for him. And when there’s a chance for you act on them, you back away.

Because even if he’s now inches from you, he seems out of your reach.

By the time you gulp down your third glass of champagne, Jungkook’s brother’s engagement party is in full swing.

Junghyun and Hyerin didn’t invite many people to celebrate. It’s a small, family gathering. Your parents were invited thanks to the almost twenty-years-long friendship with Jeons, which started when you moved into the new house next to theirs.

Jungkook looks painfully handsome dressed in black suit pants and emerald green button-up shirt. His raven hair is styled the way you like the most, parted in the middle and revealing his forhead. You, on the other hand, are wearing a simple, long-sleeved navy blue dress you’ve had on multiple occasions before but it’s still your top go-to garment when you have nothing else to put on.

“Have I told you look great tonight, buttercup?”

Turning around, you’re met with Junghyun’s smiling face. Of course he would approach you with his childhood nickname for you that used to make your heart flutter.

Besides his hair color, there’s little resemblance between him and Jungkook when it comes to appearance. While Jungkook took a lot after their father, Junghyun is almost a cardboard copy of their mum. Even their characters are two polar opposites. Junghyun is the more outgoing, boisterous type but Jungkook still tends to act introverted towards strangers.

And paradoxically, it’s the younger brother who’s making a career in entertainment industry.

“Shouldn’t you be complementing your fiancée instead?” you ask, accepting another glass of Martini Junghyun hands you.

“As you can see, she’s busy being interrogated by my mother.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Hyerin nodding along to whatever miss Jeon is telling her right now, expressively gesturing. It’s her brand to do so. Your father says that she talks with her mouth and hands simultaneously.

“I’m sure Hyerin-ssi went through it already when they were preparing food together earlier today.” you joke.

Junghyun chuckles, having a seat next to you. He sends quick, supportive thumbs-up to to his girlfriend when she glances at him from the spot she occupies on the couch. You can’t help but coo at the sight.

“So,” you quip, “when’s the wedding?”

“Next year in August,” Junghyun answers. “You’re obviously invited as well.”

You smirk around the champagne glass. “I wouldn’t miss seeing my childhood crush getting married.”

Junghyun laughs at that, throwing his head back. After a moment he adds, “It’s funny though, how you were gushing over me when the boy who had heart eyes for you was right under your nose.”

You arch a brow. “You mean Jungkook? He had a crush on me?”

“If course he did. You were the only girl who talked to him and moreover, you always helped him with his homework and you know how bad he was at algebra,” Junghyun says, sending you a knowing look. That much is true. Jungkook did suck at Math and could not, for crying out loud, interact with girls. “If he could, he would’ve taken you with him to Seoul all those years ago.”

Your eyes involuntarily drift to aforementioned boy, standing with his father in the kitchen. They are looking at something your dad is showing them on his phone, probably pictures of the car he recently renovated.

(A classic Chevrolet Camaro 1969. For all you know it looked like Damon’s car in Vampire Diaries.)

You can see Jungkook’s eyes growing big as he stares down at the screen. Obviously, he’s genuinely amazed with what he sees. You can only hope your dad won’t try persuading him to sell his luxurious Mercedes and buy something vintage instead.

“Why didn’t ever tell me that?” you ask, your voice quivery. You take another gulp of your drink to soothe the emotions bubbling in your chest and you barely succeed.

Junghyun shrugs his shoulders in response. “Would it change anything? You were thirteen-year-old kids back then and he was moving out to another city to make his big dream come true.”

Pursing your lips, you nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

You don’t know exactly what Jungkook feels for you right now. Back when you were teenagers, it was just a fleeting attraction. Perhaps he thought about you this way because you were a girl who liked spending time with him.

“I know him giving up your friendship was a dick move but you have to believe me that this boy has been really lost these past three years. Now he’s trying to find himself again, to become a better version of himself,” Junghyun remarks. “He needs his best friend to help him do so.”

Turning once again to look at Jungkook, you catch him staring right back at you. He flashes a cheeky grin and completely fails winking at you. You’re lips automatically stretch into a smile seeing his goofiness. You like that side of him. It suits him.

“I think I need to go save my fiancee from my mother.” Junghyun whispers, catching you off guard. He follows your line of sight and smirks to himself. “Go talk to him. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind snatching Jungkook for a bit.” Unlike his younger brother, he lands a perfect wink.

Like beckoned, Jungkook approaches you when Junghyun leaves the table. “Aren’t you a little sad he’s getting married, buttercup?” It’s the first thing that night he says to you.

Fighting an urge to snort, you ask, “Aren’t you tired of being jealous I chose Junghyun-oppa as the object of my affection and not you when we were kids?”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, manifesting his irritation. You relish in it even more now, having the knowledge he used to pin after you. He ignores your witty retort though completely.

“Want to get out of here for a while?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Where?” you blurt out, looking around the room for any place comfortable for you to stay in for a while.

“Isn’t it obvious?” When you raise your brows in question he adds, “To your house, of course.”

“But–”

He shooshes you with a finger on his lips. “No buts, Miss Grumpy. It’s been ages since I’ve been in your room. Do you still have that Edward Cullen’s poster above your bed?” he asks and this time, you actually land a punch to his arm.

Downing the rest of your champagne, you get up from the chair. “Shall we?”

“Ladies first.”

“I still can’t understand why did you really hang a poster of some pale dude above your bed.”

You’re climbing up the stairs to your room, and Jungkook is in the middle of his rant about Why Twilight Has Ever Been A Thing. You’re ten seconds from pointing out his teenage female crushes one by one, starting with IU just to rile him up.

“It’s just weird for me,” he huffs upon taking one last step to the top.

You whip your head to send him a glare. “Do you really want me to say the same thing about your fans worshipping your posters?” you ask, eyes narrowed. “You’re out of their reach just like Edward Cullen was out of mine when I was fourteen.”

He points his finger at you. “But he’s a fictional vampire and I’m real.”

“Exactly!”

You leave him with that, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and open the door to your room.

“So you did get rid of him after all.”

Nothing really much changed in your childhood room since you moved out four years ago. Your walls are still painted in lavender but the posters are long gone, much to Jungkook’s dismay. There is a bookshelf with all your favorite positions (Twilight included) standing directly next to the desk which is now pearl white, just like the rest of your furniture.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook plops down onto your bed. “You still got them though,” he murmurs and you glance in his direction, waiting for him to elaborate on what he means. He raises his finger to the ceiling. “Those yellow stars that shine when it’s dark. You have the same in your apartment in Seoul.”

“Oh, yeah,” you awkwardly reply, looking up. “I put them there so I can have something reminding me of home.”

Truth to be told, you are a sentimental person. The very best evidence of your heart’s weakness is the corkboard with old photos in your apartment. As cheesy as it might sound, it gives you a sense of comfort.

Jungkook hums at that and pats the spot next to him with his hand. “Come lay with me.” he proposes.

“Why?” you ask, although you sit down on the bed anyway.

“Because I want you to,” he grumbles and places his palm on your stomach, pushing you to lay flat. “There you go.”

It reminds you of old days, how you used to lay down with him like that on your bed and just do nothing, simply staring at the constellations on your ceiling in silence or speaking about trivial things.

Life was much easier back then, when there was no cameras flashing around and capturing every move your best friend makes. When you were just two kids with head full of dreams and dragging on forever doing your Chemistry homework. When you were each other’s beginning and end, yin and yang, sun and moon and the starry sky above you.

It slips off your tongue eventually, what have you been meaning to ask him since the beginning of your illicit affair. And now it seems like you’ve finally reached the point of no return. “What are we, Jungkook?”

You turn your head to the side, staring at his right profile. His chiseled jawline, black lashes ghosting the skin of your cheeks. He opens his eyes slowly, focusing his sight on you but you quickly look away.

“You know damn well that we aren’t just friends anymore. Maybe we’ve never been,” You sit up straight from your position, finally gaining enough courage to face the matter. “You can’t play with my emotions like that and expect me not to catch any feelings for you. You’re confusing me so much, Jungkook. I don’t think I can go on like that any more.”

You feel his palm on the small of your back, comforting and bringing you a brief wave of solace. He follows suit, getting up from his position as well. “Look at me,” he murmurs and you jerk your head to the side. You don’t want him to see you like this again - vulnerable and exposed. “Please, ___.”

It’s his pleading voice that makes you succumb to his request. Hesitantly, you accept his touch on your cheek and meet his doe eyes, two black charcoals shining in the dim lighting of your childhood room. He has the same look in them as you saw the first time he kissed you. If the teeth worrying his bottom lip are anything to go by, you could mistake it for nervousness.

“I shouldn’t feel that way about you,” Jungkook finally says. “I shouldn’t wake up with an urge to text you because if I didn’t, my day would be incomplete. I shouldn’t picture us doing mundane things like cooking ramen in your apartment or picking you up from work,” he recites, voice laced with an emotion you can’t quite put the name on. Or maybe you do.

It’s longing.

“I shouldn’t imagine us being together because I can’t give you all of these things, ___.” Lone tear slides down your cheek and he catches it with his thumb. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You’re shaking your head, because no, he shouldn’t apologize for the world’s unfairness, for wanting to have more of you, of freedom. “Jungkook–” you start but he’s quick to interrupt you.

“I told you this before and I’m repeating it now: you deserve so much better than what I can give you, ___.”

He tries to distance himself, to back away and leave because that’s what he’s a master of but you beat him to it, extending your index finger and poking him right in the middle of his chest. “Now you listen to me, Jeon Jungkook,” you urge, not caring about your tear-strained cheeks and shaky voice. “I’m a very stubborn person, and you know that. If I wanted to leave you, I would’ve kicked you out of my apartment the day your drunk ass stormed back into my life.”

He smiles sheepishly, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “And why didn’t you do that?” he asks, his palm not leaving your cheek.

“Because more than anything, I’ve never stopped caring about you,” It’s almost a whisper. “No matter how hurt I was, I couldn’t let you slip away from my reach again.”

And then he’s leaning even closer, lips almost touching yours yet it feels like it’s not enough. It’ll never be. “___,” he murmurs your name softly, breath smelling of champagne hot on your skin. You feel dizzy, drunk on him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You both know it’s a white lie, that as soon as you’re back in Seoul the reality will brutally kick you in but you let yourself for a moment indulge in this fantasy – that you’re his and he’s yours. You’re on the opposite sides of the spectrum, yet you cannot be separated.

And you need to hear him say it.

“Promise?”

Jungkook seals it with a kiss, the one that leaves you breathless and pliant in his arms, blindly reaching for him and pulling him closer with your hands on his neck. “Promise.” he whispers, eyes trained on yours.

For now, it has to be enough.

Then, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer, he dives in for more, hands finding purchase on your hips. He’s tugging you closer until you’re perched on top of his thighs, feeling the hard flesh flexing underneath your weight. It feels familiar; that funny, pulsing sensation building up in your core when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip to meet yours. It makes you tangle your fingers in his black locks and pull, just to hear him groan into your mouth.

But there’s another pressing matter on your mind and before you can go any further, you’re pulling away from his lips with a light smack. Jungkook doesn’t take the hint though, anchoring your hips over his crotch.

“Wait,” you mumble in between kisses, biting down the moan that almost tears from your throat when he uses the grip on your body to grind down on him. “What about the party? What if parents will come home and–”

“Shhh,” He silents you with a peck on your quivery lips. “They won’t. The party has barely started. And even if they do come home, you’ll just have to be quiet, right?” Something about his tone makes you nibble on your bottom lip to suppress a whimper. He sees it, and leans down to kiss your throat. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, angling your neck to give him more access. He sucks a mark right above your sternum and it almost distracts you from asking him one more thing. “Jungkook,”

He licks a stripe up the column of your throat and looks at you, lips shining with saliva. “What is this?”

Despite the urge to kiss him stupid right here and there, you cup his cheeks and repeat the same question that led you to this very moment. “What are we?”

Jungkook looks like a living sin with his blown out pupils and disheveled hair yet his gaze is nothing less than affectionate. He brings one of your hands to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. “Whatever you want us to be,” he responds, sincere. “You know I never give up without trying.”

You nod, a small smile dancing on your features. “I know.”

He captures your mouth in another kiss, like he’s trying to prove his statement with actions; sucking, biting, kneading your supple flesh just right. Suddenly there’s too many clothes separating you and your fingers grip his silk shirt in faint attempt to satisfy your yearning to feel him fully.

As if reading your mind, Jungkook stops mid-decorating your neck with yet another red mark. “Get up and take off your dress for me, baby.” he says, all soft but still demanding enough to make your knees wobble. As much as you love the dominant side of him, you’re enjoying this new-found softness of his.

You comply to his request in an instant, raising from his lap to a standing position. Your fingers travel to your backside and pull the zipper down. Your dress falls on the floor with light thud, leaving you in your underwear. It’s matching but not your best pick nonetheless; simple black lace bra and cotton panties. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, two antsy hands gently pulling you closer to him until you’re in between his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a feathery kiss on your belly. You let out a shaky sigh, trying to avert your gaze away from his burning stare but he destroys your attempt. “Don’t shy away from me now.” A squeeze to your hip is a warning. You give in, looking down just to see him smirking right back at you.

“I won’t if you take off your clothes as well.” you challenge despite your trembling voice.

He gets up, towering over your figure. “Undress me then.” Your shaky fingers reach for the buttons, opening one by one. He watches your movements attentively, lets you run your palms over his broad chest. His silky shirt joins your dress on the floor as you fumble with his belt buckle.

There’s something intimate about this moment. It’s not the first time you’re seeing each other naked yet everything feels new, unchartered. You’re exploring each other again, mapping your bodies with subtle touches and observant eyes.

Jungkook strips off his slacks, steps off his shoes along with socks. He sends you a cheeky grin. “Now we’re even.” He swallows your giggle with his mouth, not wasting any more time and pressing you against his body.

You moan when you feel his erection touching your hip. He uses it as an opportunity to slither his tongue inside, each experienced lick making it hard for you to follow his tempo. You go lax in his hold, letting him snap your bra open. He maneuvers your body until you’re laying on your back and he’s straddling your waist.

“So pretty,” he marvels, palms caressing your breasts. Your nipples harden under his ministrations, breathy moan escaping your lips when he pinches them. “Such a pretty baby.” he repeats, lost in touching every part of you he can reach.

Jungkook peppers kisses on your belly, hands travelling to your thighs. He leans to kiss you on your panty-clad mound. You mewl at the sensation, unconsciously sliding your legs wide open and giving him more access to your center. “Can I eat you out?” he asks, continuing mouthing over your pussy. When you don’t answer him in time, he slaps your thigh in reprimand. ‘’Hmm?”

“Please,” you whimper, mind send into overdrive. Minho rarely went down on you and you almost forgot how good it feels to have someone’s mouth on you.

Jungkook grasps your underwear and pulls it down your legs, revealing your dripping pussy to his hungry eyes. His breath tickles your folds, sheets grasped tightly between your fingers. Jungkook kitten-licks your pulsing clit, eyes trained on your face to see every small reaction he emits from you.

“Jungkook,” you keen, hips rising to chase after his mouth.

He nibbles on your thigh playfully, flashing you a sly smile. “What do you want, doll?”

It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you whine pitifully at him. He relishes in it, sucking your clit into his mouth as an apology for his teasing. You whimper, “Please, I want more. Give me more.”

‘’Demanding, are we?” he snorts but complies anyway. No matter how much he loves hearing you beg, he enjoys eating you out more. He covers you your pussy with his mouth, tongue swiping over your sensitive numb. He licks up clean your soaking slit, not missing a single drop of your pearly arousal.

He groans at the taste and throws your legs over his shoulders. He pulls you even closer to him until his face is burried between thighs. Your fingers wander to his hair on their own accord, threading into his silky strands. After a harsh suck he abuses your clit with, you pull. It spurs him on even more, a groan mouthed against your pussy causing even more slick to drip down your opening.

“Tell me how good it feels.” he mumbles, glancing up at your face. You focus your sight on him, his chin is shining with translucent substance, hair tangled and sweaty against his forehead.

“So good,” you mewl.

“Yeah? That good?” Jungkook asks, tone almost mocking. You’re now only nodding in response, your cunt pulsing with a need to release. “Can you cum for me like this, baby?” he mouths along your folds.

“Please, please,” You’re nearly crying, tears pricking in the corners because the pleasure is too much to bear. Your clit throbs, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Oh my god–Kook!”

“Good girl,” He rewards you with two slender fingers pushing inside your pussy, searching for that one stop that makes your insides flutter. “My pretty baby, tastes so sweet for me.” he rasps before licking a stripe up your cunt.

His digits slide even deeper into you. It sounds sinfully wet but you don’t care, accepting whatever he gives you. And give does he, plunging his fingers repeatedly inside and flicking his tongue against your bud – a perfect symphony to finally send you over the edge.

“There you go,” he murmurs, feeling your walls tightening around his fingers. More juices leak out of your hole and he drinks them up eagerly. “My pretty girl doing so good for me.”

He prolongs your orgasm until you stop him with a breathy whimper of, “’m sensitive.”

Jungkook gets up to hover over your shaking body. He opens your mouth with a deep, wet kiss. You taste your arousal on his tongue, feeling no longer foreign and eliciting a moan out of you. His length presses against your hip, hard and straining his briefs. With a surge of boldness you reach down, rolling his underwear off his body. His cock slaps against his abdomen, curved tip leaking precum.

Nibbling on your bottom lip you watch as his hand encloses around his member, giving it a few pumps. He groans, head thrown back. Your eyes focus on the sweat dripping down his sculpted body all the way from his neck down his chest. Jungkook is a sight for sore eyes– slim waist, toned thighs. Everything about him is mesmerizing.

He settles between your legs, cock prodding at your folds. “You sure?” he asks, searching for your eyes.

You don’t answer him verbally this time and he doesn’t press about it. Instead you open your legs even wider, a small smile dancing on your features as you nod. You’re welcoming the stretch with a drawn out moan. He pushes himself inside slowly, until he’s flushed against your pelvis, his neatly trimmed pubic hair tickling your skin.

“Fuck,” he curses, hands coming up to grip your sides so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave fingertip bruises. “You’re so perfect, baby. Made for me.” He leans to press a kiss on your mouth, tongue lazily lacing with yours. It’s messy, saliva trickling down your chin but you don’t care, reciprocating with vigor.

Jungkook pulls away and places one last peck on your cheek. “Ready?” he murmurs.

You couldn’t be more than. “Ready.”

He picks up the pace, blindly reaching for your legs to make you encircle his waist. You’ve never fucked in this position before, with him so close to your face you could practically taste the sweat dripping off his body on your lips. He relishes in having you like this, palms caressing every square inch of your flesh.

‘’God, I missed having you like this, doll,” he grunts. He props his hand next to your head and it gives him leverage to hammer himself faster into your cunt. “Do you like how I’m fucking you?” he asks and you keen in response. He doesn’t seem to be satisfy with your reaction. “Too fucked out to speak?” You hear him chuckling evily into your ear.

“Shit, Jungkook,” you whimper, throwing your hands over his neck. His skin his hot and slippery under your touch. He rams himself even harder into you, hips never losing the rhythm. You feel the pressure building up in your abdomen already, reducing you to mewling mess underneath him. “I-I love it. So, so much.” you stammer out.

“Yeah?” he prompts, fingers slipping down your belly to toy with your clit. “Love how my cock is fucking you?”

“Yes, yes–fuck,” you chant. “So good.”

He loses himself in you, in the way how tight you feel around his cock. He tells you this, spits filthy obscenities into your ear and punctuates it with deep strokes inside you. He wants to have you like this forever, keep you to himself and hide from the whole world.

It’s selfish of him to think that way but he can’t help it, not when you’re moaning so pretty when he tightens his grip on your waist and rails you harder into the mattress. Not when you’re there when he needs you, when you’re his lifeboat bringing him back to the land (sanity).

He wants to see you smile for him, because of him. Wants to call you his. And that’s what he asks you to, begs in stranded voice. “Say you’re mine,” You’re shaking your head, tears threatening to spill from your eyes but he needs to hear you say it even if it’ll be just this once. “Please, tell me you’re mine, ___.”

Your whole body shudders from pleasure. You open your quivery lips but nothing comes out of it except for a broken whimper of his name. “J-jungkook–”

“Please,” he pleads once again, entangling your hands from around his neck and pinning them over your head instead. “Say nobody will ever make you feel this way. Fuck you until you cry,” he continues, fingers circling your nub with ferocity. “Fucking say it!”

You sob, pleasure rippling through your body and throwing you off the edge. “I’m yours,” you whisper hoarsly, staring into his dark orbs. “Yours, yours, yours!” you repeat, creaming his cock with your release.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans and you don’t know it’s because of your confession or your walls constracting around his member. Maybe it’s the mixture of both. “You’re mine just like I’m yours.” he spits as the orgasm approaches him, shuddering through his whole body. He comes with a call of your name, spilling himself inside.

You whimper at the sensation, your arousal mixing with his and dripping from your hole. Jungkook lets go of your wrists, pressing a peck on each of them. His palm cups your cheek and he leans down to kiss you. It’s lazy, your mouths barely moving but it feels good anyway.

He’s in the middle of pulling his softening cock out of your core when you hear your mum’s voice.

“___, honey, are you here?” She’s downstairs, approximately forty-five seconds from reaching your room.

Jungkook sends you a panicked look. “Go lock my door!” you hiss.

He obliges quickly, naked butt jogging across the room to twist the key. You can’t help but giggle as he tiptoes to the bed again. He puts a hand over your mouth and murmurs, “Shhh, be quiet.”

Your mum’s heels clink on the stairs. Few seconds later she’s knocking on your door. “___, are you there?” she asks. You’re praying she won’t twist the handle because in that case you’ll have a lot of awkward explaining to do. Fortunately, she gives up. “I guess they went for a walk.”

By ‘they’ she means you and Jungkook who’s currently stifling a laugh against your shoulder. “Well, maybe not for a walk but something equally energy-draining.” he whispers. You elbow him in the stomach, making him chuckle even harder.

When you hear the door to your house closing, you let out a breath of relief. “I knew fucking in my childhood bedroom wasn’t a good idea.”

Jungkook smirks. “You sure about that?” he teases, squeezing your hip. It makes you roll your eyes but you don’t hide the smile on your face afterwards anyway.

Jungkook reaches for your panties and rolls you onto your back, carefully cleaning you up and then himself. He tucks you beneath the covers, encircling your body with his arm. You relish in the heat radiating of him, pressing your cheek right where his heart beats.

“You’ve never told me what would be my biography’s title.” Jungkook says after a moment.

You smile to yourself, fingertips drawing patterns on his skin absentmindedly. “I’d call it ‘Lost Star’.” you answer.

“Because I’m a troublesome celebrity?” he chuckles and you shake your head.

“Well, of course you can interpret it like that but for me it has more of a metaphorical sense,” you explain. “You’re a star, like those on the sky, which got lost and came to Earth instead. That’s why you’re so special. Because you’re out of this world.”

“I’m no special,” Jungkook grumbles, pouting.

You sit up from your position to look him in the eyes. “You’re wrong, Jeon Jungkook. And I think I’m not the only person who thinks the same,” you urge. He meets your gaze and you realise how young he looks right now. Young and boyish. “You make thousands of people smile because of your music. That’s a special ability to me.”

He flashes you a small smile. “I’ve never thanked you for believing in me from the very beginning.” he says, cupping your cheek in his palm.

“Always.”

You drift off to sleep with his voice humming softly in your ears.

[4 months later]

“Bangtan Sonyeondan are currently at the Incheon International Airport, leaving for their upcoming world tour. Their first show will be held this Saturday in Los Angeles and–”

You walk into the living room and sit on the sofa, staring at the pictures Korean press took of Jungkook and his bandmates while they were departing to US. They are dressed in their casual clothing and you know the fans are going to freak out seeing Jungkook’s hair has gotten long enough to tie it in a man bun. You’re almost sure the news have already spread on Twitter.

The TV is too big for your liking but Jungkook insisted on buying it anyway. You can almost see the pimple on his cheek he woke up with this morning. It makes you smile involuntarily.

Rest of the design in his–now yours as well– apartment was mainly your idea. He bought it without telling you because he knew you would freak out. And you did, obviously, call him crazy. But he didn’t mind. Told you he needed a space for himself for a very long time and now he has someone to share it with.

The house feels empty without him. It’s too spacious for one person and when he’s not around, you feel like intruder. But you’ve put on your big girl shoes this morning after a passionate round of love making and teary-eyed goodbyes. You won’t slip them off until he will come home to you in two months.

He promised he would show you Paris and London. You know he will keep that promise, although you aren’t sure you’ll be able to make it with your new job. After breaking up with Minho, Jungkook encouraged you to try sending your drafts to different publishing companies. And one of them responded positively.

You check your phone–your smiling face meeting you on the lockscreen. Jungkook’s smooching your cheek, but prying eyes wouldn’t be able to tell it’s him from that angle. His last text message is from fifteen minutes ago.

[5:55pm] jungkook:

We’re departing in 20 minutes

I’m missing you already so much:(

You reply, although he’s probably fast asleep like he always does during flying.

[6:01pm] me:

Miss u too!!

And you mean it. You’re missing him when he’s at his dance practice, when he’s in the studio. But it has to be enough for now.

The dates he takes you for have to be in the confines of your apartment. You can’t go for a walk and hold his hand or kiss him in public. He said you needed to wait for the tour to end to discuss publicly announcing your relationship. You’re wondering what’s better: forever hiding or being judged for every step you take.

You’re a strong girl, he once told you. And you’ll continue being one. For the two teenagres on the beach smiling to the camera in the framed photo next to your TV.

However long it takes.

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