#but two of my friends have acquired second boyfriends and i am still sitting here with a grand total of zero

[jenster21]

.

[jiminrings]

i just reread ll (after seeing that yoongi pic on twt..... loml) AND UGH IM SO MAD AT THAT FIGHT WHY DID HE SAY THAT AND OH MY GOD WHERE IS OC SLEEPING OMG DID SHE STAY THE NIGHT AT TAEHYUNGS (not like that ..... nasties 😑) WHATS GOING ON. WHAT IS JUNGKOOK GONNA DO WHEN YOONGI OR SEOKJIN FIND HIM WHAT IF YOONGI KILLS HIM OR SMTH

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

you leave jungkook alone in your dorm after a fight — but at the same time, he gets left alone with yoongi and jin, who still aren't sure what to think of him especially now

aka part two of the ll couple's first fight

"i think i'm gonna crash."

seokjin yawns and says out loud without the knowledge that he's speaking out loud, his hands fumbling for the dorm keys amongst the numerous keychains he has a knack for collecting

"you drank one cup of coffee, jin," yoongi snorts because as far as he recalls two hours ago, jin even made him drink his remaining coffee because he couldn't take any more

yeah well sCREW jin for trying to stay awake the whole day alright!!!! he made a roadtrip out of scouring each individual part he wanted to add to his fancy PC setup he's been saving a pretty penny for

he doesn't say it at all but yoongi carries immense happiness in tagging along with errands even if it serves him no purpose <3 sometimes he just likes being a keychain to his best friends and he's happy!!

"yeah, hot coffee — the worst," jin elaborates his dislike for hot coffee even if both you and yoongi heard it a hundred times before

he's noisily trying to find the right key and he's surprised you haven't woken up and just oPENED the door for them, but he's cluelessly and thoroughly entertaining yoongi aka the guy who hAS his own key yet refuses to use just so that he could see his friend suffering some more

at this point, your neighbors probably think you’re getting robbed but thankfully jin finally manages to put in the right key, a satisfactory sigh leaving him when it finally clicks and turns the right way

the dorm is dark and noT dim like what they’re used to, probably something to be blamed to the hellfire of rain that’s going on outside

jin’s carelessly removing his shoes by his own feet, only stopping when yoongi harshly pinches him on the side before he does it to himselF on the inside of his arm

“ow! what was-“

he soothes the sore spot on his side because yoongi can reallyyyyyy put his two fingers close without pinching and therefore make it hurt even more, eyes all around the place before it stops on a familiar figure

a familiar figure, sure. welcome? not exactly.

"huh. you're still here? are you staying the night?"

seokjin asks out loud to jungkook who’s standing by himself beside the couch with his hands bunched, worried eyes fixed on them

"where's y/n?"

yoongi asks and it’s made evident how the both of them have different intentions to acquire for, but they all boil down to you nonetheless

jungkook’s throat dries because it hasn’t even been an hour that he’s left alone in yoor dorm, not expecting it either that your two friends would come home this quick

"that's the thing,” he mumbles and yoongi picks it up first, slithering around jin to confirm if he’s really hearing jungkook

what does he mEAN that’s the thing???

"y/n left."

jungkook’s with the two of them now but oddly enough, he doesn’t feel cornered even if the two of them are positioned as if they’re trapping him

he feels more alone than he is cornered, fresh tears stinging at the back of his eyes that he doesn’t want to show yoongi nor jin

"what did you just say?" yoongi asks more in confusion than in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at your boyfriend

"why would she leave at this hour and at this weather? not to mention, leave you alone with us."

jin raises a valid point to put into everyone’s head how bizarre the situation is and not to spook jungkook out, but it sounds like the latter to him which is why he snorts at the startled look

"calm down, kid. we're not gonna rough you up if that's what you're thinking," he reminds him because they’re not tHAT unhinged when it comes to you, walking to the refrigerator to down the nearest water bottle, ".... not unless??"

he still carries a playful edge to him because as much as he’s worried about you, atleast one of the three of them in this room should be far from having a breakdown to level the others

yoongi’s not done with his questioning streak because he presses further, sitting at the couch in your exact seat that makes jungkook gulp

god it’s now just hitting him that you left

"why did she leave?"

"w-we fought."

there’s slight hesitance in his tone because he’s not exactly surE if he should be telling that he fought with you to your friends, but he sets aside the possible consequences because after all, it’s you that they’re conversing about

yoongi nods to himself, having a hunch that the both of you must’ve fought and when he looks up at him, he only belatedly realizes that your boyfriend’s now blonde

"what did you do?"

he goes straight for it, startling jungkook

he’s not necessarily offended that yoongi asked him what he did because if you ask him, this is really aLL his fault

"i-i'll get to that but uh shouldn't we look for y/n first?"

...

..... okay that was understandable

yoongi knows where he’s coming from, nodding to acknowledge him

"not the first time this happened," he admits quietly and that leaves jungkook speechless, watching him intently which is why it made sense that yoongi’s not out of his mind panicking just like he is, "y/n left the dorm when she and seokjin fought."

yoongi says it even quieter and jungkook gets why, because as low as his mumble went, seokjin still managed to hear it

it must’ve been a sore spot that jin doesn’t want to tell him all about, atleast right now, because he looks down to his feet as if he’s been burnt

"it was a serious fight, but it was long ago,” he mumbles under his breath and the reminder of their fight which he’s tried to bury in the back of his head throws him off his feet slightly, “she doesn't really leave when it's just a petty fight or something."

yoongi somberly smiles at jin as some sort of apology for bringing it up, not wanting to put salt on the wounds as he just redirects his attention to jungkook

"i'm asking you for the last time, jungkook — what did you do?"

there’s no direct pressure behind his words but the three of them know that it would drastically help if he just said so

there’s no moral compass that he tries to steer because he himself wants to tell yoongi and jin, even if it means having to put the little respect and love they have for him on the line

jungkook doesn’t sugarcoat and retells all the way from what happened with the hoseok situation until he finishes with what happened merely an hour ago, almost scared to look up at the both of them

jin humorlessly chuckles and shakes his head to himself, still perched against the kitchen counter

"low fucking blow, kid."

surprisingly, yoongi became the lenient one

jungkook’s head aches because the two of them switched attitudes in a matter of minutes!!!! jin is the one that sounds like he hates being in the same room as him and yoongi is the one that tolerates hin generally

he could oNLY assume that the retelling of the events must’ve hit jin one way or another, somehow connected to what the two of you fought about long ago

yoongi takes the liberty to speak after jin’s remark, nudging jungkook by the knee to sit beside him

"y/n's hurt, of course, because as much as she had flings and casual fucks and whatnot," he trails around but doesn’t look to jungkook who’s wide-eyed thy he’s even letting him sit beside him, “you're her first boyfriend."

...

....

...... what

“i am?”

jungkook asks in confusion and the regret creeps up to him not a second later, the ringing in his ears blocking out the rain and even jin’s announcement that he’ll call you

he nods and kook knows that he’s not only saying this to pull at his tail, simply because he’s aware that yoongi doesn’t joke around with him

with jin entering his room to call you, that leaves him alone with yoongi and it barely registers in his head that this is the first time it’s only the two of them after that time when he threatened to give him a knuckle sandwich and the sort

"was starting to entertain and like the idea of you in y/n's life — our lives, y'know?"

yoongi initiates conversation and kook gets startled even more, tripping over his words because he can’t grasp at the situation fully

"i'm sorry, yoongi. i-i really am."

"hate to say this but," he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue, fiddling with his bracelets, "i know you are."

???

jungkook’s confusion at your friend’s words is what distracts him from his remorse, not believing his ears

yoongi believes him??? he knOws that he actually feels sorry for having done what he did??

"y/n doesn't like being accused, i think no one really does," he starts off carefully, “it's not my story to tell but it's for you to understand that y/n, y'know...."

jungkook swallows the lump on his throat for whatever yoongi’s gonna say next, a furrow in his brow as he chooses his words

“she doesn't come from a past wherein assurance is at face value,” he clears his throat, "that's all i can tell you."

jungkook nods and he tries to contain his thoughts because he doesn’t want to assume. he’s only gonna take what you give and he’ll willingly wait for that time you tell him all about his past

he does have a clue about your family because he asked that one time if he’d be meeting your parents because you’re a senior and you’re graduating soon, but you only shaked your head no and said “yoongs and jin are enough” for your ceremony

yoongi feels sorry, but he’s not sure for who :(

all he knows is that his heart aches, even if it’s for the boy in front of him that he swore he’d hate, but is now unconsciously worming his way into his heart

he’s no stranger to what jungkook feels because he felt the same type of territoriality and the insecurity that came along with it — the one he used to have over you, in that platonic soulmate sense he didn’t realize at the time

"it's not my place to tell you either, but sooner or later, insecurity will consume you, jungkook."

the guy in question nods eagerly because yoongi manages to address the struggle he has in his mind, acknowledging the issue at-hand fully

"y/n can't baby you forever,” yoongi sighs, “but you can't be ditched whenever she feels like it either."

:O

did...

did yoongi just take his side.....

jungkook kNOWS in the back of his head that yoongi’s neutral, but it all just registers in his head that for the first time, yoongi’s on his side, even in a sense

"talk it out. just sleep in her room for the meantime. fix it in the morning,” he starts to gather himself to stand, pausing to look at jungkook in the eye, "i'd hate to see my soulmate hurting."

the thing is, jungkook knows that yoongi’s your soulmate :-)

you told him that once and as much as you explained that it was only platonic, jungkook quickly understood it, much to your surprise

he knows he doesn’t know the entirety of you, but he knows that when he looks at yoongi, he’s looking at you too :)

yoongi gives him the ghost of a smile, making jungkook blink twice

"sooner or later, the two of us need to talk."

jungkook’s contented with that, smiling back at him

"good night, yoongi."

"good night, jungkook."

( ♡ )

ok.,.,.

“don’t come home, it’s pouring. or go back to your dorm, whatever. i don’t care.”

okay you dO in fact care!!!

it’s been more or less two hours since you left the dorm and you know this because jungkook’s been texting you without fail, only stopping twenty minutes ago that makes you look at the time

it’s 11 o’clock :O

either he’s asleep like he usually would be at this time, or he walked home

in fact, you don’t even know if jungkook is still at your dorm

your phone rings all of a sudden that it makes you flinch, scrambling to see who it was and you don’t know if it’s disappointment or relief coating you when you saw that it was jin

"and where is my favorite girl at this time of the night?"

you could only chuckle as you share a glance with the person whose dorm you crashed in, sending an eager greeting with his mouth full

"i'm at taehyung's. we're eating brownies right now."

when you knocked on tae’s door just two hours ago, the only thing he greeted you with was with a towel!!

he didn’t ask why you’re practically soaked in front of his doorstep because for whatever it is, it must probably be in good reason

truth be told, you didn’t even knOw where you were supposed to go but then tae popped into your head as the only sane person you know that would let you in at this time of the night without prior notice

it was a simple “jungkook and i fought.” to which he only nodded to, turned on the tv for you, and started baking brownies

"mhmm. what kind?"

you chew on the chocolate fudge, slightly chuckling at what jin’s insinuating

"the kind that doesn't leave you disoriented."

he hums at that and you could picture him swiveling on his gaming chair he bought just a week ago, his phone tucked to his ear closely

"the same kind that makes you able enough to come home tonight?"

"yeah,” you breathlessly agree, fiddling with the matching bracelet you have with jungkook, “same kind."

you could only assume now that they've seen jungkook and he's still saying there, all alone but with them

your heart warms at the thought that indirectly, jin’s making you come home to reunite you with jungkook, knowing that there’s an impending conversation sooner or later

"want me to pick you up? you'll get a cold."

"i'll borrow tae's umbrella. i'll come home when we finish the brownies."

the both of you know that it’s code for you just wanting a little more time before you come back, and also because you really wanna dO finish the brownies that tae warmly made for yoy

"mkay," jin smiled at your response, "i'll lock the door but just send me a text and i'll open it for you."

"won't you be sleeping?"

"i'll stay up. i'm not sleepy."

jin replies just as quick, a complete 180 to what he said when he initially came home that he wanted to crash because of the hot coffee he drank

you wordlessly thank him and he acknowledges it, happy to atleast know that you heeded his concern for you to come home tonight

"get home safe. love you."

it’s not only minutes later than you thank taehyung immensely and promise to take him to the aquarium as your thanks, finding yourself in your dorm that seokjin ushers you into with a peck on your head

you rush to your room and you’re greeted with the airconditioning turned on, seeing a lump beneath your comforter that you automatically know it’s jungkook sleeping

you're still damp from the rain but you change quickly to the first set of clothes you can grab from your drawers, not wasting a second longer

you sneak into your own bed, the same one that’s carrying jungkook

his sleep hasn’t even been the deepest and the moment he feels a shuffle beside him, he’s woken up immediately

“i’m here.”

jungkook realizes it’s you with the way your voice is soft and the way you hold his arm when you climb into the covers, wordlessly embracing him from behind

"i'm sorry. it's all my fault,” he says sincerely as he turns his body so he could face you, caging you in with his arm

"i'm sorry i stormed out on you."

he feels you nuzzle to the crook of his neck and it calms him down, the familiar scent of you enough to make his eyes close without fear

it only hits you now that this is the first time the two of you cuddle, much less share a bed

"love you."

it’s barely audible but it leaves you nonetheless, not expecting a reply in return but you get one anyways from a sleepy yet overwhelmingly-content jungkook

"i love you the most."

.

.

.

as always, lmk what you think!! i love answering asks :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

[mldrgrl]

The New Addition

by: mldrgrl rating: PG-13 Summary: Hanella welcomes a guest for the weekend

Even more rare than a call from Becca was a FaceTime.  Texting was more her style.  So, when Hank picked up his phone and saw the incoming video call, he answered immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“That’s how you answer your phone?” Becca said.  “Why does something have to be wrong?”

“Many apologies, Daughter, but the infrequency with which you grace us with your face from a remote location are rare as natural breasts on a porn star.”

“Do you think that’s an appropriate thing to say to a daughter, Father?”

“Fuck no, but surprise calls make me nervous.  What’s up, Kitten?”

“Don’t ever call me that again.  Is Stella there?”

“Yeah, I think she was grading some exams or something, hang on.”  Hank turned away from the phone and leaned over the sofa to try to see down the hall to the back room she was using as a study.  “Stella!  Stelllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

“Oh my god, why are you screaming at her?” Becca said.

“I like to take the opportunity to rehearse my Stanley Kowalski impression when I can.  Here she comes.”

Stella came down the hall with her hands on her hips and her brows raised.  Hank held his phone up so she could see Becca on the screen and she immediately dropped her hands from her hips and softened her brows, but she quickened her step.

“Becca, darling,” Stella said.  “What’s the matter?”

“This is why I only text,” Becca said.

“Well, if you called more, we wouldn’t think shit had hit the fan somewhere.”

Hank opened up his arm as Stella came around to the sofa and sat down.  She leaned against him and he adjusted his grip on the phone so they were both in the frame and so that she could also see Becca.

“I have someone I want you to meet,” Becca said.

“How the hell did you meet someone during a pandemic?” Hanks asked.  “Oh my god, are you online dating?  You know those people usually turn out to be serial killers.”

“Dad!”

“Darling, don’t worry, it’s still statistically a very low probability even if related crimes have been on the rise.  Give me his name and social security number and I’ll run a background check.”

“Or her,” Hank interjected.  “We’re still holding out hope she’s a lesbian.”

“This is the last time I am ever calling you,” Becca said.

“Does your mother know about this guy?”

“Or girl,” Stella added.

Becca sighed and rolled her eyes.  She leaned down and tilted her phone at the same time so the view was of her ceiling and then she came back into frame with a small, brown poodle.  “This is Ziggy,” she said.  “A friend of a friend of mine was giving away her dog’s puppies and I picked him up this morning.”

“Lovely,” Stella said.  “He’s very handsome.”

“I haven’t even met him, but I guarantee this is my favorite guy you’ve ever introduced me to,” Hank added.  “Now you’ll be far too busy for online dating.”

“I’m not online dating, but I’m wondering if you can do me a favor?”

“What’s the favor?”

“Next month I have the writer’s retreat scheduled upstate.  It’s just for a long weekend, Friday to Monday, can you watch Ziggy for me?  He’ll probably be housetrained by then.  Maybe.  Hopefully.”

“Of course,” Stella answered, as Hank also said “Not a chance.”

Becca grimaced slightly.  “It’s just that I’d really rather not have to put him in a kennel.  I guess I can call Mom and see if she can pick him up, but it’s so far.”

Stella squeezed Hank’s knee.  “You don’t need to call Karen,” she said.  “We would love to watch him.”

“Fine,” Hank said.

“Thank you.”  Becca smiled and held the dog closer to the phone.  “Ziggy says thank you as well.”

Hank ended the call and then turned to look at Stella.  She tipped her head back to look at him as well.  He tried to scowl and she smiled.

“Why did you say no?” Stella asked.

“Why did you say yes?” he countered.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“Because I don’t see a reason to say no.”

“Because I got her a dog once and where do you think that dog is now?”

“I wouldn’t know, where is it?”

“I have no fucking idea, that’s the point.  I went through all the trouble to steal the little fucker from the boyfriend of this woman I was...uh, actually it’s irrelevant how I acquired the dog, let’s just say I got a dog for Becca and fuck if I know what happened to the late, great Cat Stevens.”

“What in the world does Cat Stevens have to do with it?”

“That was the dog.”

Stella patted Hank on the knee and then tried to get up from the couch, but Hank pulled her back down.  “I have to grade papers,” she said.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew about the naked shower party I’m having tonight.”

“Wouldn’t any shower party be naked by virtue of being a shower party?”

“That’s a very good point, Sherlock.  I’d revise the invitation, but I’d rather just be redundant.”

“Mmhm.”  She pushed on his knee and this time he let her up.  “Text me the details, I need to get back to grading.”

“What, like a dick pic?” he called after her.

She glanced over her shoulder at him with one eyebrow raised.  He waited until she was back in the study to unbutton his jeans.

*****

Becca dropped the dog off on a Friday morning, bright and early.  Stella was awake to prepare for one of her classes, but Hank was still asleep.  He didn’t hear the drop-off, but when he woke up and wandered into the kitchen to make coffee, he tripped over the dog, stubbed his toe, and shouted a ‘motherfucker’ so loud he was pretty sure he was going to get scolded for it later.  The dog ran away.

“Yeah, you better run,” Hank mumbled, limping to the coffeemaker.  “Fuck.”

Stella startled him not a minute later when she smacked him on the ass.  He jumped and rubbed at his stinging backside, turning to her with a pout.  She was holding the dog in her arms and it was whimpering and holding on to her neck with its head turned away from him.

“What was that for?” he grumbled.

“First, for shouting expletives whilst I was on a lecture.”

“I’m sorry, Sherlock, I didn’t mean to. ��Did they hear me?”

“No, fortunately, I was on mute.  There are student presentations today.  Which I must return to.”

“The damn dog tripped me and I stubbed my toe.  It might be broken.”  He leaned against the counter and lifted his foot up to show her his foot.  “See.”

Stella reached out and took a light hold on his toe.  He made a face at her and she gave it a rough tug to which he yelped and pulled his foot back.

“You’re fine,” she said.

“You’re mean.”

“Please don’t make enemies with Becca’s dog for the weekend.”

“He started it.”

Stella handed the dog over to Hank and gave it a scratch on the head before she walked away.  “I put the instructions on the refrigerator,” she said.  “Give them a read and then make yourself useful and take him for a walk.”

Hank pulled a sheet of instructions out from the magnet on the refrigerator and read through them.  They were very detailed.  Too detailed.  He wanted to crumble them up into a little ball and burn them.

“Ridiculous,” he said to the dog.  “When we left Becca with the babysitter the only unwritten rule was just not to kill her.  You’re a dog, you should be pretty self-sufficient.  Just don’t piss on the rug and don’t shit in any of my shoes and we’ll get along fine.  Deal?”

The dog twisted and wriggled in Hank’s arms to be put down and so Hank put him on the floor.  The dog sat down and then lifted a paw to scratch at Hank’s knee.

“Make up your mind, Zig.  Up or down, what do you want?”

The dog barked once and then sneezed.

“I don’t speak canine.”  

Ziggy whined softly and pawed at Hank’s knee again.  The coffeemaker beeped behind Hank and he turned around to shut it off.  He poured the coffee into a travel mug and left the cap off so it could cool a bit.

“Okay, Stella says you need a walk,” he said.  “I need to put some pants on.  Don’t lay anywhere where you blend into the floor.  I need my toes.”

The dog followed Hank into the bedroom and immediately jumped on the bed.  Hank shooed him off and undaunted, he explored from corner to corner, sniffing the walls and the furniture and the clothes on the floor.  Hank snatched up the jeans Ziggy was nosing and put them on.  He grabbed a fresh t-shirt from the closet and then went to dig through a duffel bag that Becca left for the dog’s leash.

It took Hank several attempts at getting the harness onto the dog.  Number one, because he kept stepping out of it as soon as Hank got it on one foot.  Number two, because he initially put it on backwards and didn’t know how the clip could possibly work when it was under the dog’s chest.  He finally figured it out though and it seemed secure.  He grabbed his keys, his wallet, a mask, and the coffee and headed to the elevator.

The half an hour walk with Ziggy made Hank understand the meaning of the term ‘boundless energy.’  If it wasn’t for the coffee, he couldn’t be sure he’d have made it.  When they got back, he unclipped the dog from his harness and even though it felt like they’d just run a marathon, Ziggy dashed across the room and hurdled himself onto the sofa where Stella was now sitting.  To Hank’s surprise, Stella laughed as she dodged excited kisses from the dog and didn’t scold him at all or tell him to get down.

“I am exhausted,” Hank said, collapsing onto the sofa beside Stella.  He grimaced and let out a pained ‘oof’ as the dog stepped on his crotch and up onto his chest.  “Fuck me, this dog is trying to kill me.”

“Have a nice walk?” Stella asked.

“That thing had to piss every five feet and terrorize all the squirrels and pigeons in the neighborhood.”  Hank pushed Ziggy away when he tried to lick his chin and the dog laid down on his chest, panting hot and heavy in his face.

“How’s your toe?”

“What toe?  Oh.  Not broken, I guess.”

“Lovely.”

“He is a total chick magnet though,” Hank said, waggling his eyebrows at Stella.  “Ladies were flocking to me like flies to honey.  Almost got a few numbers.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t worry I told them my wife would kick my ass before she let me take a hot girl’s phone number.”

“I think I might join you for this afternoon’s walk.”

Hank chuckled and nudged Stella’s leg with his knee.  “Kidding, Sherlock.  Some kid did ask me if Ziggy had an Insta and then had to explain to me that any dog who’s anydog has an Instagram account and we should get on it the sooner the better if we want him to be a doggie influencer.”

“A what?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Looks like you have a new nap partner.”  Stella inclined her chin towards the dog, who had dropped his head down to Hank’s shoulder and let out a deep sigh as his eyes closed.  She smiled a little and stroked the dog’s back a few times.

“I didn’t know you liked dogs so much,” Hank said.

“More of a cat person, really.  I don’t mind them though.”

“Did you read that list Becca left?  It’s more complicated than the Treaty of Versailles.”

Stella chuckled.  “It is a rather overly complicated schedule.  For a dog.”

“I say fuck the list.  I kept her ass alive for the requisite 18 years without a list, I can probably handle a dog for a weekend.”

“Tell that to Cat Stevens.”

“Oh yeah.  Wherever the fuck he is.  Okay, maybe we better stick to the list.  Though I would like to point out, Cat was Becca’s dog.”

“Maybe that’s why she made a list this time.”

*****

Ziggy was sound asleep when Hank turned off the lights in the main room.  The dog was passed out on his back, in his bed beside the couch, tongue lolling out of his mouth.  Hank tiptoed past him into the bedroom and quietly shut the door.  Stella was in the bathroom brushing her teeth.  He came up behind her and pressed her into the counter with his hips, sneaking his hands up her shirt to massage her breasts.

Stella grunted slightly through her nose and pushed her hips back into Hank’s.  She put her hand up to hold her hair back and Hank pulled his hands out from her shirt to do it for her.  She leaned over to spit into the sink and he held her hair with one hand and stroked her neck with the other.

“Thank you,” she said.

Hank finger-combed Stella’s hair up into his fist at the top of her head while she wiped her mouth and then he let it go and rubbed her shoulders.  She turned around and he held her by the hips.

“Where’s the dog?” she asked.

“Outside smoking a cigarette.”

“Do you think he should go outside once more?”

“He’s dead asleep.  He was like…”  Hank imitated the dog, rolling his eyes back and sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth.

“You’re the one that was worried about him urinating on the rug.”

Hank pouted his lips and then nodded.  “Fine, I’ll take him upstairs.  But, you better be naked when I come back, or else I’m sleeping on the couch with the dog.”

“I don’t think that’s the threat you believe it to be.”

Hank narrowed his eyes and pinched Stella’s hip before putting his mouth to her neck and nipping lightly at the back of her jaw.  She laughed and pushed at his chest until he let her go.  He playfully slapped at her backside on the way out of the bathroom and she swatted his hands away.

The dog was still sleeping when he opened the door, but he whistled softly and Ziggy startled to his feet and then shook himself.  “Come on, hairball, we’re going outside.”  He snapped his fingers a few times and the dog followed him to the door to the roof.

Ziggy was hesitant on the stairs, taking them slowly and pausing every few steps to get his footing as he hopped up.  He ran around the newly landscaped deck, sniffing just about every nook and cranny and lifting his leg on half of them.  It had gotten chilly since the sun went down and Hank, in bare feet and a t-shirt, hopped up and down a few times and rubbed his arms as he called the dog back.

Hank was forced to carry the dog down the stairs when he wouldn’t budge from the top.  He made a few false starts, but ultimately sat down and wouldn’t move.  When he put him down, Ziggy stared up at him and then stayed closed to his legs as he went back to the bedroom.

“You, stay,” Hank said, pointing to the dog bed.

Ziggy sat down next to the bed.  Hank closed the door.  Stella was sitting up in bed, reading a magazine or journal, which she set down on her lap and took her reading glasses off.

“Did you really think that’s going to work?” she asked.

“He’s fine.”

Before Hank even finished, Ziggy was yelping and scratching at the door.  Stella raised her brows and Hank sighed.  He opened the door and the dog came flying through, jumped on the bed and leapt onto Stella with his paws on her chest, wagging his tail and kissing her cheek and chin.

“Settle, darling,” Stella said, turning her face away and pushing the dog back.  He gave a whining bark as he dropped down.

“Do they make ritalin for dogs?”

“He’s just a baby.”

Hank kicked the dog bed into the bedroom and then pushed it against the wall with his foot.  “Go get in your bed,” he said.

Ziggy laid down where he was, next to Stella.  He put his head on his paws and lifted his eyes up at Hank.

“Now he’s giving me puppy dog eyes,” Hank said.

“Shockingly, I believe that’s where that term came from.”

“Well, I don’t like it.  It’s too effective.”

“Resign yourself to the fact that we have a little guest for the weekend.”

Hank grumbled under his breath as he went to the bathroom to get ready for bed.  He stripped to his jockey shorts and snapped off the overhead lights on his way back.  Ziggy looked up from beside Stella like Hank was the intruder.  He even had the audacity to give a little growl when Hank leaned over to give his wife a kiss.  Annoyed, Hank flopped onto his back and the dog scooted closer and rested his head on his arm.

“Oh, now you want to be nice,” Hank said, reaching over to scratch the dog on the head.  “I’m surprised Becca hasn’t called.”

“What do you mean?”

“To check up on the dog or let us know she made it to the retreat.”

“She’s been texting me all day.”

“What?  What did she want?”

“Checking up on the dog.”

“She doesn’t trust us?”

“You didn’t question her motivations five seconds ago when you were surprised she hadn’t called.”

“I like to be fickle to keep you on your toes.”

Ziggy sighed and squirmed until he was on his back, all four paws limp in the air.  Stella chuckled and rubbed his chest before she closed her magazine and tossed it onto the nightstand.

“We’re letting this thing stay up here, then?” Hank asked.

“Yes.”

“I think I’m more of a cat person too.”

*****

Hank was surprised that the dog was no trouble during the night.  He woke briefly when Stella, always an early riser, got up and said she was going to take Ziggy for his morning walk and when she got back, would be entering in project results into her electronic gradebook for a bit.  He grunted in response and mumbled a reminder to leave him some coffee.

When he finally woke fully, left the bedroom far more cautiously than he had the previous morning.  Ziggy was nowhere to be found, but as soon as he started puttering in the kitchen, the dog appeared.  Hank crouched down and gave him a few scratches.

“What were you up to, hm?” he asked.  “Getting into trouble?”

Ziggy followed Hank as he went to the bedroom, most likely interested in the piece of toast in his hand.  Hank held the toast between his teeth, wiped his hands on his jeans, and picked up his phone from the nightstand to text Becca.

Morning sweetheart.  The furball is good.  Not to worry.  Haven’t shipped him off to a kennel yet and probably won’t.  Have a good time at the retreat.

Hank took a bite of his toast and then tore a piece off and tossed it to the dog.  Ziggy caught it mid-air.  About thirty seconds later, he heard Stella calling his name and he snapped his fingers at the dog to get him to follow him out of the bedroom.

“What’s up?” Hank asked, and shoved the rest of the toast into his mouth.

“What did you say to Becca?”

“Hm?” he mumbled, mouth full.

“She just texted me and said you’ve implied the dog has been sent to a kennel and wants proof of life.”

“No I didn’t,” he said.  “I said I haven’t sent the dog to a kennel so she doesn’t need to worry.”

“Why would you say that to her?”

“So she wouldn’t worry.”

“Well, she’s worried.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“I’ll send her a photo.  Ziggy, come here, darling.”  

Stella kissed the air a few times, but Ziggy thought trying to be caught was a game.  He bounded away from Stella and then stopped and bowed down, his hind end in the air and tail wagging.  She patted her knee for him to come, but he just jumped a few feet to the left and went back into the same pose.

“I’ll get him.”  Hank started towards the dog and Ziggy barked and then ran to the kitchen.  Hank ended up chasing him around the butcher’s block several times before he was able to catch him, but keeping hold of him was difficult.  “Stay still, Zig.”

Stella knelt down and quickly opened the camera on her phone.

“What’re you doing?” Hank asked.

“Taking a photo.”

“A selfie?”

“Do you have another suggestion?”

“I don’t know, I don’t do selfies.  Unless they’re dick pics.”

“Yes, I am aware, but we won’t be sending your daughter a photo of your penis.”

“Well hurry up, this guy is a bitch to hold onto.”

“Smile, darling.”  Both Stella and Hank smiled as she held down the photo button, but Ziggy wriggled and squirmed.  

“Anything usable?” Hank asked, setting the dog free.

“A little blurry, but they should suffice.”  Stella got up and texted the photos to Becca.  “She says thank you, and for you to never fucking text her again.”

“Brat.”

“You started it.”

*****

The day passed.  They took the dog to the park.  He napped when they got back.  Hank worked on his book.  Stella worked on a report for her class.  In the evening, they lit a fire in the new firepit on the roof and cuddled up on the daybed with the dog between them.

“Should we get a cat?” Hank asked.

“Do you want a cat?”  Stella countered.

“Not really.”

“Me neither.”

“It is kind of nice having this little hairball around though.  Not that I want him to stay.  He’s also annoying as fuck.  But, nice to have around.  For an hour or two.  When he’s asleep.”

“Kind of like you.”

“Hey!”

Stella laughed and Hank pushed her down onto the bed, rising to his knees to lean over and nuzzle her neck.  It was a ticklish spot for her, especially when caressed lightly, and it made her laugh harder.  Ziggy barked from where he was wedged beside Stella and under Hank.  He wiggled out from under them and then jumped on Hank’s back with his front paws, barking and growling.

“Relax, man,” Hank said, rolling to one hip off of Stella.  

“He’s being a good protector,” Stella said, laughing when Ziggy nipped at the blanket over their legs and tried to pull it away.

“He’s being a cockblocker.”  Hank wrestled the blanket back from the dog and then grabbed him under the chin, giving him a few firm scratches.  “You know what, Zig?  You be a cockblocker.  You be the best cockblocker you can be, at Becca’s place.  Cockblock the shit out of Becca, okay?”

Ziggy barked and wagged his tail.

“Good boy,” Hank said.  “Good little cockblocker.”

“Don’t say that to him,” Stella said.

“Why not?”

“One day you will need to face the fact that your daughter is a grown woman who deserves a healthy sex life.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to throw up.”  Hank groaned and flopped down onto the bed with his arm over his eyes.  “Consider me officially cockblocked.”

Stella moved up onto her hip this time and put her arm over Hank’s chest.  She kissed his chin and then pulled his bottom lip between her teeth.  He grabbed her around the waist and grunted softly into her mouth.  Ziggy trampled the both of them and stuck his cold nose into Hank’s cheek.

“Gah!” Hank groaned.  

The licked furiously at the both of them and Stella released Hank’s lip with a laugh and a scrunched face.  She buried her head down into Hank’s neck while curling into his side and Ziggy tried to wedge his snout down to keep licking her face.

“We are officially never, ever, ever, ever getting a dog,” Hank said.

“No argument from me,” Stella answered, sliding away from the dog and Hank and stepping off the bed.  “Meet me downstairs and I guarantee you won’t be cockblocked.”

“Oh?”

“Naked shower party for two in ten minutes.”

“The naked is redundant!” he called after her as she walked away.  He waited until she had started down the stairs to take Ziggy’s face in his hands.  “Listen.  This is a cockblock free zone, you got that?  Keep it up and you just may end up like Cat Stevens.  We good?”

Ziggy gave a short, gruff bark and then lifted his paw.  Hank nodded and they shook on it.  He got up and let Ziggy explore the roof for a few minutes while he folded the blanket up and put out the fire.  Not for long though.  He had a naked party to get to and he didn’t want to be late.

The End

[tllthesundies]

Anonymous said:

hi! i love the entertainment fic :) can you please write the part when they are celebrating louis’ birthday together, from harry’s pov?

–––––––

Harry hears the front door open, then close.

He remains indifferent as he stirs the small pot with pesto sauce in it to keep it from burning. He, also, keeps his eye on the boiling noodles in the bigger pot. But he’s listening to Louis’s footsteps and the jingling of keys in his pocket.

“Okay, rockstar,” he hears Louis’s voice, becoming louder the closer he approaches. “I know I take care of everything, and I recognise that you live in the middle of no man’s land, but I didn't actually think I'd have to include a lesson plan on keeping your doors locked. Things happen, even out here.” He pauses, and although Harry keeps his vision on the food, he sees Louis in his peripheral lean against the counter beside him. He’s wearing his jean jacket, some grey band t-shirt on underneath, and pairing it with boyfriend jeans. “I mean, it's California.” Harry can’t help sparing him a brief look, anyhow, quirking an eyebrow as he stirs the pesto. He doesn't respond to Louis. Louis watches for a moment before pushing himself away from the counter to instead lean his hip against it. He sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Making dinner,” quietly and casually replies Harry. He turns the heat for the spaghetti off. “I thought we could eat while we plan. Are you hungry?”

Louis nods.

“Haven't had anything since lunch.”

Harry glances back at a cabinet somewhere behind Louis and points to it. “Do you mind grabbing plates for us and setting the table? They're in that cabinet.”

“Yeah, sure.” When Louis disappears, Harry takes the pot to drain the noodles. “Do you want a specific colour?” he decides to ask Harry.

“Um,” hums Harry over the sound of pouring hot water and wet noodles being dumped into a strainer. “Honestly? I'm feeling teal.”

As Harry finishes draining the noodles, pours pesto sauce on them and mixes them, and finishes the vegetables, he glances repeatedly, briefly, at Louis. He sees him with teal and olive green plates and sets them up on Harry’s table. He, also, tries offering help, but Harry shuts him down immediately, each time, and sends him to just sit at the table. His hands shake just a little bit when he puts each food back into their respective pots–the ends of his nerves are on burning ice and he can’t make himself look at Louis for very long, if at all. He’s just on edge for the truth he hasn’t told him, but he takes a silent breath to clear his head.

“Most of everything,” Harry says, after he’s set everything on the table and gently plops into the seat beside Louis.

Louis blinks up at him.

“What?”

Spooning noodles onto his plate carefully, Harry repeats, “Most. You take care of most things.” He offers the spoon to Louis with a small smirk ghosting his lips.

Louis breathes out a soft chuckle, taking the utensil from Harry.

He shakes his head in reply.

He waits until everything is on their plates to take off his jean jacket. Harry watches him remove paper from inside a pocket, then hangs it on the back of his chair. Louis unfolds it, glancing up at him. “I don't know what you've got planned,” he begins, “or anything, but I made a list, anyway, to help jumpstart ideas. You know Calista, so, I kind of presume you know what she likes. But—just in case.”

Tentatively, Harry takes the list Louis gives him. He swallows as invisible as possible, and his eyes roam over all of the ideas Louis’s written down: Frozen themed - extremely popular concept still; Pink strawberry theme; Typical animal zoo theme; the birthday party concepts keep going on and on, and the longer Harry continues reading the list, the more those icy ends of his nerves burn more. It becomes overwhelming for his chest, and–he has to tell the truth. There’s too much devotion and dedication in this list to keep his façade going. Leaning back into his chair, he finally gathers the courage to look at Louis, and says, “This list isn’t going to be useful. Don't be mad at me.” Eyebrows narrowing, a puzzled look comes across Louis’s face. “I lied to you.”

The fork in Louis’ hand halts.

He blinks slowly at Harry.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “Why am I here, then?”

For a split second, Harry’s confidence wavers. There’s a hesitancy he can’t help having, and one he’s not used to controlling – and as observant as Louis is, he probably sees the moment he wavers. And the controlling side of Harry hates that possibility. But he looks Louis directly in the eye, runs a hand through his hair, and speaks in a quiet voice. “It’s your birthday in just a few days. I—I wanted to . . . give you some kind of celebration to show my”–the words continue getting stuck in his throat; he has to spit them out, to warm them up–“. . . appreciation for everything you’ve done.” He pauses, to gauge Louis’s reaction. He looks–unsure; wondering; still confused, albeit a little more understanding. “Look, I’m not the best at, uh—expressing my feelings for people. Not that I have feelings. But”—he rubs an eye with his knuckle, becoming frustrated with himself—“you know what I mean.”

He took Rachel’s advice, but maybe he went too far this time. He lied to get Louis to agree to this. He lied because he didn’t know any other way to go about this. He doesn’t know how to just–outright ask someone such a simple thing like hey, I want to celebrate your birthday, would you like to come over? And it’s far more awkward because he purposely hasn’t been the most pleasant to the exact person he wants to celebrate.

He’s trying.

Probably in his own twisted way, but he’s trying.

And the silence from Louis stretches for far too long – to the point Harry gets uncomfortable. But he doesn’t show it.

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis says, after some time, words just above a whisper.

“Say nothing,” Harry chooses for him. “Consider this a . . . I recognise your hard work, Louis. You’re always on time, prepared, and organised. I’ve never had to tell you how to do your job, and that takes a lot of pressure off of me. So, thank you.” That last part stings his throat when it comes out. But not in the wrong way. “Again, consider this a congratulatory party for two. Nothing more.”

Louis stares at him.

“How did you know?”

“Résumé,” Harry simply answers.

A small beat of silence.

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “I never put my age or date of birth on any résumé.”

“Résumé,” Harry repeats, intentionally curt.

Harry’s not going to tell him from which source he acquired the information from. He wouldn’t blow Niall’s cover like that. Niall had questioned him plenty enough when he had called him. Why do you want to know? Niall asked, even though he had already given the information to Harry. I just want to be nice, is all Harry answered with.

He wasn’t lying.

“Fine,” Louis replies cooly. “Creep.”

Harry puts on an unimpressed look, staring directly into Louis’s eyes as he chews his food. After swallowing, he says, “That’s a big accusation coming from someone I could fire.”

Louis smiles, smug.

“See, that’s the beautiful thing . . . you can’t fire me,” he retorts.

Harry shakes his head, and he fights the muscles in his face that are around his mouth that desperately are trying to lift his lips at Louis’s reply. He can’t let that happen. His mind races with other topics to bring; with other distractions.

“Listen,” Harry says, “I have a cake for you.”

“Where?”

Harry shakes his head again.

“We have to make it,” he tells him.

Louis looks cautious. “What flavour?”

“Chocolate.”

A pleasantly surprised look crosses his features. “That’s my favourite,” he says. “Lucky guess?”

“You could say that.”

Dinner continues quietly. The ends of Harry’s nerves have started to warm up, evaporating the icy burn and replacing it with a normal temperature. His heart stops beating inconsistently and begins functioning like a normal human being. However, the same icy feeling starts to show itself in Harry’s mouth; words flow uncontrollably out of his mouth. Harry’s not a talker. He knows how to talk. He knows how to respond to people, and how to maintain conversation, but he doesn’t generally start the conversations unless he has no choice. Louis looks a little amused by him, but he does his best to ignore it. He, also, tries to get Louis to talk about himself, so, that he has some semblance of control over his mouth, but it doesn’t work.

Harry notices Dolly sauntering into the kitchen in his peripheral as he loads the dishwasher. She has her mustard yellow turtleneck on still that Harry had put on her this morning, her collar matching impeccably. She comes right over to Harry and peers into the dishwasher, but Harry scratches behind her ear as a warning before gently swatting her away.

She mews loudly at him, offended, she wanders over Louis.

Harry rolls his eyes at her.

“Look what you've done,” Louis speaks up.

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he messes with the controls on the top of the dishwasher.

Snorting, Harry opens a drawer and slings a clean dish cloth over his shoulder before making his way over to Louis. “She's just mad I wanted to keep her from hurting herself,” he tells Louis. “She'll come around in ten minutes and act like it never happened.” He lifts a hand and gently caresses Dolly’s neck. But Dolly tries to hide from him by burying her face into Louis's armpit.

Louis laughs, surprised.

“Oh, no.”

Harry just puckers his lips and gives her an air kiss, and chuckles, smiling. “She always comes back.”

Louis bends his head and drops his gaze to Dolly. Harry watches the gentle way he rubs the top of her head and the rest of her body. He’s so much more familiar with her than when he had first met Dolly. He had been jumpy, a little scared. Now, they’re friends. Harry turns his head away and walks to the pantry.

“So, I've got,” Harry begins, and stops. He grabs the chocolate cake box he sees hiding on the top shelf, and stretches his arm up to get it. The matching frosting container is nearby, and he grabs it, too. He reads the back of it before continuing speaking. “Chocolate frosting. And”—he draws out the word until Louis rolls his eyes, telling him to get on with it; Harry's composure breaks, a grin breaking across his face as he stammers out his words because of his breathy laugh—“could you get the eggs out, please?”

Louis probably thinks he’s annoying.

It’s all on purpose.

Louis squats down to release Dolly from his arms. She jumps out of his grip, but remains by his feet. He washes his hands, first, then puts the eggs he retrieved from the fridge on the island.

Harry comes up beside Louis who’s reading the instructions on the back very carefully, and just dumps the oil, cake mix box, and frosting next to the eggs

Harry finds his measuring cup, and gives it to Louis to use for the oil and water. Louis asks him senseless questions; if he wants to do the eggs, et cetera. Louis has him sniff the inside of the cake mix bake to see if it smells good. It’s very chocolatey. And while he lets Louis do whatever he wants with the cake, he searches through his playlist to find music to fill the silence, so, he doesn’t have to talk too much. He finds Louis a bowl, a pan to fit the mixture into, and preheats the oven.

Harry sticks his finger in the bowl last minute, making a pop sound upon releasing his finger from between his lips.

“That’s really tasty,” he says.

Louis’s unimpressed.

“Tell me that when you get salmonella.”

“Can't wait.”

Louis shakes his head.

As they wait for the cake to fully bake, they work together cleaning all of the dirty utensils and bowls. They clean the island. Dolly stays silently crowding their feet. Harry can feel Dolly rubbing her head against his ankles, then attempts to climb onto his feet to lay down on them. Harry internally sighs.

“Look,” murmurs Louis.

Harry hears a smile reflecting in his voice.

He doesn't remove his gaze from the whisk he's washing.

“I know she's there. I'm ignoring her.”

Then it happens very fast:

Harry feels a small puddle gather on his feet and the bottom of his pants that cling to his skin. He hears Louis’s shocked laughter, but he doesn’t look at him as he breathes in a sharp breath to calm himself. Every fucking time.

“She—”

Harry's eyes close in pain. “I know. I wish I could say this hasn't happened before.”

While Louis’s still giggling and picks Dolly up from his feet, Harry excuses himself to go change his pants, then reemerges to find Louis feeding Dolly from the palm of his hand.

Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, a single eyebrow raised.

“Better?” he asks.

“No,” Harry answers immediately. He pulls out the chair beside Louis, turns it around to sit backwards in it. He crosses his arms on the back of it, and gives Dolly an annoyed look that she ignores entirely in favour of the food she nibbles on in Louis's outstretched hand.

Still highly amused, Louis smiles, looking at Harry. “She's fine. Why'd she do that?”

“She does it when I'm absent too much” Harry explains. “In her cat mind, she thinks if she vomits on me, I'll be forced to clean up after her and take care of her. I don't know. Cats are—they have strange minds. I just think it’s only my cat because she has anxiety problems.”

Closing his parted lips, Louis shifts his gaze over to Dolly. She's trying to bite down on a hard piece she got. Harry watches them both. “Did you want to, like, watch something?” Louis asks, glancing briefly at Harry. “While the cake bakes?”

Harry nods.

“What do you have in mind?”

Shrugging, once, feebly, Louis says, “I don't know. Maybe a movie? Comedies are nice.”

Harry stands from his chair, and pushes it back in normally. “It’s your birthday; you get all the privileges of picking and holding the remote.” He walks past behind Louis and into the front room, and sits down in the left corner of his settee.

After letting Dolly tackle the last couple of pieces of her cat food into her mouth, Louis picks her up and takes her with. He tucks his left leg underneath his right one when he sits down on the settee. There's a space between their bodies that isn’t too enclosed to make Harry uncomfortable; and he averts his gaze to the television, so, that he won’t continuously stare at Louis in his peripheral vision. He can’t keep doing that. He can’t keep–looking at him more than he needs to.

It’s dangerous.

Harry places the remote in Louis's outstretched palm.

Louis shifts through channels for too long; and when he enters Netflix, he spends too much time reading each and every description.

“By this rate,” says Harry, breaking their long held silence, “the cake will be ready before you settle on something.”

Louis turns his head, tilting his head in a look. “Well, I'm not much of a TV person, to be honest,” Louis admits. “What do you recommend?”

“I told you,” says Harry, staring straight at the television still, “your birthday, your choice. . . . But . . . if you really want a recommendation . . . There's Something About Mary is a very good romantic comedy.”

Louis blinks. “What's it about?”

“This guy Ted — Ben Stiller plays him — wants to reconnect with his old prom date back from high school he had a massive crush on, so, he hires somebody to track her down and . . . it's, like, really messy, but what rom-com isn’t? It's a hundred times better than it sounds,” Harry promises him.

Louis seems to consider it.

Then he nods.

“Sure. Let's watch that.”

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he stands from the settee. “You sure?” he asks.

Harry kneels in front of his small but wide bookcase full of DVDs. He quickly looks over every case until he finds the one he’s looking for. Turning the player on and popping in the disc, he returns to his spot on the sofa. Harry’s seen this romcom a thousand times, so, though he keeps his eye on the television, he doesn’t try to catch up with everything that plays out. Instead, he listens to Louis’s laughter, and distracts himself by dragging his forefinger across his lips for something to do. When the stove timer goes off, he jumps up to get it, and Dolly follows behind him.

“It's done,” Harry calls out. After he puts the cake on the counter on top of a dish cloth, he tests the idle with a toothpick. When he looks up to see where Louis is, he finds him by Harry’s walls of picture frames, cradling Dolly in his arms as his gaze roams. Harry decides to act indifferent and let a hard feeling pass through his stomach, and raids through his pantry to find the frosting. “Louis. Where's the frosting?” Harry feels Louis come up beside him a moment later. “I gave it to you. Where could it have disappeared to?”

Taking a step back, Louis stretches an arm out to open the freezer door. He reaches in, and then he closes it to hold the small container of frosting towards Harry, in the air. “Right here,” he says, wiggling it when Harry looks at him, gaze falling on the container. “I put it in the freezer.”

Harry pauses, lips parting. “Why did you put it in the freezer?”

Louis raises both brows at him in a way that the answer should be obvious. “Because room temperature frosting is disgusting? It's only good when it's cold.”

Gently, he tosses it on the island.

Harry's eyebrows pull together as he steps back and pulls the pantry door closed. “Uh—I hate to inform you, but frosting is good no matter what temperature it is,” he says in a vaguely defensive voice.

“Now you're just being gross,” comments Louis, looking briefly at Harry when he situates himself in front the cake, his lightheartedness subtle. Harry chooses to just busy himself with removing the cake from the pan, turning his back to Louis. “Oh, no.”

Harry turns around.

“What?” Harry asks.

He sets the plate full of cake beside Louis on the island and peeks at what Louis has in his hand.

Louis turns his body in an angle, towards Harry, and demonstrates the issue. Holding a knife in his hand to scope some of the chocolate frosting out, he goes at it — but he's stopped, and it's impossible to get any, because the knife is met with nothing but brick. “It's frozen,” Louis says.

Harry blinks a few times.

“Really?”

“Shut up,” he retorts. He glances around before walking over to a cabinet to retrieve a bowl. “Couldn't we use a microwave? Unless you're willing to wait an hour for it to thaw. I know I rather not.” Setting the bowl down, next to the frosting, Louis takes it in his hands and attempts to shake it out into the bowl first. Harry just watches him – and he pauses for a second, because he notices a small freckle on the upper part of the side of his neck. He’s lost count, now, how many freckles Louis has.

“I thought you hated warm frosting.”

“I do, but if we put it in for just a few seconds it won't matter,” Louis reasons.

Harry watches him shake it and realise that method doesn’t work. He proceeds to lay it upside down on the lid and hits it hard. Then he tries squeezing it before attempting to pry the container from the edges of the frosting.

The corners of his mouth tilt downwards in a frown.

“It's going to take more than a few seconds,” Harry comments, and takes the frosting from Louis. He bangs it against the edge of the island, the sound visibly startling Louis. The solid block of frosting falls right into the bowl Louis had gotten. Harry gives him a smile as he walks past Louis to the microwave that sits on the counter to the left of the refrigerator and slides it in. Harry doesn't take it out until it looks like it's thawed entirely, then pulls it out with a hot pad. Coming up beside Louis, he pokes his index finger in the frosting and sucks it into his mouth. “Not that warm.”

He pokes another finger in it.

Louis waves his fingers away from the frosting, and he uses the knife from before to taste it. The temperature appears to be okay with him, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“It's really good,” he confesses quietly to Harry. He puts his knife in the dishwasher full of other dirty utensils and grabs clean knives and forks to use and separate plates for Harry and him. “I don't want to put any frosting on it, by the way,” he adds.

Harry pauses.

“What? Why?” He pulls his eyebrows together in confusion, and looks at Louis instead of the cake. What kind of person doesn’t want frosting on their cake?

“I prefer to have it on the side and dip the cake in the frosting,” Louis explains. “It tastes better to me that way.”

For a few moments, Harry stares at him, and Louis stares back, a little challenge in his face. His assistant is weird. But he can work around it. So, he nods, saying, “We can do that, no problem.” Then he remembers: “Wait.” He walks over to a drawer a few feet from them and rummages through it until he pulls out two things: a large pack of single candle sticks, and candle numbers 2 and 7. “Can't forget these.” Harry sticks the numbers right in the centre, then surrounds it with twenty-seven of the fifty count of blue candles. It's a very crowded cake, and crumbly and has new cracks added into the old ones because of the force of all the candles. It’s ugly, in Harry’s opinion; the cake, the stereotypical candles, how bare and destroyed it all is – but when he lifts his head to look at Louis, into his blue eyes that have specks of green and grey, his chest eases. Stops. Momentarily. This . . . isn’t so ugly.

Quickly, he lights all of the candles. “Okay,” he says upon lighting the last one, and sets down the lighter. “Make a wish.”

Louis ends up staring at his face instead of blowing out the candles right away. He searches Harry’s face. And Harry doesn’t know what to do besides stare right back. Finally, Louis tears his eyes away and leans down, blowing out the candles. They leave a trail of smoke in the air and a very distinct candle stench that Harry hates. But Harry pretends, and chooses to clap him for and whistle. Louis laughs at him, something soft and something high that pulls at Harry’s chest. He starts picking the candles out of the cake, and Harry notices a soft tinge of pink colouring the apples of his cheeks.

Harry doesn’t know why, so, he ignores it.

Louis cuts the cake and gives the first slice to Harry, then gives one to himself. Harry suffocates his slice in frosting very carelessly. Dolly retreats back to them and tries to rub her face in the bowl of chocolate and what's on their plates, but Harry grabs her with both of his hands and tucks her underneath his arm. She struggles to free herself the entire time; Harry ignores it. Even when they sit back down on the sofa to continue watching their movie. Harry doesn’t see it coming when Dolly whips her paw around and slashes at his skin, causing a long and bright red scratch down his forearm. He lets her go immediately, pissed off.

He sees Dolly strut right into Louis's lap, and walks in circles before settling down to rest on his thighs. Her relaxed exterior pisses him off more.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, concerned, eyes full of concern.

Harry’s jaw tenses. “It burns,” he answers truthfully, “but I’m fine. She's just in a mood today.” He rolls his eyes.

There’s a frown on Louis’s face when he glances down at Dolly, but he doesn’t say anything further. Harry chooses to suck it up and finish eating his cake while ignoring Dolly. The scratch thankfully never bleeds, as they finish the rest of their movie, eating the entire cake by themselves. Louis doesn’t finish the next slice he eats, but Harry has no problem eating the rest of it for the both of them.

Harry's licking the icing off his fork when he looks at Louis. The half piece of pure cake is still there on Louis’s plate. “What did you think?”

Louis's eyes flicker up at him, meeting his gaze. Breathing in a soft breath, he nods his head.

“It was good; I liked it. I love Cameron Diaz.”

“Me, too,” Harry admits. “She's very nice.”

“Have you met her?”

Humming, Harry nods once. “Met her on the red carpet at some award show. I think I have a picture.” Louis huffs out a chuckle. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

Louis stays silent for a moment, then shrugs and rests a hand on Dolly, whom lays sleeping in his lap. “Sure. But you pick this time.”

“It's still your choice,” Harry reminds him.

Breathing out a purposely heavy annoyed sigh, he says, “I choose you to pick the next thing we watch.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Sure, it is. It's my birthday.”

Harry stares at Louis, pressing his lips together. It becomes a staring contest between them. It goes on for several moments until Harry blinks and looks away. “I can't argue that,” he says, finally.

“Exactly,” quips Louis, as he gently drops the remote in Harry's outstretched hand, palm turned up.

They watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s, then when Harry turns on Meet the Parents, he notices Louis’s eyes start closing. He repetitively glances out of the corner of his eyes at Louis, watching him nod off until he’s sound asleep. Harry’s chest grows soft as he stares at Louis’s tired, pale face. His thin lips are slightly parted, like he should be snoring. Him and Dolly both sound asleep on each other is a rather humourous sight. He decides to leave Louis be and turns his attention to the television to watch the movie. There’s something . . . oddly comforting about the silence; Louis sleeping beside him, the hum of the telly, the filling sensation that encompasses the silence. It’s not so lonely–not so what Harry’s used to. By the end of the movie, he grabs his own plate and stands up, then does his best to grab Louis’s without disturbing him. But Louis’s eyes flutter open at the accidental brush of contact that Harry internally curses himself for. Louis straightens out his very tilted sleeping position, and looks up at him through squinted eyes.

Harry gives Louis a genuine apologetic look, and quietly says, “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

Louis delicately rubs his eye with the back of his right hand, and stretches his legs, breathing out a tired sigh. He blinks his eyes a few times to adjust. “It's fine,” he rasps. “Sorry I'm falling asleep.”

“Don't apologise,” Harry gently tells him.

He continues off to the kitchen. After scraping off pieces into the rubbish and rinsing off their plates, he lays them on the counter, then hesitates. The image of the gift bag still in the other room floats to the forefront of his mind. He looks over his shoulder at Louis, and finds him distracted by Dolly, and makes a quick decision. Harry speed walks to the other room on silent heels and grabs Louis’ gift bag, then makes his way back into the front room. Louis looks up the exact moment Harry approaches him, and the movements of his hand combing Dolly’s fur stop when his eyes fall down and spot a white bag in Harry's left hand.

“What ‘ave you got there?” His tone is careful.

Harry sets the shopping bag right in his spot, close enough for Louis to reach into. Harry sits on the edge of the settee on the other side of Louis, at an angle facing Louis, and he looks him directly in the eyes. “I thought I'd give this to you, before you completely black out on me,” he says. “It's not really a celebration without gifts, too.”

Louis pushes himself up to sit straighter. “Harry . . .” He looks at a loss for words – lips parted on nothing; uncertainty scaling his face and eyes; touching the bag’s thin, black handles like it’ll burn him. “You didn't have to get me anything. Dinner, movies, the cake, I'm perfectly content just with that.”

Harry presses his lips together lightly and nods. “I know,” he says, forcing his gaze to not leave Louis's. “But I want to do this for you. Don’t make me repeat myself; I’m not good with complimenting people. Just accept it.”

“Harry—”

“Fucking accept it,” he says.

Glancing between Harry's face and the bag, Louis touches it again.

He leans forward and peeks inside. It’s covered by black, decorative tissue paper, and Harry watches him use both hands to remove all the tissue paper.

He knows the second Louis sees it. He pauses, gaze unblinking and widening just enough for Harry to catch. He sees the backpack from Givenchy Harry had gotten him. That was . . . another thing he managed to get out of Niall. Louis’s allegedly been so back and forth about buying it for himself that Harry decided to choose for him. It was extremely easy to find, and even easier to buy. It was probably the easiest gift Harry’s ever had to shop for. But–he didn’t think it was enough; he had bought a bag of Reese’s, as well as wrote a check out for Louis and put that in the backpack for him. Maybe it would make up for everything, Harry’s hoping–maybe it’ll . . . Harry shouldn’t be hoping for anything, really. But after Rachel had a talk with him and made him feel like a shitty person, he’s hoping this’ll convey Harry’s guilt. Or apology. Louis might not recognise it as that, but that’s okay.

“Open it,” Harry instructs softly.

Louis quits just staring at the bag and unzips it. Suddenly, he looks up at Harry and smiles at him, face glowing in happiness. Harry can’t help the smile he gives him in return. Louis backs down and–a little laugh is pulled out of him. Harry’s eyebrow furrow, a little, in wonder.

“What's so funny?” Harry asks.

Louis pulls the bag of candy out to show Harry, without speaking.

Harry's gaze shifts from Louis to the treat, a confused but amused smile splitting across his lips. He . . . doesn’t understand. It’s candy. Harry shrugs like what about it? and Louis shakes his head in response and mumbles never mind. Setting the candy down beside Dolly, he grabs the check.

Louis scoffs, shaking his head as he begins to read it, and asks, “How much is this?”

But he abruptly stops, face falling.

“Five thousand dollars,” Harry casually answers, despite his heart picking up pace again. Louis lifts his head to look at him, but he doesn't say anything. Is it too much? Is it too forward? Did Harry cross a line? Maybe he was wrong for buying Louis his dream backpack and a check. But if he just stuck with the candy, then Harry would look like he put in the least amount of effort in. And this is the line he struggles with: either going too far, or not doing enough. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Louis answers immediately. Then he releases a breath, knowing he’s full of it.  “This is too much, Harry.”

Harry blinks, then stamps on his racing heart and pulls out his detached face. “Louis,” he begins, stern, “don’t even start. That?”—he points to the check—“That is pocket change to me. We’ve gone over this. I have more money than I’ll ever know what to do with. I don’t see better use for it than for charity and for using it to buy whatever you want. Don’t feel bad about me using my own money. Eat the rich, or whatever they say.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Louis asks.

Harry pauses.

“Yes and no. But that’s a different conversation for another day.”

Louis blinks, breaking his gaze from Harry. Harry watches him closely, and waits for something. Louis’s face is concentrated; furrowed eyebrows, a far away look in his crystal clear eyes. He’s thinking something, and as much as Harry would love to get inside that pretty little head of his, he merely settles for waiting. Dolly comes poking through, however, weaving herself effortlessly and expertly through Louis's arms. She throws her arms up to cling to the opened backpack, and stands on her hind legs to peer inside. She stuffs her entire head in it, and it breaks Louis out of whatever it was, making him chuckle.

Harry just shakes his head.

Louis wraps his fingers around her legs to pull her back out of his backpack, but she clings hard. Harry  finds himself laughing softly at the image before him, and he intervenes quickly. He softly scratches behind Dolly's head, then transitions into wrapping his hands around her bottom. He picks her up upside down, successfully having Dolly let go.

Harry pulls her to his chest.

Louis's small chuckle turns into a giggle, and he shakes his head. He reaches for his phone on the coffee table, and Harry watches his face change to realisation.

“I have to go,” he announces.

Dolly falls out of Harry’s grip and runs away.

He looks at Harry.

Harry puts on an unreadable face. “You have to go?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Louis responds as he stands up. “I have a flight in the morning. Remember? I have to get up really early, and triple check all my belongings. It’s a long flight, so, I’ll need some proper rest.”

“All right,” Harry agrees. He walks first to the door, with Louis following suit, after placing his backpack back into the bag, along with the check. “When's your flight?”

“Hm,” Louis hums. “I think 7.45 in the morning.”

“Harsh,” Harry comments lightly. He lifts his hand to rub at his neck a moment. “I hope it's good. Tell your mum I said hello.”

Louis nods. “I will. And I hope it is, too.” There's a slightly awkward pause, on Louis's end. But it doesn’t last. “Listen . . . I want to thank you for—”

Harry interrupts him.

“No problem.”

“You didn't have to,” Louis points out. He's clearly not going to let Harry wave it off. “You didn't have to do anything at all, but you did. I just want you to know that it's one of the nicest things someone's ever done for me, and that I really, really appreciate it.”

Louis looks at with the most serene face, conviction in his tone. It causes Harry to be temporarily weak.

“You're welcome,” he says in response, hands clasped behind his back for something to hold on to.

Harry doesn’t see it coming – Louis steps forward with confidence, coming into Harry’s personal space, and raises himself onto his toes to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Those icy nerves return alight and burn him. He’s paralysed for several moments; all he registers is the faint scent of floral notes reaching into his nostrils and brushing against his nose hairs. It’s not overwhelming; it’s the perfect aroma of flowers and fruitiness. Based on his own colognes he’s sampled and bought before, this one could be YSL – or maybe it’s ones he’s seen, such as Lancome. They carry a lot of floral perfumes. Either way, it’s very pleasing. And before he can think, he sneaks his arms around Louis’s small waist–it’s much smaller and slimmer than it looks–and spreads his fingers across the bottom of his spine and the middle of his back.

It’s only a moment later Louis pulls back.

Even though Louis doesn’t look at him, he can’t stop staring at Louis, completely dumbfounded.

“I'll see you in a couple weeks,” says Louis, smiling, when he looks up at Harry. “I'm a text and phone call away if you need anything, okay?” Louis raises a pointed eyebrow at him, giving Harry a look. “Don't hesitate, okay? I won't mind.”

Harry nods.

He’s not going to, but he’ll pretend for Louis.

“Got it,” he says, pressing his lips together.

The pointed look remains on Louis's face.

“I mean it,” he presses, to ensure his message is across.

Harry rolls his eyes and straightens out his posture. “I know,” he sighs. “I’ve survived nearly a decade without you, so, I don't think anything I can't handle is going to happen in the time you'll be gone.”

Louis throws his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, I didn't say you couldn't handle any one thing. I implied quite the opposite, actually,” he corrects.

Harry plays along.

“No need to rub my already swollen ego.”

Louis smiles, huffing out a small laugh. It’s the softest expression he’s ever seen on a face. It’s so caring. Harry doesn’t–understand how he can be so gentle. “Never happy with anything, are you?” he teases.

Harry smiles. “Nope,” he says. “Comes with being a perfectionist. And just being me, in general.”

“I see.” There's silence that falls over them like a blanket. Harry’s hoping Louis will take the cue and leave, but he stays. “What do you plan to do for Christmas?”

Harry blinks.

“I don't know,” he answers. “I don't do much for Christmas, really. I don't celebrate it.”

Louis raises an inquiring brow. “Because of religious reasons, or . . . ?”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t talk about it with anyone. He’s certainly not going to discuss it with Louis. “Nah. Just don't celebrate it, that's all,” he answers, giving Louis a small smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Not even with your parents?” Harry shakes his head, choosing not to say anything more. With that, Louis drops the subject. “Don't forget to—”

“I'm kicking you out,” Harry says, tone flat, and a finger pointed to the door behind Louis.

He walks around him and opens it.

“You're kicking me out?” Louis repeats,, smiling and now standing so close to the door frame, as he keeps his gaze on Harry, whom now leans against the side of the red door, arms crossed and one foot hooked around the other.

Harry nods vigorously, eyebrows risen.

“Get out. Right now.”

“Fine, I'll leave,” says Louis, raising his hands as he walks out onto the stone walkway, “but not because you're threatening me; but because I want to.” He keeps on walking down the small set of stone steps and across the path leading to the driveway.

“Louis,” Harry calls out without thinking, just going on the feeling of restricted air in his chest. Louis looks over his shoulder, as his hand pulls his car keys out of his pants pocket, and his strides slow. He stares at Harry with patience, and it’s the last thing Harry wants to see in his face, because he won’t be seeing him for a while. “Merry Christmas. Happy birthday. Have a safe flight.”

Louis’s mouth curves up in a gentle, genuine smile.

“Thank you. Happy New Year,” he calls back.

Harry closes the door two-thirds of the way, not willing to let go of the sight of Louis quite yet. He needs to see him get safely in his car and drive away – he can’t let that feeling go. The restriction in his chest worsens when he watches Louis open his car door, but it eases slowly when Louis looks back. In fear of coming off creepy, he closes the door. But he stays behind it to listen to the engine start – to see the red lights reflect against the windows and the distant sound of his car fade until Harry can’t hear anything anymore. Then he turns around, inhaling a deep breath when his vision lands on Dolly sitting on her bum patiently by the stairs, watching him.

“Dolly,” he says – she tilts her head – “Am I too much?”

Dolly mews and walks off.

He’s always changing himself, changing his style, his image. He’s either always too much or not enough; there’s no healthy balance. Maybe he’ll try working on it in Louis’s absence, so, he doesn’t have to fret over it every time he says or does something he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t want to scare Louis off.

[mypersonmyg]

don’t sweat it | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst ig??, established relationship

rating: pg15

wc: 1.2k

warnings: some suggestive language, unedited :p

summary: your friends don’t think you spend enough time with them OR yoongi thinks you’re a distraction

a/n: yesterday you got misery chick and today it’s reliably listeless!! i kinds wrote this a while back but never posted it for some reason, so yeah. again,,,you don’t have to read the full fic to get it, but just know it’s in that universe

[drabble masterlist]

[reliably listless]

The fresh breeze gently glides the skin of your exposed arm, the scent of flowers in bloom wafting against your nostrils with imaginings of the petals colorful and swaying in the wind. You inhale with pleasure, nearly gagging when you’re brought from the reverie of the gym door half agape, reminded that you’re not in fact enjoying the beautiful weather of early summer but instead sitting inside watching your boyfriend play a game of pickup. The scent that greeted your inhale was not fresh flowers but the stench clinging to practice jerseys gone too long without a wash. 

You remind yourself to steal Yoongi’s from his bag while he’s showering, well aware that the stinging smell of weeks of buildup doesn’t bother him as much as it assails you and your sensitive senses. 

You draw back to the motion of the court, hands tapping at the caps of your knees not altogether following the score you were meant to be keeping but distracted by the sheen of sweat sticking Yoongi’s overgrown hair to the nape of his neck and the plains of his forehead. Your wrist itches with the neon hair tie that grips the skin, Yoongi’s nimble fingers snatching it from your hands when he caught wind of your intent to sprout his strands before he stepped onto the court. 

“You let me do it last night!” Was your baseless argument, the poke of your lips useless to sway him save for the short peck bestowed as a precursor to words that curled your toes. 

“You were the one that insisted you needed something to hold onto.” 

The words have been playing on your mind since he jogged away, immediately taken with the court, your way only graced with glances often enough to keep you on edge. You barely noticed the placement of a body to one side of you and your ears had graciously tuned out the senseless gossip falling from Seulgi’s lips from the moment her body hit the bleachers. 

“—and Hobi said he agrees you don’t spend enough time with us anymore.” This catches your attention, the smirk aimed in your direction cluing you on the knowledge that your overt ogling would not go unnoticed by the only other person not banking (or bricking) shots. 

“I spend plenty of time with you guys, Hoseok!”  

“Hobi did not say that!” His attention is drawn from where he stands at half-court, jogging his way to your seat with little to no attention being paid to the game at hand. “Seulgi said that she feels like she hasn’t seen you in years and she might throw Yoongi into a ditch soon if he doesn’t back off.” 

“Okay, well first I think you should both relax.” You mutter, eyes falling on your two friends, glaring childishly, Hoseok’s lips pulled into half sneer at being dragged in by no accord of his own. “Second, I’m sorry if I’ve been a little preoccupied but—”

“Hobi!” Jeongguk’s voice draws Hoseok’s attention with enough time for him, and you, to flinch when the ball appears to be hurtling toward the bleachers and too far over any of your heads for a hope to clutch the round menace before is bounces fiercely on the row of bleachers just a few steps higher. 

“Who was going to catch that?!” 

“You, if you were paying attention instead of talking to your girlfriends,” Jeongguk mutters, eyes rolling and hands thrown into the air with palpable annoyance. 

“Girlfriend.” Yoongi mumbles the correction, jogging over to the bleachers, ignoring the gape of betrayal Hoseok aims his way. You hop from your seat and scale the few benches to grab hold of the ball just seconds before Yoongi grabs hold of you, his chin resting against your shoulder. “I’m gonna have to stop inviting you to watch me play.” 

“Wha—I did nothing wrong!” 

“You’re distracting our players…” He hums, hands traveling the length of your arms so soft under his touch, the scent of your body somehow fighting through the stench of the humid gym. “—distracting me.”

“I’m just watching you play.” You hug the ball to your chest, aware of the heat radiating from Yoongi onto you, the sweat that coats his neck now pressed against your own. You would be lying if you said the thick moisture and panted breaths didn’t awaken you just the slightest bit, but you’re determined to prove your point. 

“Watching me play, right. So what’s the score then?” 

He’s got you and you both know it. Rather than submit to the corner pressing to your back and give Yoongi the satisfaction that seems to come naturally, you pull yourself from his hold and push the ball into his chest. 

“Ya know, I think that we—” You step past him, your attention falling on Seulgi who had taken to rummaging through your bag for the snacks that are always meticulously placed in the many pockets throughout. “—are going to go.”

“We are?” Seulgi seems less enthusiastic about spending time with you than she had just moments ago, her mouth filled with the pack of m&ms she scrounged. You wonder how she managed to acquire them still intact, the vivid memory of too long standing in the sun followed by the less than graceful squash of your bag under Jeongguk’s ass earlier in the day concerning to say the least. “But I just found a snack.”

“Well, we can go get a snack if you just…hey! Are you even listening to me?!” You don’t need her to respond when your neck cranes to encapsulate the landscape that has her attention tied and mouth hanging open, half chewed candy all but forgotten between her lips. 

Her sudden eagerness to participate in the remainder of whatever game is left to play is clear in the painting of perfection, shirts flying overhead to combat the sweat soaking tan skin. An ad too picture perfect for any moving picture and too annoying for your wandering eyes to properly enjoy, though the flattening of Yoongi’s half smirk is not forgotten in your periphery.

You snort, the irony of the situation not lost on you as you sling your bag over your shoulder. 

“Come on, I’m kidding.” Yoongi tosses the ball to Jeongguk, tugging you into him once more, his lips pressing to your cheeks despite the impatient mutterings from the court. “I love it when you distract me.” 

“Oh no,” You whirl on him, his lips spread in a goofy grin, unbothered yet entertained by your sudden attitude. “You do not get to do that!” 

“Do what?” 

“Be all cute boyfriend and expect me to just...forgive you.” 

“But I am sorry, what am I supposed to do without my number one cheerleader?” He pouts, eyes reflecting in pale fluorescents. 

“Lucky you, Namjoon is still here so you don’t have to worry about it. Come on!” Your arm hooks the crook of Seulgi’s, tongue shooting in Yoongi’s direction where he stands with his hands perched on his hips.

“Where exactly are you going?” 

“I was thinking that I’d go distract someone else!” The words are spoken loud enough for Yoongi to hear, but your eyes are too zeroed on the exit to note the disappointed look that befalls his features before he rushes back to the court. 

[katie-writes24]

I’m Not Scared

Pairing: Vampire!Alexander Hamilton x reader

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex, Language, mentions of blood, vamp feeding, and soft Alex :)

HAPPY SPOOKY SEASON!! I wanted to put this out earlier but I got distracted. So, I was totally inspired by @spilledkauffie work, and their spooky fics are A M A Z I N G!!! And Vampire Alex just gives me lots of feels! So check them out, and you know the drill! Give me feedback please, and let me know if you want to be tagged! Enjoy ya spooky kids!

Her eyes were constantly on Alexander, watching his every move and waiting to see if something was out of the ordinary. How could she not have known? How didn’t she see it? Even now, there was no given sign of him being out of the ordinary.

“You’re staring again,” Y/N blinked out of her trance to see him standing behind the counter smirking, dipping his tea bag in his mug. She shifted on the couch, feeling shy that she was caught.

“Sorry,” Y/N hugged her legs against her chest. She just wasn’t used to the new information she acquired, not knowing if she should act different or not. “I’m just...still in shock I guess.”

“I get it,” Alexander rounded the counter and stood behind the couch, giving her a sad smile. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out or made you uncomfortable or scared you-”

“You didn’t scare me,” Y/N said quickly, that’s the last thing she wanted him to think. She could never be scared of him, she trusted him with her life, even if she knew that he could now end her life in a split second if he wanted to. “I’m not scared, I’m rather...curious, if anything.”

Alexander paused and raised a brow. He looked her up and down and bit the inside of his cheek. Tension was thick in the air, Y/N swallowed nervously.

“What are you curious about?” Alexander sipped from his mug and Y/N thought about his question. She was curious about a lot of things: about how old he really was, if her silver bracelet ever hurt him when they were holding hands, if he can smell how nervous she is right now. Because she might not be scared, but she was a little anxious. She knew that he must of craved her blood when they were close, she just was nervous if it would affect her, or what if it went wrong and changed her?

“Have you ever bitten someone?” Now that it was out in the open, Y/N felt her heart rate speed up. Alexander shifted his feet as he scratched the back of his neck.

“I have, but I never turned them,” He seemed to frown at that, and Y/N raised a questioning brow. Alexander sighed and put his mug down on the table, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “I only...I’ve only ever bitten them for feeding...”

At his tone, she noticed the vampire looked...guilty. Looking at how he caved into himself, Y/N realized that he was actually afraid of telling her his dark secret because he was afraid she would judge her.

“Have you...how have you gotten your feeding when we were...?” Y/N couldn’t even begin to imagine who he has bitten, if it was his past lovers or close friends or just random innocents on the streets.

“I, uh...you know, John used to help me out,” Alexander looked at the floor and bit his lip as he spoke slowly. “He understood that I needed it, but I couldn’t ask him that all the time. I only ever asked when...when I really needed it.”

“But you could die without it right?”

“I could, but...I’ve gotten my way around it, trust me,” His tone dropped again, and it made her heart pang with guilt, knowing that she wasn’t there when he needed her.

She scooted across the couch and held his hand firmly in hers, causing him to look up at her with wet eyes. “Alexander, I’ll never judge you, you know that? Never.”

“Y/N, I’ve done terrible things. Cruel things, things that one should never imagine. I can’t put you through something like that.”

“So, what? You’re gonna leave me? After all this time?” Y/N could feel her nerves act up again, this time for a totally different reason. The thought of him leaving her made her stomach swirl.

“No, love, no,” His hands cupped her face and made her tilt her head up to look him in the eyes. “But I can’t ask you to be there everytime, I can’t put you through that, I care for you too much.”

She bit her lip and shook her head. She wasn’t going to make him suffer if it would only cost her a little pain.

“When was the last time you had it?”

Alexander scoffed and looked away, only for Y/N to grip his chin and make him look back at her. A few moments later he sighed, “Almost a week.”

“Let me do this for you, please? I know you need it, I can’t sit back and watch you ache, Alex!”

“It’ll hurt, and I might not be able to control myself, Y/N. What if...what if I can’t stop?” Alexander would never forgive himself if he changed her or worse...

“I trust you,” Y/N gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ve trusted you with my life before I knew, and I trust you now. Just take what you need, don’t worry about me.” Even thought it was scary to think of it, she wouldn’t deny him anymore.

“Are you sure? Like absolutely sure?” Alexander clutched the hand that was holding his face and frowned.

“Alex, please,” She sounded tired, and maybe it was the sense that he was repeating the same thing over and over again, but he couldn’t help it. This wasn’t just asking if he could kiss her and then have regrets later, this wasn’t asking to borrow twenty dollars and pay her back later, it wasn’t that simple. Even if she didn’t think it was a big deal, this would change their relationship, he knew it would.

As she nodded once more, he took a deep breath. Reaching out, Alexander grabbed the back of her legs and moved her so she was laying across the couch, head propped on a pillow. As he hovered over her, he noticed how strong her scent was getting, how her heart rate picked up. He looked into Y/N’s eyes and found no fear or discomfort. That was a good sign, at least.

“Wait,” Y/N put her hand against his chest as he started to lean toward her neck. Alexander drew back with wide eyes, afraid that she was having second thoughts, afraid that she wouldn’t go through with it and that he made her uncomfortable.

Instead, Y/N grabbed his face in both hands and lowered him into a deep kiss, one that made him whine. Her lips were full of promise, and as she sucked on his lower lip, he couldn’t help but run his hand through her hair and clutch the back of her head.

When Y/N finally pulled back, Alexander didn’t stop there. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw, her throat and finally into the crook of her neck. He felt her tense up as he kissed the exact spot he knew the blood was strongest.

“Just try to relax, love,” Alexander kissed the spot a few more times, trying to get her body to not be so stiff. When her shoulders slumped, he felt his fangs draw out and he punctured into her neck.

Y/N cried out sharply, grabbing onto her boyfriend’s shoulder and scrunching up her face in pain. It was immensely painful, that was her first thought. She could feel the sharp fangs dig into her flesh, she could feel her blood being sucked out of her viens. It was draining.

Meanwhile, Alexander bathed in the fresh taste, moaning softly as his body fit into its normal state again. It was a fresh feeling. However, he could tell that Y/N was hurting, as her whole body stiffened and her cries were nonstop. He did his best to comfort her; he caressed her cheek with his thumb, wrapped his other arm around her back, anything to make her feel safe.

Only moments later, Y/N was getting used to the feeling, it not being as painful at first. Don’t get her wrong, she still winced, but now it was rather, in a way...nice? Alexander’s soft suction in her neck made her lift her hips up, getting some friction against the denim along his hips. She could hear him whine softly at the movement.

Alexander was going too long, he knew that. But he couldn’t stop; it was refreshing, new blood. But when Y/N kept grinding her hips against his leg, he knew that there were other tasks that he had to handle. He slowed down, releasing his fangs before licking generously at the wound.

When he pulled back, Y/N gasped. His eyes were now dark red, piercing and lustful. She also couldn’t ignore the blood all around his mouth and chin, traces even leading down his cheeks. Before she could comment he was slicing his own wrist, making Y/N jolt in shock.

“Here,” He shoved his arm towards her and she gave him a confused stare. “Trust me, drink it. It’ll help.”

Swallowing hard, she leaned forward and sucked on the dark liquid forming on his wrist. The taste wasn’t very pleasant, metallic strong and unfamiliar. As she sucked, she could feel her body starting to heal, gaining back its previous loss of fluid.

Alexander pulled back moments later, shushing her when she whined. She had no doubt her face was in the same shape his was. He must of known because he quickly went into the kitchen, coming back with paper towels and handed one to his girlfriend. They both wiped their faces clean and looked at each other hesitantly.

“So, how was it? Did I hurt you? Was it...?” He trailed off and scratched the back of his neck nervously. While he was more concerned with her state, she couldn’t stop the trembling between her thighs.

“Alex, please trust me when I say that I was fine, I am fine, and I need you right now.”

Despite the wide eyes, he didn’t waste anytime.

It was only a matter of seconds before Alexander’s head was between her legs. She reached her hand back to grip the arm of the couch as he sucked slightly on her clit. He tongue suddenly thrusted into her folds and it made Y/N jerk up.

“Alex, fuck...” She moaned as he hummed against her mound. His hands were wrapped around her thighs in a bruising grip, but she didn’t mind, not when he was swirling his tongue like he was.

“Ohh, I’m close- Al!” He added two fingers and Y/N was lifting her hips up to meet his thrusts. Her free hand held onto the top of his head as he lapped at her pussy, shaking his head back and forth as if to go any deeper.

“Come for me, sweetheart.” Alexander spoke against her wetness, and she let out a shaky breath. It only took one more hard thrust of his fingers and a strong suck to her clit and she was falling over the edge, wrapping her legs around his waist, letting out a loud moan.

When she came down from her high, she went completely limp, the adrenaline from before finally coming down. As he body sunk against the couch, Alexander laid across her, noticeably kissing the wound he had made earlier.

“I really didn’t scare you?” He whispered, giving one last kiss before looking up at Y/N carefully.

She only grabbed the back of his head in her hands, smiling up at him. “You could never scare me, Alexander. That’s a promise.”

He sighed before nodding, kissing her deeply on the lips. When he pulled back, he smiled, “Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course, love,” Y/N kissed the tip of his nose and scratched his scalp. “Besides, if what just happened will always happen after your feeding, I’ll never complain.”

Alexander smirked before reaching behind him to grab the pillow, smacking it against her. Y/N laughed, and that was a sound he’d never grow tired of.

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!!!

@dontblinkumightmiss @companionjones @notebookgirl30 @tinywhim @biafbunny

[percyjacksonfan3]

Number 11 "How could you ask me that" for the fic prompts with merthur please

Thanks so much for the prompt! This was huge fun to write. I know you might have wanted some angst but I went with fluff instead so I could include one of my favourite cliche tropes.

Hope you like it!

____________________________________________________________

“Tell me the truth, Merlin. Right now.”

Arthur’s boyfriend looks back at him with wide eyes filled with nothing but hurt. “How could you ask me that?”

Merlin’s expression makes a pang of guilt go through Arthur before he forcefully shoves it away. This is serious.

“Arthur come on-” Morgana begins from beside them but he holds up a hand and she cuts herself off. Arthur sees the look she and Merlin exchange, one that clearly reads, ‘Sorry. I tried.’

“Let’s just forget it,” Gwen suggest valiantly from her place beside Morgana, always one to try and keep the peace between everybody. Her big brown eyes look worriedly from Arthur to Merlin and she bites her lower lip briefly. “I’m sure no one meant any harm.”

Arthur and Merlin both make indignant noises at that.

“No,” Leon leans forward to look more intensely at Merlin. “I’d like to know too.”

Merlin gasps, turning those innocent blue eyes to Leon for a moment. “Leon!”

“He didn’t do anything,” Gwaine cuts in, shifting where he sits beside Merlin. “Honest.”

“Like you would tell us the truth if he did,” Elyan rolls his eyes from where he and Percy are sitting together.

“Oi! If that’s an insult to my honour-”

“Come off it Gwaine,” Mordred interrupts him with a fond smile. Beside him, Lance carefully counts out their pile of money. “We all know you have no scruples when it comes to this.”

“Everyone that’s enough.” Arthur cuts back in calmly. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of Merlin this entire time, and for the most part Merlin hasn’t looked away from him either. “Merlin just answer the question. Did you cheat?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Oh am I?” Arthur retorts. “Because last I counted, you and Gwaine only had 3 100 pound bills between you, and now I see 5.”

He points across the Monopoly board to where Merlin and Gwaine’s pile of money sits innocently beside their large sprawl of property deeds. While the rest of the teams are struggling to get more than three properties, Merlin and Gwaine have somehow managed to acquire all of the brown and yellow ones.

Arthur knows them too well to trust them for a second. “Someone’s cheating.”

“Or maybe you just suck at Monopoly,” Merlin bites back.

“Alright guys, let’s not get carried away.” Lance says carefully.

“I do not suck at Monopoly!”

“Could have fooled me,” Merlin sticks out his tongue. “Leon is the only reason you even have those 2 properties.”

“It’s not my fault I land on Chance or Community Chest every time!”

“Bad luck mate,” Percy says in sympathy.

“Uh, yes it is. If you were good at the game you wouldn’t have that problem.”

“I can’t control how the dice land, Merlin!”

His boyfriend just shrugs unconcerned. “The gods of Monopoly just don’t seem to like you.”

“Wha- the gods of Monopoly?” Arthur splutters, arms flailing as he throws them up into the air in exasperation and makes Leon have to quickly jerk out of his way.

“I told you we should have played Pictionary instead,” Gwen says mournfully, making Morgana snort beside her.

“That would be even worse. Have you forgotten the last time?”

Mordred touches his own temple in remembrance of when Arthur took off his shoe to throw at Merlin but ended up hitting Mordred in the head instead.

Merlin had killed himself laughing over it.

Right now though the two of them are too busy standing up to glare at one another across the table to notice the looks being exchanged by their friends.

“I love game nights,” Percy says mournfully. “Shame we can only have them once a year.”

“I thought this would end once they started shagging.” Elyan notes and Leon and Lance both shake their heads simultaneously.

“Not these two. The competitiveness isn’t sexual tension, it’s just...”

“Foreplay?” Gwaine suggests and the rest of the table groan. Lance looks like he regrets saying anything at all.

“We heard that,” Merlin says in an aside to the rest of them before looking back at Arthur. “Look, clotpole, if you had eyes and a working brain you’d be able to see why Gwaine and I have more money without us having to resort to cheating-”

“A working brain?” Arthur repeats, sounding strangled.

It’s then that Leon interjects. “Oh, he’s right Arthur.”

Arthur turns from where he’s been considering leaping across the table to wrestle Merlin to the floor and force the truth out of his boyfriend to look at his friend. “What?”

“They passed Go.” Leon points at where their dragon icon sits innocently. “Last turn I think. We forgot.”

Arthur stares at the board.

“Oh. Well that’s alright then.”

He sits down abruptly and nods at Mordred to roll for his and Lance’s turn, happy to continue on with the game now that it’s been clearly established everyone is playing by the rules.

“Clotpole,” Merlin repeats, but he sounds fond and there’s laughter clear to be heard in his tone so Arthur just rolls his eyes before looking back at him with affection.

Their gazes hold and Arthur feels warmth spread through him.

“Ugh,” Morgana interrupts, making them both look at her. “I vote that after tonight we retire Monopoly from Game Night.”

“Agreed,” the rest of them all say immediately, making both Merlin and Arthur roll their eyes. Honestly, the pair of them aren’t that bad.

Which is proven when Percy and Elyan surprise everybody and end up winning, which causes not only Arthur, not only Merlin, but Morgana, Leon, Gwaine and Mordred as well to all stand up and accuse them of cheating. The board is flipped. Money goes flying. A little green house is crushed under Percy’s foot.

The Monopoly board is packed up and shoved to the bottom of Merlin and Arthur’s closet.

____________________________________________________________

And there we go! I hope you enjoyed this, I know it ended up being less Merthur-centric but hopefully it was still entertaining. Thank you so much again for the prompt nonny, I really had a lot of fun writing this!

For anyone else who’d like to send me prompts you can find the list here!

[spookygrantaire]

Of Heroes and Thieves

First Meeting

A smirk flashes across red painted lips. An indecipherable look in her eyes. Though he was quite certain he should be able to figure out her intentions quickly, as the pistol pointed at his forehead was a pretty big clue. The second clue was the way she’d tied him up;though in his defense, he’d initially been led to believe that was going a different direction. “Sorry to disappoint you, Barton. But I do have a job to finish.”

He sighed, nodding. “Nothing you can do I haven’t done to myself, babe.”

Her smirk turned into a sad smile before she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you around, Hot Stuff.” With that, she swung her leg over and left the straddling position she’d been in, put the dress back on over the lacy lingerie (much to his dismay), and exited through the window, jewels and his heart with her. At least she’d had the decency to cover him up with the little heart shaped pillow. 

Second Meeting

It was just as unexpected as the first time. He saw her across the room, his heart instantly speeding up, and made her way over. “Mind if I cut in?” he asked the man dancing with her, his eyes locked on her as her smile grew. 

The man left and he began the slow dance with her. “Love the dress, babe.”

“It’s about time you noticed I was here, Barton. I’ve been waiting an hour for that famous eyesight to work,” she smiled. “And thanks, it was a steal.” 

He rolled his eyes before taking in the black sinful dress she had on. He knew she wasn’t lying about how she acquired it, yet why couldn’t he resist her? “How’d you get an invite? I don’t think any of us even know your name.”

She grinned triumphantly. “A girl needs to keep her secrets. But I did come for a reason,” she said seriously. “I have some information. Avenger level information.”

He raised a brow, giving her a twirl. “Should we go somewhere private?”

She laughed, and he felt butterflies in his stomach. “Nowhere in this building is private. It was stupid of me to come here and show my face, anyways. Spiderboy and the two soldiers have already clocked me, and your witchy friend has been staring me down since I danced with her brother a half an hour ago. Quite a smooth talker, that one,” she commented. “Now, can I tell you what you need to know, and head home? I’ll have people after me after this.”

“We can protect you, you know.”

She shook her head. “No you can’t, Clint.”

His head tilted. “Why do you get to know my name but I can’t know yours? Do you just like to play with me?”

“I’d LOVE to play with you. Where’s your room?” she grinned. 

“Don’t tease me, babe.”

“Anyways,” she brushed him off, dancing closer. “I have some inside information that a certain, rival family of my employers, is now working with a certain, rival of the good Captain and his. Boyfriend?” she glanced over Clint’s shoulder. 

“What? HYDRA?” he asked.

“Developing some wicked new serum, I hear. I’m unsure if it’s another Winter Soldier reboot, or something worse, but as you may well know, Assassin’s have more poison knowledge than anyone else in this world. And they don’t play around. I know the octopus gang don’t play either. But, up to you all what you do with this information. I have to go.” She stopped dancing, forcing him to stop as well. 

“How did you find any of this out?” he asked.

“Can’t tell you that, Hot Stuff,” she shook her head. 

“Tell me your name before you go?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, birdy boy.” She took a step back, paused, and moved forward, meeting his lips, surprising him.

Before he could react, she was gone. He looked around the room, not finding her. His eyes met Wanda’s and she shook her head. Definitely gone. This was gonna be weird to explain to the team later. 

Third Meeting

The building was in flames, and they still didn’t have all the information they needed. Between him and Nat, they were trying to scour through the offices to find, copy, and destroy any and all files. Unfortunately, the team didn’t expect HYDRA agents to detonate any explosives. Fortunately neither did the Assassins nearby, as they heard the shouts “We don’t have copies, you idiots!”

They definitely got lucky. Clint made a mental note to thank her next time he ran into her. He pushed the thoughts back as he kicked down another door, beelining for the desk. Shock ran through his body as he saw the body slumped on the floor by the desk, blood dripping down her face. “No, no, no, no, no! Babe!” he knelt and grabbed her face, patting it gently before checking her pulse. Alive. She mumbled quietly, before her eyes opened. 

“Ouch,” her eyes focused on him, and she smiled. “Hey, Hot Stuff. You made it.” 

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he helped her up. “And how did anyone surprise you fast enough to knock you out?”

She leaned on the desk, before reaching down to her boot. His eyes widened when he saw the flashdrive she was holding. “Couldn’t really sit around. Got antsy. Boudreaux saw me, thought the Guild sent me. I’m really in deep shit now. But here. Take this. I’ve already deleted everything. You’d think between two teams of bad guys, they’d really have thought of making more copies.” she shrugged, watching him pocket the drive. 

“Guys, I have it. We gotta roll,” he told the team. 

“Great, get your girl and meet us at the jet,” Sam replied. 

He heard Nat give a short laugh. “He can’t even get her name, how’s he gonna convince her to come with him?”

“Touche.”

“Guys, please,” Clint sighed. He met her confused look. “Right. Come with us. Even if you don’t stay, we can at least give you a lift?”

“That’s a bad idea, Clint,” she frowned. “I guarantee Julien has already spread the word. I’ll have two Guilds after me, and you won’t be able to protect me and yourselves. Best if I just disappear.”

“Don’t underestimate us, Babe. We have saved the world a few times, you know.” 

She hesitated, before nodding. “Okay, a ride.”

He smiled and offered his hand. “Let’s go, then.”

Back on the jet, she wasn’t sure how to take all the eyes staring at her. The only one being polite was the good Captain, and she was quite positive he was only being polite because he was piloting. “Uh, hi guys. Thanks for the lift?”

“Stop staring at her, guys,” Clint scoffed. “It’s pretty rude.”

“Sorry, man, but like. She’s real!” Peter shrugged.

“I danced with you once, did I not?” Pietro, squinted at her. 

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Flash, you did. Sorry, Clint’s a better slow dancer.”

He nodded. “That’s fair. So are you his next rehab project?”

She watched as Wanda smacked her brother on the back of his head. “Shut up, Pietro.”

“What--?” she began. 

“Oh yeah. He’s got a hobby of turning bad guys good.”

She glanced at him. “You gonna make me a good girl, birdy boy?”

“I--No I don’t rehab people. I just. Don’t like seeing good go to waste.”

She tilted her head, giving him a questioning look. “Am I going to waste, Clint?”

He frowned, trying to choose his words carefully. Before he could respond, Natasha interjected. “Your talents are being wasted on just stealing for the Thieves Guild. Sure, you feel free most of the time, but you’re not really. They own you. And only two ways you really get out.”

“Three, actually,” she countered. “Retirement, death, and excommunication. And if I have Assassins after me, chances of retirement or excommunication are slim to none. Don’t matter that the Patriarch’s son is my brother in law.”

“Wait. Your brother in law is Henri LeBeau?” Clint asked, both eyebrows shot up. “Fuck, that means you’re Y/N Laurent.”

“I. Yes,” she pressed her lips together. “But unless she speaks up for me, which is unlikely these days, I’m getting handed over to the Assassins, no questions asked.” Her eyes met Clint’s and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “It was nice knowing you, Hot Stuff.”

“Don’t be so negative,” it was Bucky’s turn to chime in, as he stretched his legs out and put his arms behind his head. “We’re keeping you. If they wanna come get you, they’re going through us. Besides, Barton hasn’t shut up about you since he met you. Imagine how bad it’ll be if you die or something.”

She gave an unexpected laugh. “Guess I’m glad the feeling’s mutual.”

Wanda jumped up and shoved Clint out of his seat to take his spot next to her. “Now will you please tell us about how you too met? We only got a little of the story from him.”

Clint groaned and Y/N laughed. “Well. The Guild sent me to steal those emeralds, if you recall…”

He wasn’t thrilled he was about to be embarrassed, but he had to admit he was feeling immensely more positive.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.83

Sorting out his personal life wasn’t an easy thing to do. Half Lance’s small supply of blood tasted off. Not being able to eat left him hangry, and his pride left him unable to reach out to Coran. Keith would have come in an instant if Lance had asked, but he was feeling so stressed for having his house turned into “Investigation Headquarters” by his friends that he didn’t want to worry his boyfriend.

The week took its time to slowly come to an end. Lance dressing in his best suit, trying to look like he had more ego than brains. Light headed with hunger. He’d thrown up twice that morning from the scent of bacon, well, the smell of cooking fat. His stomach felt like it was filled with rotten fish as it cramped from hunger. Nothing but blood would soothe it at this stage. Matt was worried about him, offering to drive Lance over to Platt, but being a moody hungry douche, Lance had brushed him off. He’d eat when he got to VOLTRON. Until then, the extension of his fangs would make him look tougher than he was. He’d tried his last blood bag to find it tasted definitely off and dead. It was his fault for not having the brains to think about it before just leaving like he had.

Messaging Keith to let him know he was leaving Garrison, he was met by Shiro and Keith in front of the bookstore. Keith immediately noticing he wasn’t feeling well. His ego didn’t take it well, causing him to hiss when his boyfriend reached towards him to help him up the curb. Shiro echoed Keith, but his voice sounded far more annoying, like he thought Lance had intentionally done this to himself. Wisely Lance kept his mouth closed, thinking he if could make it through the meeting then that’d be all there was to it.

Only. Lotor changed the rules at the last moment. He wanted to meet with Lance alone, Coran apologising profusely as Lance sweated up a storm. He couldn’t remember feeling this dead since he’d drunk Keith’s blood to save him. Keith started yelling, Lance whimpering at the sound. He didn’t like when Keith yelled. Unless they were being idiots and yelling at each as they did. Gritting his teeth, his stupid ego flared, almost cruelly disregarding his friends worries as he followed the scent in the air away from the group. It wasn’t a repulsive scent, but it wasn’t a welcoming one. Moving faster than intended, he left behind the others, plunging into the briefing room, and in to face Lotor alone.

Yeah. He was stupid. He’d barely made it inside the door before he was facing a face full of Lotor’s pheromones. The man dressed in a gaudy purple suit, pattered with silver dragons and clouds. Rising from his seat, Lotor looked him up and down as Lance swallowed hard. He felt a hairs breath away from having his knees buckle

“You must be Lance”

There was a kind of dreaminess in Lotor’s tone. He couldn’t quite latch onto the words. Lance felt himself moving, but as if he wasn’t in control of himself. Walking over to the table, Lotor eyed him almost as I he was laughing, Lance baring his fangs in offence, feeling stronger than he had thanks to his ego. Sitting down, Lance crossed his arms like a petulant child, Lotor sitting across from him with an easy smile on his lips

“To think they’d let you walk around in such a condition. I can see the hunger in your eyes. And your scent... You’re not quite a normal vampire”

Waving a hand, he wasn’t going to admit his hunger

“Bad blood... I hear you wanted to speak to me?”

“I did. I was most curious to see the vampire they kept so guarded here”

“I am hardly guarded. If anything your manipulative little games gives me the impression you’re not all you seem either”

Lotor’s face twitched, eyes narrowing, fangs lengthening

“Your ego remains. I expected someone more meek”

Lotor’s ego flared, Lance’s flaring in response. He felt completely dominated by the man, like he wanted to drop to his knees and bare his throat. Lotor commanded the room. The way Lance did in court. Humming, Lotor leaned forward, eyes locked on Lance

“Interesting. You keep your head raised. You should be submitting by now”

“I’m sorry. I don’t submit for just anybody”

“I suppose you don’t. You’re not a typical breeder. My mother has introduced me to a fair few with the hopes of producing an heir. Terribly annoying”

“That I don’t submit?”

Lotor chuckled. It really did feel like a dream. Maybe Lotor’s pheromones were messing with his head?

“That she thinks I am of marrying age. Now. If I am to align myself with these humans, I require evidence of their skills. Not anyone could stand against Sendak. My mother will take personal offence to your actions. So, I ask that you perform two simple tasks for me”

“I have the feeling what your asking would ensure mutual destruction should she hear”

“Nothing drives bonds like being driven into the same corner. To secure my help, I ask for two things. The first requires you to acquire something for me. A certain object... consider it a family relic”

Lance snorted, tone teasing as if mocking Lotor

“That you cannot fetch yourself?”

“I could indeed. Yet I want to see what your made of. A test of skill hardly means much if I complete your task for you”

Lance’s eyelids felt as if they were dropping... Lotor really was... dreamy... With great effort, he arched an eyebrow

“You said two tasks”

He was slurring... why was he slurring? He didn’t like this...

“The second task will take place after you complete the first. Keep your eyes on me... I need your full attention”

*

Keith, Shiro and Coran entered the room as Lotor and Lance stared at each other across the table. Lance’s long fingernails, wicked and cruel, matching Lotor’s own extended nails. Neither man turned to acknowledge them, something silently happening between them.

Not letting Lotor get to him, Keith sat himself down in Lance’s left, Shiro on his right. Coran standing just behind them. Lotor paid then no mind, far too focused on Lance

“Interesting. You keep your head raised. You should be submitting by now”

What? Was that why the room felt so... “sticky”. Keith didn’t know how to describe it. The feeling kind of akin to watching a fly stuck to one of those paper roll things that hung from the ceiling. Coldly, Lance replied

“I’m sorry. I don’t submit for just anybody”

“I suppose you don’t. You’re not a typical breeder. My mother has introduced me to a fair few with the hopes of producing an heir. Terribly annoying”

“That I don’t submit?”

Lotor chuckled, eyes flicking towards Keith for a moment. Keith didn’t like this... Lance was all vampirey, and Lotor was dangerous

“That she thinks I am of marrying age. Now. If I am to align myself with these humans, I require evidence of their skills. Not anyone could stand against Sendak. My mother will take personal offence to your actions. So, I ask that you perform two simple tasks for me”

Two simple tasks? Nothing was ever simple with Lotor. If Lotor wanted something, then it wouldn’t be simple. Keith went to interrupt, Coran placing his hand on Keith’s shoulder to keep him from butting in

“I have the feeling what your asking would ensure mutual destruction should she hear”

“Nothing drives bonds like being driven into the same corner. To secure my help, I ask for two things. The first requires you to acquire something for me. A certain object... consider it a family relic”

“That you cannot fetch yourself?”

The way Lance asked sent a shiver down Keith’s spine. His boyfriend letting his ego bait Lotor

“I could indeed. Yet I want to see what your made of. A test of skill hardly means much if I complete your task for you”

Watching Lance out the corner of his eye, his boyfriend’s eyes were slowly sliding closed, without ever breaking his held gaze on Lotor

“You said two tasks?”

Lance slurred his words a little. Keith fighting not to interfere. He felt useless for not speaking up, but Coran made it clear they were to watch and wait

“The second task will take place after you complete the first. Keep your eyes on me... I need your full attention”

Lance didn’t make any attempts to communicate or acknowledge Lotor wanting his attention. Lotor going on to explain that he wanted them to get a certain item from the place he’d already marked out on a map. Staring at the map, Keith couldn’t make heads or tails of it. That’d be a job for later. Once Lance was away from Lotor and his ego. Giving them 24 hours to collect the item, Lotor thanked them for their time, before calmly walking to the door. Lance continued to sit, still staring forward.

“Your friend here ingested bad blood. I suggest you give him medical attention as soon as possible. He’s quite unique. I see why you keep him locked away”

Giving them a wave, Lotor let himself out the briefing room. As the door closed behind him, Keith moved to take Lance’s face in his hands. His boyfriend felt clammier than normal, head lolling limply in Keith’s hands. A fine layer of sweat clung to Lance’s skin. No wonder Lance was so grumpy

“Shit. He’s got a fever”

“Bring him to my examination room immediately. Bad blood. Dear me. That’s not good at all”

Lance threw up as Keith laid him on the table. The hunter rolling his boyfriend into the recovery position as Coran fetched a towel out one of his weirdly stocked cupboards

“He would have realised the blood was bad as he drank. There won’t be too much in his system, though I’m concerned how this will affect his hormonal levels. Number one, please move that waste bin over. Number two, I need you to keep him grounded, and make sure he’s not got anything in his mouth”

Passing him the towel, Keith lifted Lance’s head to clean up the vomit down the side of his face. Shiro grabbed the tissues off Coran’s desk, starting to clean the mess sticking to the plastic table. Coran fetching a fresh blood bag out his small fridge

“Normally we’d purge his system, but we haven’t the time for a full purge. We’ll have to rely on fresh blood to dilute whatever’s in his system. Not to worry, it’s not the first time we’ve had a bad blood incident”

With Coran taking care of the city’s vampires, Keith couldn’t help but blame him for the bad blood. Surely Coran sourced his blood responsibly. With Lance’s face cleaned, Keith passed the towel to Shiro as he lowered Lance’s head back down. His boyfriend was shaking like mad, Keith stroking his hair as he tried to comfort him

“Can we get a couple of blankets? He’s cold”

“In two shakes of a donkey’s hind leg. Once this IV line’s in, well bundled him up all safe and warm as a... whatever you humans say”

“As warm as bug in a rug. Right, Keith?”

Shiro shot him a wink that Keith ignored. If he’s been in the mood to be messed with, he would asked Lotor to stay. Whimpering as Coran inserted the cannula, Keith hushed Lance gently

“Are you that’s going to help?”

“Quite sure. A few tickeroonies and he’ll start improving. I must take a sample of his blood and pheromones while he’s here. It’ll help to know what Lotor’s pheromones triggered with him”

“He’s not a pin cushion”

Coran chuckled

“My dear boy, I know he is no such thing. I need to know if something happened to him on a more cellular level”

Shiro used the towel to clean up the last of the vomit, dropping it into the bin when he was done. Hovering, Shiro didn’t know what to do with himself

“So bad blood makes him this sick?”

Coran nodded, connecting the IV line and hanging the bag of blood up on the pole

“This is very mild symptom wise. It may all be from shock. Lotor has quite the ego”

“Is he in heat?”

“Not at all. Keith would be very clear about it if he was. No. He looks quite ill. Let me check his gums after I take my samples”

“I could check them while you work?”

“That’d be most excellent. Keith, please continue to keep him calm. Shiro, pull up his top lip and describe what you see”

Lance tried to jerk his head away from Shiro’s fingers near his mouth. Pulling his brother’s hand back, he felt way too protective of his boyfriend to let Shiro paw at him

“Your scents upsetting him. Let me do it”

“Keith...”

“It’s fine. Lance knows my scent and I’ve seen Coran do this before”

Pulling Lance’s lip up, Keith eyes Lance’s gums

“His teeth are fully extended and the gums are really pale”

Coran hummed, Keith letting go of Lance’s lip

“A sign of hunger. He hasn’t been eating enough. Fresh blood would be best”

“He can have some of mine... but he prefers bag”

“That’s a very kind off, but we’ll make do with what we have here. It’s important we keep him nice and comfortable. Shiro, perhaps you could undo his shoes. These tests should only take a moment, then we’ll have a little looksie at that map of Lotor’s. and I must call Kolivan. He’s most insistent. Bordering rude if I must be honest”

Keith didn’t care about the map. He was stuck on Lance not eating properly

“Is there a reason Lance wouldn’t eat?”

Asking helped distract him from the needles Coran was getting out

“Any number. I imagine drinking bad blood would have put a dent in his appetite. He could also be nearing his heat and simply not hungry... though he’d be more inclined to eat as his body prepares to go without regular feeding. Now, this first needle may hurt the mostly. I’ll be taking a sample of his womb, just to make sure everything is fine and dandy there. It is hard to say if the bad blood would have affected it as it made its way through his system”

Keith swayed on the spot. Colour draining from his face. Lance went through enough growing the damn thing

“Shiro, perhaps fetch Keith that chair. We can’t have you fainting, too”

He didn’t think he was going to faint. He was obviously in shock and kind of panicking... and now his knees were giving out...

“Whoa! I’ve got you, kiddo”

Shiro caught him before he could fall. His brother sitting him down before pulling his mask off

“Take a few slow deep breaths for me”

“I’m not an invalid”

“I know you don’t love needles. Take a few moments and don’t look this way”

Coran tried to be as quick as he could with all his tests, Keith appreciating his wasn’t simply stabbing Lance for no good reason. Carrying his samples over to his desk, the fae smiled softly at Keith who felt shakier than he had standing

“All done. I’ll call Allura to come collect these. Shiro, we’ll need that map now”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Lance to wake up?”

“Lance is awake... Did I faint?”

Keith nearly fell off the chair as he jumped at Lance’s voice

“Babe!”

Lance groaned, Keith shifting so he could put his hand on Lance’s hair

“Don’t yell... my head hurts. What happened?”

Dropping his voice to barely above a whisper, Keith didn’t have the right word for “relief”

“You fainted after Lotor left. Do you remember what happened?”

“We were talking... and I guess I blanked out. I don’t remember him leaving”

“You were sitting right across from him. Did he do something? Did he hurt you?”

“No... didn’t hurt me. His ego... god, it’s awful. He doesn’t smell like Sendak but he wanted me to submit”

“Babe...”

“I’m sorry. I know I was supposed to ask him stuff... it got hazy...”

“Babe...”

“I remember sitting across from him, but I don’t remember what we talked about. He wanted me to submit. I could smell it and feel it... like I wasn’t in my own head...”

“Babe...!”

Lance was too busy rambling on

“He wants me to find something but I can’t remember him telling me that. I don’t remember... I don’t feel very good”

“Lance. It’s okay. Lotor said you had bad blood?”

“Half my blood bags at home were off... why does my stomach hurt?”

Keith didn’t know what to make of this. Shifting his attention from Lance to Coran, Coran silently got the message

“I had to take a little sample to make sure the blood didn’t do anything bad to you. You know it’s a foolish thing to let your hunger get bad”

“Hard to eat when half hour food tastes like arse and human food doesn’t do it”

“You should have called”

“Knew I was coming here anyway...”

Coran sighed. He’d never apologised to Lance

“My boy, my phone is always on and my door always open”

“I do believe you didn’t want me and my scent trailed all over the place”

“That hardly matters in moments of emergency. I’ve set you up with a blood bag. Could you eat?”

“No... can I sleep a bit? I feel weird”

Coran opened his mouth, Keith feeling pissed at him for not actually apologising

“You get some rest. Lotor gave us a map. We’ll work it out when you’re feeling better”

“Good... I feel like shit”

“That’s weird, I thought you felt like Lance”

Lance laughed weakly

“That was awful. You should feel bad”

He didn’t. Not if made Lance feel that little bit better

“You’re the one feeling awful and bad”

“I’m an awfully bad shit... oh... fuck...”

Being awake, Lance leaned over the bed as he threw up. Keith moving from his chair to sit behind his boyfriend, kind of twisted awkwardly as he tried to rub his back and fit on the single person bed

“Let it out”

Lance missed the bin. Keith had zero envy for whoever was cleaning that up. Coran had rolled up Lance sleeves to fit the cannula, Keith feeling it would have been better if Lance had at least had his jacket taken off. He couldn’t be very comfortable

“Don’t wanna... tastes fucking gross”

That was his boyfriend

“If you don’t get it out your system, you won’t be able to come on the robbery later”

“Fuck you... I can rob who I want. I’m the magical thief”

“The only thing you’ve ever stolen is a few pens by accident and my heart”

Lance groaned, before spitting then rolling back on the bed

“That was even worse. I can’t believe Shiro lets you out the apartment”

Keith didn’t miss a beat, saying as deadpan as he could

“And I can’t believe it’s not butter”

Lance closed his eyes, pushing his back against Keith’s leg as he sort out comfort in Keith’s touch

“Coran. Help. My boyfriend is making jokes at my expense”

“Is that what they are? I wasn’t sure what he was doing”

Keith shot Coran a glare, feeling rather burnt as the fae chuckled to himself. Lance groaned at the pair of them

“Oh, damn. That was too much. Babe, don’t let him insult you like that”

“It’s not my fault Coran has no sense of humour. Now, are you going to be a shit or are you going to rest?”

“Both. Both is good...”

“Good boy. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better”

“Yes, dad...”

[jamielea81]

Back to School

Chapter 1

Pairing: Professor Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Some cursing

Description: After taking years off of school, you finally decide to go back and finish up that degree.

Word Count: Approximately 1,800

A/N: Welcome to my new series Back to School! This is a professor AU with a twist. This series will be on the shorter side (no more than 10 chapters) and will be updated weekly. I’ve tagged those that have asked to be tagged before, if you would like to be removed just let me know. 

*Italics are internal thoughts.

Sticking out like a sore thumb wasn’t your idea of a good first day back to school. It was like high school all over again, but instead of wearing cheap clothes from the clearance rack while the other girls in school wore designer jeans, you wore business attire. Black pencil skirt, blouse, heels, makeup done up, that was your staple most days at the office. Students hanging around campus and in your first class were dressed in pajama pants, jeans, gym shorts and t-shirts. You were vastly over dressed, but it wasn’t your fault, you had to go back to work after your second class.

You had taken a few years off of school. Who were you kidding? You took 13 years off. It was always your intention to go back to college and finish up that degree, but life got in the way.

During senior year, you had gotten sick. It started out simple enough with pains in your stomach, but no amount of pain killers and rest could cure it. Once it was apparent you weren’t getting better, you made numerous trips to the health center on campus. They in turn referred you to the regional hospital that diagnosed you with an ovarian cyst. It was already quite large and your doctor recommended surgery as soon as possible. Two weeks later, you had the surgery to remove it. Because of the recovery time and the days you missed being ill, you had no choice but to take incompletes for all your classes that semester. Your job on campus was also terminated because you were no longer enrolled in classes.  

Life back at home with your parents wasn’t a breeze. After being away for nearly four years, it was quite the adjustment living under their roof once again. They encouraged you to take classes at the nearby University which you did, but you struggled. Driving into the city was a pain and finding parking was even harder. You stuck with one of the two classes you enrolled in and managed to finish it leaving eight credits to go.

You found a job fairly quickly after a friend working in a call center gave you the heads up about an opening. It started as a fulltime position that summer, and you planned on going part time in the fall so that you could take a couple of classes to complete your degree. You ended up moving in with said friend at the end of summer. The money was rolling in as you turned out to be quite the sales woman. Deciding to take one more semester off to put some money in the bank, turned into a year off. Student loan bills started to arrive in your mailbox since you weren’t enrolled in classes. That one year turned into two. You moved out on your own. Took a new sales job with great benefits and a 401K. Two years turned into five. A job in middle management became available and you took it. Even though you were great at sales, you didn’t particular love it. Motivating others and knowing how to manage a team was more your forte. At that point you were doing quite well for yourself that school went on the back burner. Before you knew it, you were in your mid 30s worrying about a fifteen-page paper due at the end of the semester.

The campus is nice, as far as colleges go. It was also conveniently located thirty minutes from your home and office. Lush green lawns, loads of maple trees, benches and tables scattered along the wide walk ways. There’s a coffee shop in the student union, but you found a coffee cart located outside near a row of benches that faced a large water fountain in the center of the campus.

You acquired yourself a cup with two shots of vanilla. Grabbing a few capsules of cream and adding them to your cup, you planted yourself on an empty bench. You reached into your briefcase to grab out the syllabus from your first class, Economics in the Modern Age. There was no point in acquiring a backpack when you had only two classes and you had to get to work right after your second one. An hour between classes was more than enough time to look over your notes and get a cup of coffee.

“Can’t believe classes have started up again.” A deep voice in front of you said.

Looking up, the sun partially blinds your view. You put your hand up to shield the sun to get a better look at him.

“Sorry.” He says, moving about a foot to the right to block the brightness from your view.

And what a new view it was. Broad shoulders, dark blonde hair, nicely groomed beard, and those eyes. A poet could write several books about those eyes. He looked to be about your age, which was refreshing. Dressed in dark blue jeans, buttoned down checkered shirt and a brown sport coat over it. You were starring. Once you realized it, you looked down and quickly took a sip from your cup and nodded.

He stuck out his hand and you quickly set your cup down next to you on the bench. “Steve Rogers. History.”

“Ah, um, Y/N Y/L/N. Business administration.” You said, shaking his hand. His fingers fit nicely against yours. You really hoped he didn’t notice the blush.

“Do you mind?” He asked, gesturing toward the empty space beside you.

“Not at all.”

Be cool Y/L/N. Just because the hot guy wants to sit next to you, it does not mean he’s interested.

Going slow was never easy for you, which is why you were single. Your mind had a hard time differentiating between guys who were being friendly and guys who were interested. One would think with age and time, those kinds of problems would be sorted.

“Beautiful day.” You offered. Not really knowing what to say.

He hummed in response. “I’m looking forward to the cooler weather. I hate always feeling over dressed this time of year.”

You nodded. Giving him a small smile. “Same.” You said, gesturing to your long-sleeved blouse. At least you had opted to go bare legged. “It’s not so bad in the shade.”

This small talk is killing me.

Steve nodded his head. “How’s your schedule this semester?” He asked.

“Only two courses. Think I’ll manage.”

“Nice. I’ve got four, but two are twice a week.”

“Ouch. I’ve always hated those.” You replied.

He smiled. Eyes crinkly as he looked at you. “Why haven’t I seen you before?”

“I’m new here.” You said, shrugging one shoulder.

“Well, you can count me as your official welcoming party.”

You laughed. “I give you my thanks then.”

A small alarm sounded in your briefcase. Reaching in you pulled out your phone seeing you had twenty minutes until your next class. Not knowing where all the buildings were, you wanted to give yourself plenty of time to get there and hopefully find a seat in the back.

“I better get going.” You said, standing up and grabbing your bag. “It was nice to meet you Steve Rogers, History.”

He stood up as well, laughing hard, throwing his head back slightly. “You as well Y/N. I hope to see you around campus more.”

Your face flushed and you hoped he didn’t notice. “Hopefully.”

You quickly turned your back to him heading in any direction to get away from the handsome man. Not that you really wanted to run away, but you didn’t want to ruin something that hadn’t even started by saying something stupid.

After walking aimlessly for ten minutes, you consulted the campus map on your phone and started walking in the correct direction. You reached the History building with a few minutes to spare. The room wasn’t far down the hall and all rooms were numbered legibly. Finding the door was still open, you felt relieved. The room was a large lecture hall with stadium seating. Stepping inside you felt a small wave of panic as most seats were occupied with only a few open ones in the front rows and a couple single seats scattered in the middle.

Next week I am so getting here a half hour earlier.

You begrudgingly walked down the staircase, dodging careless backpacks left in your path. Sure, you wore heels daily to the office, but that was mainly at your desk or in a conference room, not down a large staircase with legs stretched out, ready to catch a victim not paying attention.

As you made your way down the steps to the mostly open first row, you couldn’t help but notice eyes on you. Instantly you felt self-conscious, thinking perhaps you had something on your face or coffee down your blouse. You took your seat and the eyes drifted away, back to their phones or conversations with the people they were sitting with.

They thought I was the teacher. That’s it, I’m changing at the office from now on.

You dug out a notebook and pen. Blue ink, not black of course. We all have our habits. You scribbled “History Beyond the Walls” on the front cover of the notebook. You picked the course randomly as you only needed a 200 level history class to complete the requirement for your degree.

The door in the back closed with a loud bang. A muttered sorry was heard and you, much like everyone else, turned around to see what caused the disturbance.

Whoa. Steve’s in this class.

You silently prayed that he’d take the seat next to you. Just for the camaraderie of adults going back to school, nothing more. Right? You continued to watch him descend the staircase hoping he’d see you. You subtly move your eyes to his left hand to check for a ring since you didn’t do so earlier. It’s naked which makes you smile. I suppose he could have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend.  

Shaking your head slightly to get out of your own mind, you go back to the intense eye contact that pays off as Steve sees you. His face is a mix of surprise and confusion. A small smile graces his face but it quickly fades. His eyes crinkle and small lines appear on his forehead. Head tilting to the side you hear a muttered “Y/N?” You give him a slight wave as he walks completely past you, setting his bag on the desk at the front of the classroom. Now it’s your turn to be confused.

Steve turns around and looks at you briefly before scanning the rest of the room.

“I’m Professor Rogers. Welcome to History Beyond the Walls.”

Well, shit.

Tagging: @thefanficfaerie @humandasaster @violetadefebrero @estillion14 @xxloki81xx @lookwhatyoumademequeue @thefandomzoneisdangerous @tanelle83 @symonlyjen5 @niaese @lilypalmer1987 @unlcvings @linkingdolans @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @allaboutthebooz @joannie95 @chita0027

[twoidiotwriters1]

Home- Chapter 3 (Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x F!Oc)

Words: 2,169

Warning: Curses= Cool stuff

Chapter 2 / Chapter 4

“Wow, stop there. Are we going to help them? ” Han growled, nodding. I put my hand on his shoulder and force him away from the boys. “Han, this may come at the hands of the First Order, He could see me! We are risking a lot ”

“Quiet, Kid. That will not happen. We will deliver the droid to Leia and then we will leave”

"Is that your plan?" I ask incredulously.

"Basically."

“Your plans never work, Solo. I have a bad feeling"

"Hey, we won't let him hurt you again, everything will be fine" I raise my eyebrows.

"He could hurt you too, Han"

“I don't believe it, but we will not reach those situations. Come on, Breathe”

_________________________________

“Chewie, I already told you that I will not. No matter how much you beg,” the Wookie continues to complain, among his growls I can understand that he already wants the bandage removed, even if he still bleeds a little. "I already told you no," I say and then leave the ship.

I walk ignoring Chewbacca and find the pretty planet that already knew, I know that the friend Han was referring to was Maz, I can't wait to see her again. I walk around the falcon to check if it has any other breakdown and when I don't find it I decide to go to the front, where Han and Rey are chatting while they see the lake.

"I was thinking of having more crew, Rey," I stop at Han's words. I frown uncertainly, he had never mentioned that before. “A second officer. Somebody help me. Someone to keep up with Chewie and me and appreciate the falcon”

Wait, what?

"But, I thought Kiara was your second officer," she replies. I am his second officer! "Wait, are you offering me a job?" Her tone changes, she seems excited.

I do not understand what is happening, Han is going to fire me? After so many years? How dare he? And without telling me before.

I feel a terrible pain in my chest and I move back so that I no longer listen to them. Did I do something wrong? I thought that-

In that Chewie and Finn walk out of the ship.

“Chewie," says Han turning "Check the ship," I already did it and he didn't even notice it, of course how was he going to do it? If you are preparing my replacement. I bite my bottom lip, he doesn't trust me anymore?

Ok, I can accept someone else in the crew, it would be great to have another girl on board, especially her, but Han said he needed a second officer. What about me? I’m not good enough, right? I tense my body when I look at Rey. A couple of sounds distract me, BB-8 approaches and tells me that the little stones around me shook for a moment, as if it were a tremor. Oh no.

"It's nothing" I sigh relaxing. "Sometimes it happens" without saying anything else, we all walk towards a construction at the end of the lake.

"Solo, why are we here?" Finn asks.

“To take your droid on a clean ship. The first order must have already detected us, we must change it to protect ourselves. Maz Katana is our best option to bring BB-8 to the resistance.” We arrive at the huge entrance of the building, high decorated with flags, symbols and statues.

"Can we trust her?" Finn asks.

“Relax, kid. She drove this trough for a thousand years.” We climbed the entrance stairs. "Maz is an acquired taste, so let me talk to me"

"Sure, as if that had worked for us before," I say sarcastically.

"Whatever you do, don't stare at it," he adds ignoring me.

“Stare at what?" Rey and Finn ask at the same time making me laugh.

“Nowhere”

The music plays and we find different types of creatures and races, Han and I get ahead, while the other two are admiring the place.

Suddenly we hear a shout "Han Solo!" causing all the attention to be focused on us. Great.

"Hi, Maz," Han says awkwardly. Maz approaches and everyone turns to their own business.

"Where is my boyfriend?" She questions.

“Chewie is working on the Falcon”

"I like that Wookie," She says making me laugh. She notices my presence. "Oh and my dear girl, Kiara," She adds taking my hands.

"It's nice to see you again, Maz," I said, leaning a little toward her small height.

"My pleasure, honey," She says adjusting her huge glasses and returns to Han. "But I assume they aren't here just to say hello." You need something, desperately. Let's get to the point,” She says, gesturing with her hand and walking to a table, we all follow her.

When we sit down, BB-8 tells her why we are here.

"A map? To Skywalker himself?” She laughs, looking at Han and me. "You got into trouble again," she teases.

"Maz, I need you to take this droid to Leia," She thinks.

“No," we all look surprised. "You two have long been escaping this fight. Go home,” I move in my uncomfortable chair.

"Leia doesn't want to see me," Han adds, denying.

"She would kill me if she sees me again," I feel the confused looks of Finn and Rey, but I ignore them.

"What battle?" Rey asks.

"The only battle, against the dark side" oh, here comes "Through time, I saw evil take many forms. The Sith, the Empire. Today the First Order. Its shadow spreads throughout the galaxy. We have to face them”

After that Finn goes defensive saying that no one can against the First Order. Maz analyzes it and notices that this guy just wants to run away. Rey tries to convince him, but he gets up and goes to other creatures that can help him. Rey follows.

"That went well," I say. I look up at the man, "I guess your crew broke again, Solo," I say smiling.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, just that you'll still be stuck with me and Chewie"

"What?" He frowns, but then changes to realize, "You heard me talk to Rey,” I clench my teeth.

“When were you going to tell me? Leaving me on some uninhabited planet? ”

"Kid, it's not what you think, I-"

"I know what happens, Han. I'm not 18 anymore." I get up from my chair and walk to the exit.

"Where are you going?"

"You should worry about my replacement," I say and finally leave.

I walk towards the forest, my anger clouds my senses and all I can do is move on without knowing exactly where I'm going.

Among the trees, with my eyes fixated on my feet, my only company is the animals that live there, but the sound of nature is replaced by the same voice that has been chasing me, this time it is not a whisper.

I stop and look up looking around. Then you are a threat, it’s heard as an echo between the trees, followed by the sound of a lightsaber being activated. My head goes in all directions trying to find the origin of the voice, but there is no one else.

The pain in my head interrupts the sounds and every time it is more stabbing, I close my eyes. Now what I can hear is the agitated beat of my heart. My legs fail and I fall to my knees, screaming in pain until a memory comes to my mind.

Smoke enters the cabin causing Kiara to wake up confused. With difficulty, she sits on her bed and begins to cough. She doesn’t understand what is happening, with her sleepy eyes she can see that a powerful light enters the small wooden openings of her cabin. She gets out of bed and without thinking takes her lightsaber and leaves.

Bewilderment and fear govern her surroundings: everything is engulfed in flames, cries of help from their companions are heard in the distance. She looks to her right towards the path of the other cabins, she prepares to go, but a whisper interrupts her, at first she fails to understand and that is when she notices.

"Ben" whispers and looks straight ahead, she must go help others, but he is first. She returns and goes to the road to his friend's bedroom, but finds the cabin completely destroyed, his heart falls to think the worst. She shakes her head and closes her eyes for a moment concentrating on feeling the bond they both share.

"Ben" says in her mind, nothing, "Ben!"

"Kiara, you must come with me,” he replies causing relief in the girl.

"Where are you? You're good? We must help others, someone is destroying everything,” She says and opens her eyes.

"Come with me.”

"Ben, listen to me. Do you know where Luke is?" She returns to the other cabins.

"Stop!" She obeys, scared by the shout, "you must come with me, forget them, everyone is already dead,” She frowns. She can feel the danger everywhere, "Luke is the cause of all this.”

"No, that's not true,” tears fall down her cheeks, "they are screaming, we can still do something"

“Everything is lost, Kiara. Go to the temple entrance. We're both in danger, I won't let Luke hurt you. ”

"No! Enough!" I scream towards the forest and I sit on the ground. My cheeks are wet and my chest rises and falls quickly, "No more tricks!"

Suddenly I hear the sound of engines, I look up and a group of ships cross the sky, they are ships of the First Order.

“BB-8," I clean my face and get up quickly, returning to Maz's building. When I have vision of the entrance, the blaster shots start by making me stop. The ships shoot at the buildings, they all shout and run when they see the stormtroopers.

"We won't get to that," I repeat Han's words. “Sure"

I take out my blaster while I run and shoot the soldiers that I find on my way. In a moment I must hide among a pile of rubble to avoid the shots, only when I think it is convenient, I look out and continue with the fight.

"Where the hell is she?" I hear Han's scream among all the noise.

I look carefully, but I can't see where they are, so I hide and return to the forest, behind a leafy tree. In the distance I see Chewie and Han running in the opposite direction to mine. My next move is to change places, for a shot against my tree stops me and by reflection I bend down, with difficulty I go towards some rocks. Through the small spaces between rocks, I can see four stormtroopers raising their weapons towards my direction. "Shit."

"Will she be the girl they are looking for?" says one of them.

"I don't know, but we must take her"

The girl they are looking for? Rey.

The shots stop and I hear his steps approaching me. I smile at the thought of an idea and keep my blaster behind my pants.

"Please stop," I say, raising my arms out slowly. "Don't hurt me, I'll go with you" Such a good actress.

"Wait for her and warn Kylo Ren,” two of them approach, while another pulls out a small device, and I take advantage of the distraction.

"We have the girl-" I take out my gun and shoot at four. Everyone falls easily.

"No, you don’t.”

Suddenly I hear screams, but this time they sound excited, they are screams of victory in the distance, different ships fly and attack those of the First Order. The resistance.

"Back off!" the soldiers stop attacking and run to their ships.

I run back to the fortress. Several huge pieces of concrete obstruct my path, so I climb one of them to have a better vision and to continue.

Everything changes when my sight falls on a specific enemy ship. The entrance ramp is down and a black figure with a girl in her arms walks towards her.

"Holy Shit,” My feet fail and I fall to the ground covered with debris and glass. I complain when I feel something bury in my back.

"Kid!" Han comes to my side, "Are you alright?"

"My ego hurts right now," I say getting up with his help. When I'm already stable, I don't hesitate to hit his shoulder hard.

"Why was that?" He says complaining. “You should respect your elders, girl”

"Will we just hand them the droid and leave?" I yell at him and he makes a face.

"Did he see you?" He questions worriedly. I shake my head.

"I don’t think so"

"Rey!" We both turn to the other voice. Finn screams at the ship where Kylo Ren entered a few moments ago. Wait, he has Rey and she...

"Oh no…”

"What?" Han asks. My hands shake as I realize.

"I won’t be able to hide anymore"

[hardforbenhardy]

somebody to love | rogerxreader

summary: roger fucking taylor. the boy in your biology class. the boy you’ve had a crush on for years. the boy who doesn’t know you exist. has recognised your existence. 

warnings: swearing, drinking, references to sex and stripping

word count: 4.0k

the first chapter of my upcoming fanfic! i’ve been working on this for a while, and it’s still not finished so i’m not sure how often i’ll update, but i’m planning on having a taglist for it so if people do like it, they can be alerted of when it comes out (if you want to be added, just pm me or send in a request!) i’m immensely proud of it and i think it’s some of my best writing - a lot of research went into it so i’m happy with the outcome so far and i hope you will be too. enjoy!! :)

There truly was no worse day than a Saturday.

I know, I know - but Saturday's are the best! There's no school, no work, you can sit around and chill all day, or go out clubbing with all your friends; maybe even pull a dude or two...

That may be the case for every single other person in the world, disincluding you. You see, your life is a little different to the usual person. Most people do spend their weekends sitting around, or going out with their friends, pulling girls and guys every night. You, on the other hand, spend it studying and working. You can safely say that taking a BSc in Biology at North East London Polytechnic was maybe the biggest mistake of your life yet. Don't get yourself wrong, you am good at it. In fact, you’re top of my class - you just struggle to balance all the studying with your job and family life.

Hence why you are sat at your dinner table, surrounded by a sea of glossy biology textbooks which contain much more information than your brain is willing to retain at this point. The words had began twisting in your eyes, no longer forming sentences but rather just squiggles on a page. Your pretty sure you have read the same page 3 times in the past hour, all information going through one ear and straight out the other. What the fuck was a bacteriophage? Or what about it being icosahedral or filamentous? And what was the difference between the lytic stage and the lysogenic stage? At this point, those weren't even words. Okay, so maybe you have been sitting here since 11 this morning, it now being 7 in the evening, but this was your standard Saturday. Having work every weekday in the evenings - 7:30pm until 3:00am - with your classes then starting as early as 9:00 on certain days, you didn't exactly have enough time to study on weekdays. Sleep was practically nonexistent for you by now, you were lucky to even get in 4 hours a night. Unfortunately for you, work also existed on Saturdays. You are probably thinking why don't you study on Sundays? Well, because Sundays were family days - you’d have to travel 3 hours to see your Ma and Pa, who would tell you how proud they were of you, doing a BSc in a subject that would get you far, and having a solid job that brought income for the whole family. Granted, they had absolutely no idea what your job actually was - and it isn't something they will ever know - but you don't really have a choice. You need to pay for your accommodation somehow, and contribute to the families bills after your father got fired from his job and went into severe debt. Therefore, it was a job you resorted to. In fact, you have work in 30 minutes, and here you are - trying to cram in a chapter's worth of course content for a test you had on Monday, surviving on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

You felt your arms begin to weaken under the weight of your head as you placed it into your palms, your eyes beginning to flutter shut as you gradually dozed off, the lack of sleep taking it's revenge. It wasn't until the loud, boisterous voice of your roommate interrupted the silence.

"Y/N, darling, have you seen my- Oh, love, what on earth is this disaster?" He cringed, sitting opposite you on the table, as you frantically sifted through the mound of worksheets for one in particular. "Look, darling, you need to sort this out. You look like you've been dragged through the bushes and back - you have work in 26 minutes and you are not even dressed!"

"Wow, thanks Freddie. Look, I don't really have a choice - if I don't have this topic nailed, I may just fail my exam, and then what? My life rides on this Fred, and I'm completely and utterly fucked if I fail." you wearily ranted, a yawn escaping your lips, which certainly didn't go unnoticed by Fred, as he placed a fresh mug of coffee in front of you - unbeknownst it was your fourth one tonight.

"Y/N, don't be so dramatic - there is only room in this flat for one hysterical queen, and I'm afraid I took that role many years ago. There is absolutely no way that you, Y/N M/N L/N, could ever fail a biology exam - you are the top of your class, and as much as you deny it, you know this content like the back of your hand. Look, I'll prove it - what is a bacteriophage, and what are the three possible shapes?"

"It's a virus which can infect and kill bacteria - the capsid of a bacteriophage can be icosahedral, filamentous, or head-tail in shape." The words simply rolled off your tongue, as you kept my focus on the textbook in front of you.

"Told you so, bet you were questioning in your head just 5 minutes ago what the fuck a bacteriophage is, and all that other shit you just said. I know you like the back of my hand, darling - you underestimate yourself far too much. Now put the fucking books away and get ready for work!" He nagged, taking a long sip of the glass of champagne he had acquired out of nowhere - typical Freddie. You didn't even respond, just simply rolled your eyes before rising to your feet to head upstairs. Freddie knew how much you hated your job, it was not exactly one praised by society. You’re what people would call an exotic dancer - or more commonly known as a stripper. It wasn't an occupation you asked for, it was rather one that was simply opened at a rather opportune moment for you. You can safely say yoinwill be taking the chance to quit as soon as you get your degree and can move on, but you’re stuck with it for the time being. You hate it on multiple levels - the feeling of having multiple older men's gaze set on your body, as if you were some kind of object, their minds wandering to all the things they could do to you if given the chance - it wasn't exactly a nice feeling. It is truly disgusting the amount of times you have been called a whore, slut, slag, floozie, tart, or prostitute - the list is ultimately endless at this point. What is even funnier is that it tends to be these same people who then turn up to your showings later on in the evening, indulging in your performance like every other male in the club. To make it worse, people often tell you you’re lucky to have guy's attention all the time - as if you should be proud of the fact that you have a body and face admirable by men. You always thought that was complete and utter bullshit - why the fuck should a guys validation make youbody and face suddenly attractive? Thankfully, most of the men who came to the club tended to be a little older than yourself - meaning there was never any guys from the university, or even better your class, who would come by. The only person who actually knows your truth is Freddie - who even though he did disapprove of it, would always try to cheer you up and make you feel more confident about it. You see, Freddie is extremely overprotective of you, he treats you like his little sister - he always wants you out of harm's way, always makes sure you were eating and getting at least 5 hours of sleep each night, always lends you money in your most desperate times of need, and opened his home to you the night you met him. It's funny actually - you remember that night so extremely vividly. He had come along to one of your performances, and ended up bumping into you backstage - you engaged in a conversation which lasted nearly the whole night, and before you knew it, it was 2am. He asked to walk you home, to which you simply had to reply with the fact you didn't have one and you were just planning on crashing on the couch in your dressing room. Of course, Freddie being Freddie invited you back to stay with him - any other person would be immediately cautious of the request, but at this point you had nothing to lose. And here you are, a month later and you were now living with him. He was basically the best roommate you could ask for.

The club is like a second home, or house - you wouldn't consider it very homely. Although the case was rare, if there was ever a point you couldn't stay at Freddie's, they allow you to sleep on the couch in the dressing room. Thankfully, your colleagues and the manager are all extremely nice people, it is more the visitors who get on your nerves and made you sick to the stomach. Basically a majority of the other girls you work with are in the same position than you; they are either college students just trying to pay off debt, or teenage mothers whose boyfriends left them after finding out they were pregnant who were trying to finance their child - everyone had their own individual story but in a way, you were all similar. Like you said, it is a second home to you, so when you stepped inside for the 6th time this week, it felt no different. The strong smell of booze and drugs no longer hit you like a brick, but rather became a second nature to your brain. The booming music, blaring at top volume from speakers which were scattered in nearly every crevice of the room, had become the norm for your eardrums - which realistically is bad for your health, but you didn’t think that's the thing that'll kill you at this point. The masses of men crowded around tables no longer made your stomach churn, now it just became the same old same old. You weren’t actually on stage until 8:00 tonight, so you don't know why they had you in half an hour early - you had already finished your makeup and got dressed. You leant against the bar, downing the first of what would be many complimentary drinks you would receive over the night - as much as you hated the job, it did have it's benefits. Free booze was probably the best thing to come out of it, when men would buy you drinks in hopes of getting you in their bed - all of them being nearly twice your age, they were never successful, but it was fun to watch 'em try. They would often strike up a conversation with you, the topic of which was always him, meaning you’d stand there responding with simple nods and the occasional burst of laughter - your mind in a completely different world of its own, usually a world of worry and anxiety of failing your exams.

"So, where is it you work? I could definitely see you working in an office or as a lawyer, I can imagine you would look very professional in a pantsuit, or even on the front cover of Vogue, you certainly have the body" The man, who had now situated himself beside you, practically purred. Was he seriously asking where you worked? What an imbecile. The whole ordeal is making you sick to your stomach, earning an eye roll in an instant - though you thought you’d play along to see where exactly he was going to go with this.

"Well, you wouldn't be interested in my life..." you laughed lightly, slowly and seductively inching closer to him. "But... I'm interested in yours. Tell me, where is it you're from, I love your accent."

"Oh, well I'm sure that isn't true, but I was actually born and bred in Italy - I moved here a few years ago, but thankfully I never lost the accent; it's a great tool for getting the girls in bed - especially the incredibly tempting ones such as yourself." He purred down your ear, you felt his breath on your neck and yourblood suddenly ran cold, as he placed his hand against the curve of your spine. Tempting?

You laughed under your breath in utter disbelief, your blood began to boil - how can someone be so small minded and narcissistic, yet spend their weeks in a strip club. "So you think I'm tempting?"

"Obviously, I mean you're super sexy and you really turn me on." He winked, and you stared at him incredulously.

"Well, you wanna know what I find incredibly tempting about you?" - he didn't speak, just simply nodded as he took a large gulp, as if he was intimidated by you. You moved closer, so that your hand was now placed against his inner thigh, and raised to your tiptoes - "There's just a deep pit burning in me, it's almost irresistible - just the thought of it is alone is so extremely enticing. I just have this immense desire to..." you whisper seductively in his ear, right as you ram your knee between his legs, making him cry out in a yell of pain and fall to his knees. " Do that." you grinned, before grasping the drink from the counter and gradually pouring it onto his head, the alcohol seeping through the thin material of his shirt, surely leaving him in a satisfying discomfort for the rest of the night, as if the hit to the balls wasn't enough. "And that"

"What the fuck? You fucking bitch!" He screamed, his voice going higher than you ever thought a man's voice could go, probably a side effect of his now undoubtedly swollen and painful misters.

You didn't respond, simply sashaying away as you raised my middle finger in his direction. You must say, after months of working in this club, you have practically become immune to the disease you like to call men. They just don't turn you on anymore. Don't get yourself wrong, not all men are like that - for example, Freddie is undoubtedly one of the sweetest human beings to walk this earth - but it seems like the men you’re surrounded by are basically parasites. Probably just a side effect of working in the hornets' nest, all kinds of trouble was stirred up in this building, it pretty much became the second (less sexual) form of entertainment for the customers. And you guess it's just your luck, because now it's your calltime. Your favourite time of the night - not. You entered the door, sighing a little. Come on, Y/N, you got this girl, just a little while longer and you can be back in the comfort of your bed. You always have to give yourself a little pep talk as you walk towards the door of what was, in a way, the gateway into Hell. That's if hell was a strip bar full of cheap and sleazy, lest we forget to mention mostly married men. All staring at you like food on a silver platter. It is quite frankly, disgusting. The walkway this week had silky, white curtains that the dancers usually appear through; as if to give the 'illusion' of us being 'angels appearing through the veil of the heavens'. You called bullshit on that one, that's also partly the reason your outfit was made up of a satin white robe, covering your lacy white lingerie. They also recently decided that the dancers should dust themselves with gold glitter before going onstage - thinking it might make you seem a little more angelic. Of course it doesn't, but you couldn’t lie - you looked incredible; the insubstantial underwear hugs your body in all the right places, yet still leaving little to the imagination; and the shimmer of gold across your chest only accentuating it more as the bright lights radiates your skin; your long locks flowing down your back, swinging with every step you took as you saunter onto the stage. Sudden cheers and whistles erupted from the crowd, the oh so familiar sound permeating the room with energy and excitement. The noise only increased as you little by little slid the satin piece down your shoulders to reveal the straps of the two-piece underneath, letting it slide down your body completely and pool around your feet on the floor. Usually, you would feel comfortable on stage, the fact you were borderlining nudity wouldn't phase youbone bit; but something felt different tonight. You have the same audience, the same form of outfit, same routine - but something feels strange, out of place, and you can't quite decipher it. You brush it off, knowing it's probably just nerves, and continue with your set - swaying around the stage, showing off your assets from every angle; and that's where you saw him.

Hidden in the corner of the room, he sat in a dimly lit spot making him barely visible thanks to the broken light which had been smashed a few days ago in a drunken bar fight. Perching forward in a lounge chair, he continually lifted the lit cigarette that was resting between his middle and index fingers towards his rosy lips, taking long drags every few seconds. As his golden, scraggly-but-still-well-groomed locks were clinging to the sides of his face, you notice his steel blue gaze dancing over your body as he scans you up and down.

Roger Fucking Taylor.

The same Roger that was in your biology class. The same Roger that was constantly trying to one up you and be the top of the class (unsuccessful in his attempts of course). The same Roger that you had had a crush on since you the course. The same Roger that didn't even know you existed. He had never been partnered with you, never spoken to you, never even looked in your direction. When you first entered the course, you had heard all about Rogers, how do I put this nicely, reputation with the ladies - making youbinstantly cringe at the utter disrespect of some of the things he had apparently done with them. But after a few weeks, you couldn't help but be drawn to him - he has an undeniable charm that he probably doesn't even know he's using half of the time, he is incredibly intelligent, and it is indisputable that he is the human form of the Greek God, Adonis, himself. You hate yourself for feeling this way, you always attempt to push it down as you know it'll do you no good in the long run. Like I said, Roger is known for his wild adventures with the women; and you weren’t one to participate in the activities of said adventures. Having a job as a stripper, people expect me to be extremely confident and out there, a lively socialite who is the life of the party, always being the centre of attention. I am, in fact, the complete opposite. When I'm not at work, I'm exceedingly reserved and introverted - I have one friend, Freddie; I only ever contribute to class when asked a question, other than that I sat at the back taking my own notes; I spend any spare time I have at home watching tv or reading a book. Therefore, I know I have a 0.00001% chance of Roger even acknowledging my existence - which I am fine with. I accepted my defeat months ago. And now, he's sat here watching me dance around, practically naked.

After finishing my set, I pace off stage- praying to Jesus that Roger didn't recognise it was me. He barely even notices me in lessons - surely he doesn't know me. What if he does though? What if he goes around school telling all his friends that I'm a fucking stripper? I'd be well and truly fucked - and not in the good way. I have never left the club faster than I did tonight, throwing on my clothes and fleeing through the backstage exit. My head is pacing, as clouds of worry and thought occupy the space - how am I ever going to face Roger again? What if he tells people? What if he is disgusted by me? I can feel my hand shaking as I try to unlock the apartment door, in which I throw open and slam behind me.

"Home so early, darling?" I could hear Freddie's voice from the living room shouting through, before the loud pop of the champagne bottle in his hand - presumably his second tonight. I threw my bag to the side before storming into the room and slumping down next to Freddie on the couch, releasing a large sigh.

"Yeah, work wasn't great" I groaned, noticing Freddie gesturing for me to take the bottle in his hand, to which I took a big swig in response; making Freddie chuckle.

"When is your work ever great? What's wrong, love?" He raised from the couch to grab himself a glass, knowing I'm not giving up this wine bottle as easily as he hoped.

"As you know, a majority of the men we get at the club are at least twice my age. Well, you remember Roger Taylor right?" I mumbled, focusing my attention to Freddie's glass which he held out in front of me, pouring the liquid in slowly as to not spill it all over the both of us.

"From your class? The one you have an undeniable love for? Yeah, I know him. What did he do?"

"Well, he turned up. He was sat in the back of the room. What am I to do Fred? What if he tells people that my job is basically prostitution? My life will be ruined. Not only that, but now my crush has seen me borderline naked, and prancing around the stage like some kind of... well, stripper" I cringed at the thought, it sounded a little stupid. Surely, I'd want my crush to see how good looking I can be? Not one bit.

"Oh god, what on earth was he doing there? Sounds like you have a bit of blackmailing yourself - Roger Taylor in a strip club-"

"Is exactly where I'd expect to find him if I'm being honest Fred - you know what he's like. I'd be surprised if it wasn't a place he visited everyday" I chimed in, I'm not lying. He is exactly the type of cocky, arrogant little shit who would find bliss in a strip club.

"Look, everything will be fine - you have two options, darling. You can either avoid him for the rest of your life, hoping he doesn't share the secret and ultimately ruin your life forever. Or you can fucking own it, and strut into school tomorrow like you are the shit and give Roger a piece of your mind - it's up to you, but I'm rooting for the second" Fred explained, trying reason with the one person he would never be able to reason with. I am quite stubborn when I want to be, and now is one of those occasions. "Now get to sleep, if you are home this early you should take advantage of it. Oh, do you have the money for rent?"

"Shit. Fuck. Fred I'm so sorry - I left in such a rush that I forgot to pick it up. I'll pay you Monday? I'm so sorry" I frettered, eyes widening at the realisation I not only couldn't pay Freddie, but I also can't pay my parents when I go down tomorrow.

"Darling, it's fine - I'll give you this week free of charge. You deserve it with all your hard work!"

Mouthing a small 'thank you', I smiled and nodded before slumping upstairs to my bedroom. As I reached my bed, I noticed all my biology books, which were previously scattered across the living room table, all stacked in the order of importance for the exam on Monday. I grinned to myself at Freddie's attempt of helping me study, although I know he only did it because he hates when I leave my books around the apartment. I can barely sleep, my eyes are refusing to close and my mind wanders back to Roger with every attempt of rest. I can't help but agonise over the situation; knowing something was going to go wrong and my life was going to be ruined.

[thorongil82]

Going Round on a Ferris Wheel

Words: 2531

Fandom: MCU Spider-Man (Spideychelle)

Taglist: @petermjtexts (I did promise a while ago) @seek-rest (they say you write sad stuff, right?) @spideychelleforever (for the little bit you wrote for me before)

You can read on AO3 here

Summary: What few people knew was that Peter loves carnivals. Ever since he was a young boy, he's believed that they are a truly magical place. Sometimes they bring you joy. Sometimes they bring you sadness. Sometimes you can win a prize at every stall you can find. Sometimes you can lose every chunk of food you've eaten that day.

And sometimes you'll see something you'll never see again.

A/N: Ok, so I've been drinking this Valentine's night (not because I had no one to be with, but I did have no one to be with), and churned out most of this tonight. The other was based on something I was planning on anyway. I would apologise, especially considering the day, but if I really wanted to apologise I wouldn't post it. So, there's your warning. Read on!

*****

Anyone who knew Peter Parker; whether they be friends, Avengers, classmates, bodega owners, or villains who he had locked away as Spider-Man, knew that he was a very kind-hearted boy with a wonderful heart. Yes, he could get angry at times - usually if someone he cares about is threatened or hurt by another, or if a certain duo consisting of a bird-man with a shield and a metal armed man keep prodding into embarrassing moments. But, he's known for being smart, sweet and caring, willing to help a stranger in a moments notice. Hell, some people would believe that he could find something to love about anyone. However, there are a few things that Peter loves and cares for above all else.

One of those is his Aunt May, who had taken him in with his Uncle Ben. He owed so much to her as she and Ben raised him with love and care, doing everything they could, despite their dwindling financial situation – especially after Ben's death – to make his childhood life a happy one. And when she found out about his superhero life, instead of freaking out and stressing herself to death like he feared – though she did initially – she was willing to support and encourage him no matter the outcome. Sure, she still would worry for her nephew's safety, as would anyone. But, she was willing to back him up through thick and thin, so long as he believed what he was doing was right.

Another is his beautiful girlfriend, Michelle Jones. Former decathlon captain, protest organiser for several environmental and feminist issues, casual journalist, keen-eyed observer, and enthusiast of the morbid and macabre. He'd fallen for her shortly before Thanos' armies attacked Earth and had tried a few plans before the ill-fated trip to MoMA to try and tell her how he felt. However, after the utter calamity that was their S.H.I.E.L.D. Interrupted European trip, courtesy of the legendary Nick Fury and Maria Hill, they did finally get together as they confessed their knowledge of his identity and their lives where threatened by a charismatic fish-bowl wearing director of special effects.

What few people knew was that Peter loves carnivals. Ever since he was a young boy, he's believed that they are a truly magical place. Sometimes they bring you joy. Sometimes they bring you sadness. Sometimes you can win a prize at every stall you can find. Sometimes you lose every chunk of food you've eaten that day.

And sometimes you'll see something you'll never see again.

*****

As Peter wandered through the carnival, he couldn't help but feel lonely as he travelled through the stands all alone. Since he heard that a circus would be in the district roughly a month prior to their arrival, he had desperately wanted to bring MJ along to the festivities. However, he didn't know if it was possible, as MJ was oversees in Berlin for an exchange student program for her journalism course at NYU, and they weren't too sure when she would be coming back. Only a week ago did they know that she was meant to be coming back today, which sent Peter into a giddy fit trying to plan this wonderful surprise date out. As much as they would need to study for exams; Peter needing to nail the theory for his Advanced Nanotechnology unit and MJ needing to piece together her evaluations for her Journalism assignment based on the events going on in Berlin while she was there – a specialised exercise determined for those in the exchange program – he believed that a nice date night surrounded by the joyous energy, flashing lights and pulsing music would be a great way to relax and reconnect with one another. The fact that they had been video calling one another every single day meant nothing when it came to truly standing in each other's presence, holding onto each other.

When Michelle had first told Peter that she would be coming back today, the glorious information acquired as his Spider-Man persona about the circus and carnival was perfect. He was so excited to surprise her homecoming by bringing her out for a night of joyous adventure the likes of which only children could ever truly know. However, that plan went down the drain as they found out that her flight back had been cancelled, and the next flight was the following day. Seeing as there was nothing they could do, and that tonight was the last night of the carnival, Peter decided to go anyway. Who knows? Maybe he could find something to give to her there instead.

One by one Peter had made his way through the rides and prize stands; more the former than the latter. He had even won a reasonably (see oversized) rabbit that was cradling, beyond all luck, a bouquet of plastic black dahlias, from a hoop toss stand that had been rigged by the owner – though not expecting someone of his talents (see superpowers) to show him up – that he would bring to Michelle when she touched down. He had made his way though each of the rides, and finally all that remained was the Ferris Wheel.

While he stood at the end of the severely dwindling line, a slight chill tore through his body before he threw a hand out and caught a little stuffed Spider-Man toy that that been thrown at his head. Having caught the toy aimed at the back of his head, Peter turned around to see a somewhat solemn MJ smiling back at him with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, nowhere near the genuine grin that he had realised over the last few months she reserved just for him. His eyes glance slightly to the cane by her side, along with the slight reddish stain to her upper leg, before returning to her own eyes.

“MJ!” he cries out, running over to her – not completely registering her demeanour – and pulling her up into a tight hug, easily lifting her off the ground and spinning her round in his arms. “You said you weren't coming back today!”

“Well, I thought I'd surprise you,” she replies tersely, glancing around before he sets her back down. “Can't say I'm shocked to see you here.”

“I'm certainly surprised to see you!” he grins, turning towards the Ferris wheel. “Do you want to join me?”

When he turns back and holds out a hand to her, he observes as she glumly looks towards his hand before grabbing it with his. He does remember how she was never one for excessive PDA – no matter the situation – maybe she's still a little uncomfortable. However, as soon as her now unusually pale bronze skin touches his, a frosty chill crawls across his skin, sending him into a tense shudder.

“MJ, are you feeling well?” he asks, putting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Do you need to head home?”

Michelle replies with a simply shake of her head as her chilly grip tightens around his hand.

“I'm fine,” she answers, the grip growing more intimate as she wraps herself around his arm and rests her head against his shoulder. “I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be with you.”

Peter nods and they silently saunter to the front, MJ hobbling along with her cane as she leans more on her boyfriend, until finally they get to a carriage. When Peter hands the pimply teenage operator two tickets, he takes them with an odd glance back at the young adult, but lets the two on and they pile into a cart, the stuffed bunny sitting next to Peter and the Spider-Man plushie leaning against the back of the chair next to MJ.

“I used to love being on these things,” MJ confesses as the ride jerks to life, lurching round from its resting place as the wheel starts to spin. “My mother used to take me up all the time.”

She folds her arms on the edge of the open window and leans her chin on it, glancing down at the people below.

“We used to play a game,” she explained. “We'd pick out people in the crowd and pretend we were them, talking about anything stupid that we thought we could imagine happening in their lives.”

“Would you like to do that?” he asks, waiting tills she spins around to look at him. Unusually, he finds her looking back with a couple of tears trickling down her face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, getting a nod from her, even though it seems to manage to send a few more tears trickling down her cheeks. “MJ, you're crying.”

“A-Am I?” she stammers, her arms quickly reaching up and wiping away at her face. However, that fails to stop the tears from falling more and more.

“MJ?”

“I'm fine,” she whispers, a small sad smile gracing her face. “I just missed you … so much.”

“I missed you too,” he replies, grabbing her weirdly cold hands and cradling them in his own. While holding her hands, he tries to discreetly glance at the obviously wounded leg, the injury bleeding through her clothes. Nevertheless, MJ's ever keen eyes manage to pick up on his curious peek.

“I was shot.”

“What?!”

“Just before I flew out, a madman attacked the hotel I was staying at,” MJ explains, gripping onto the cane and shuffling over to Peter's side of the carriage. She winces as she steps down on her injured leg, managing to hold herself on the first before collapsing onto him on the second. With his help, she manages to make her way onto the seat next to him, slightly moving the rabbit across to make room.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“There wasn't anything you could do.”

“But MJ-”

“Peter!” she shouts back, getting him to wince and back up a little. Michelle takes a short breath before dropping her voice.

“There wasn't anything you could do,” she softly repeats. “We were on a completely different continent. Even if you got there, it would've still been too late.”

“But I could've helped-”

“You can't save everyone, Peter!” she says, looking away as her voice starts to break into a whisper. “You can't save everyone ...”

“MJ …”

The carriage falls into a small moment of silence as they rotate round past the apex, rounding into a decent.

“... Why were you here?” she asks gently, her eyes fixating itself onto a certain point on the floor she's noted to be extremely important to look at.

“Well, I was wanting to bring you here on a date,” Peter explains, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “But, someone said they weren't coming tonight.”

“Says the guy who would drop into my room unannounced and leave a pool of blood on my carpet.”

“I mean, I could have died,” Peter said lively, trying to turn it into a joke. However, the smile on his face quickly fell as he saw that it didn't spread onto her beautiful face.

“Yeah … you could've ...”

“MJ ...”

“So ..” she perks up, clearing her throat, “why did you still come here?”

“Well, I figured I'd get you something,” he replies, gesturing to the stuffed rabbit. Her eyes roam across it in the usual disinterest that he's used to seeing her act with, until they come to the bouquet of her favourite murderous flowers. The straight poker face gives way to a simpering smile as she wraps her hands around the stuffed animal, burying her head into the flowers.

“You didn't have to,” she whispers, her voice starting to break again.

“I know,” Peter replies as he turns away, closing his eyes. “But I wante-”

 The words die in his mouth as his lips are met by hers in a soft, gentle, yet desperate kiss, her lips wet and cold as he opens his eyes in surprise. The slight image of the tears once more trickling down her face, through her own closed eyes, sticks into his mind before he closes his eyes as well and leans into the kiss, pushing back into her for what feels like a life time before he feels her pull away.

“I love you, Peter,” he hears her whisper against his skin, sending it crawling from her tantalising breathe.

“Wait for me ...”

 With the final whispering of MJs voice haunting his ears, Peter's eyes jerk open as the carriage sways to a stop at the bottom. Glancing around, there is no sign of anyone else in the cart with him; no MJ, no cane, and no stuffed rabbit. All that remains of any sign that MJ was ever in there with him is the Spider-Man plushie that she had thrown at his head, along with the damp speckles where her tears had fallen. Grabbing the plushie, Peter dashes out of the carriage and looks around, but cannot see a single small sign of Michelle anywhere that he looks. Glancing back, he approaches the glum teenager operating the Ferris wheel.

“Hey, did you see where the girl I was with went?”

“Girl?” he drones, taking the tickets for another couple clutching lovingly onto each others arms. “What girl, man?”

 With a frustrated sigh, Peter turns away and takes off into the swarming crowd, trying to find his girlfriend. However, with the large bustling crowd, he cannot find even a single luscious hair from her head. When he tries to ring her phone, there's no response – the call going straight to voicemail. Leaving a message for her, he tries searching for her for several minutes before, tiredly, deciding to head home, still trying to ring her all the way back. 

*****

 Ned groggily wakes up to the sound of the TV running in the living room of his and Peter's shared apartment. Wrapping a fluffy dressing gown round his rotund body, he wearily staggers into the room to find the news sounding on the screen.

“Interpol have released details of the suspected terror attack in Berlin last night,” the news reporter relays. “The gunman, suspected to be linked with numerous terrorist organisations, attacked the Radisson Blu Hotel in the late hours of last night. Interpol have declared there were fifteen civilian casualties, along with seven individuals injured. Of those seven, three are in a critical condition.”

“Radisson Blu … Wasn't that where MJ was staying?” Ned mutters, before stopping as he hears a sobbing sound coming from the couch. Walking over, he finds Peter lying cross the couch, cradling a bloody Spider-Man plushie who's head has been shredded in a hole with something metallic shimmering deep within. Tears are flowing from his eyes as the superhero tightens his grip on the stuffed toy, holding it hard to his chest.

“Among the casualties is 21 year old Michelle Jones, a New York resident in Berlin as part of a transfer student program. Police explain she had been shot through the leg before being killed, and that they found her holding onto a large stuffed rabbit. For reasons they cannot explain, there was no blood on the rabbit. Her body will be flown back to be buried by her family.”

A/N: I did warn you … I'm sure some of you may hate me.

By all means, please let me know your thoughts. Doesn't matter if they're good, bad, constructive or what. I'd like to know what you think. And I promise that the next story I write will have a happier ending. Until then, adios!

[purpletigertaetae]

The Transfiguration Tutor

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 4307 words

Genre: Hogwarts AU, Slice of Life (as “life” as you can get in an AU) Fluff

Rating: PG

Warnings: None, I mean there's a lot of fluff, but not really any warnings

Notes: Okay, I’ve jumped out of my comfort zone SO MUCH with this fic (and this header that I made in like 0.2 seconds because I’m dumb and couldn't find anything I liked) Like I already don’t fluff well (If we’re being honest I don’t write anything well 😂), but this added Potterverse into the mix, which just GAH. This was actually supposed to be a oneshot for Namjoon’s birthday, but I’m so late I can't even use that excuse anymore. I’m so nervous typing this... But Enjoy! I hope you all like it! Also PLEASE GO CHECK OUT @thebluesyren‘s Moodboard! It’s what helped inspire this!

You stared curiously at the Ravenclaw prefect sitting in the library. His silvery hair parted carefully on the side, his thick rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and his thick lips twisted into a wry smile as he poured over his Charms textbook while twirling his quill over and over in his hand. You had been trying to work on your Potions essay until you saw Namjoon enter the library. You had carefully watched his every move while he gracefully maneuvered across the haphazard chairs and desks to find an empty corner. You watched as he approached the empty desk only to trip over his own two feet. He had smacked his hand on the desk to steady himself but had slipped some more, let out a stream of curses, and then he was lying on the floor his books around him; the ruckus causing everyone around him to giggle.

“Shh!” Madame Pince huffed from her desk, irritated by the noise.

Namjoon had stood up, brushed and smoothed his robes, sent a dimpled smile towards Madame Pince, and gathered his books to sit back down.

That was an hour ago. You had given up on your homework completely, doodling on extra parchment while staring at the clumsy genius. Slughorn would have to wait.

So, this was the boy who was supposed to tutor you in Transfiguration. Your grades, while stellar in every other class, were slipping in McGonagall’s class and she had worried you would not pass your final exams this year. She had told you to seek out a Kim Namjoon, well rather she had gushed over a Kim Namjoon and had told you to ask him for help.

“Kim Namjoon has the highest grades of this year. He will go far. You on the other hand, Miss Y/L/N, will need to improve drastically if you wish to continue on your path as a healer. You will need tutoring in transfiguration. And my recommendation is, you should ask Mr. Kim for help.” From McGonagall, that was high praise, and cause to worry on your end. You had decided that today would be the day you would talk to Namjoon, but you had been in the library for two hours, he for one, and still you were afraid to approach the handsome boy you were slowly getting softer for.

---

Three hours later and you literally had finished every essay due for the upcoming week except transfiguration. Namjoon, however, still seemed stuck on Charms. You looked at his face, forehead wrinkled in confusion, and decided that maybe you could strike up a deal.

You packed all your things and made your way over to his table.

“Namjoon right?” The boy looked up at you, confusion evident over his face. “Hi, I’m Y/N? Professor McGonagall told me to find you for some transfiguration help?”

His striking features smoothed out and a dimpled smile graced his face. “Hi Y/n. Yeah, McGonagall had talked to me, but uh, now isn’t a great time. I’m still struggling with the Charms homework.”

“Oh, is this the cheering charms essay? Here, let me see if I can help you!” You slid into the seat next to him, dropping your bag and books onto the table, while peering over his shoulder.

You carefully pointed out all of the information he had gotten wrong and explained the theory to him. Namjoon just watched you, eyeing you as you spoke, pointing to different passages in the textbook; your striking features looked lovely in the candlelight. Your eyes sparkled as you explained a particular passage to him. Your lips looked soft, and he caught himself wondering if that was true. Was he maybe falling for the intelligent woman sitting next to him?

“Earth to Namjoon? Namjoon? Namjoon!” He snapped out of his daydreams and looked at you, “Yes?”

“Did you get anything I told you?”

“Uhhh,” He scratched the back of his head, grinning sheepishly.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and sighed, “Namjoon, you’re going to have to pay more attention! Now focus!”

“Wait, y/n,” he placed his hand on your forearm, stopping your writing, “Why don’t we become study buddies?”

“What?”

“Well, think about it. You need help for Transfiguration and I definitely need help with Charms. How about we help each other?” Namjoon leaned back against his chair and looked you dead on, a small smile playing on his face.

You examined the boy in front of you and then the empty parchment that was meant for the transfiguration essay you hadn’t even started. You definitely needed help, and you wanted a way to repay him. Helping him with Charms would be the ideal way, and maybe you could even become closer friends.

“It’s a deal.” You thrusted your arm out and shook to seal the deal.

Namjoon sat up and grabbed his quill again, rifling through the textbook to find where he last left off.

“Great! Can we finish Charms first and then go onto Transfiguration? I haven’t started Transfig yet so we can work together!” Namjoon started rambling, but you cut him off swiftly.  

“That’s fine, but I’m warning you. If we’re stuck here all night, you owe me a butterbeer!”

Namjoon looked at you and grinned, “Deal. So, I understand the incantation for the cheering charm, but I definitely am confused on the theory and execution.”

You sighed deeply and then dove in. This was going to be a long night.

---

Four hours later and finally you both closed your books and leaned back in your chairs, resting your eyes.

With your eyes still closed you asked, “What is the effect when the Cheering Charm is too strong?”

Namjoon replied huskily, “Fits of hysterical laughter. What is the incantation to conjure a flock of yellow birds?”

“Avis, and a gunshot sound and smoke are aftereffects of the spell.”

“By Merlin, I think she’s got it!” Namjoon cracked open an eye and sent a genuine dimpled smile your way.

“Well, I’ve got the theory down for sure, but I’m going to need help with execution-”

“Now? Y/N… I’m tired!”

“No, not now. I’m wiped, but tomorrow? After dinner? We can find an empty classroom.”

“That sounds like a plan!”

You sat up and started packing up your bag, Namjoon copying your actions.

You both left the library, some of the last ones to leave, said goodbye to Madame Pince and started strolling back to the Ravenclaw tower in a comfortable silence.

As you climbed the stairs, Namjoon broke the silence.

“Y/n, you excel in all your other classes, why do you struggle in Transfig? Not that I’m judging or anything! I’m just curious.” He began scrambling in fear of having offended you.

You laughed at his expression, and then spoke, “I don’t know, to be honest. Defense, Herbology, Charms all came easy to me. Transfiguration doesn’t. It requires a type of concentration I just don’t have.”

Namjoon looked at you thoughtfully.

“I can understand that. Charms requires a sense of certainty, a sense of grace that I definitely have not acquired,” he spoke as he tripped over his own two feet.

“See what I mean!”

You chuckled as you approached the Common Room entrance. You slipped in and noticed that it was basically empty, just three students snoozing near the fire.

You both climbed the stairs and then stopped right before you were to go separate ways.

“Good night Y/N. Thank you for helping me.”

“Ditto, good night… Joon.”

Namjoon turned to make his way to his room, cheeks bright red. You had called him Joon. Only close friends had called him Joon. He looked over his shoulder at your retreating figure and mused. That name coming from you had sounded so sweet. He really wanted to hear it again.

You turned and walked to your room blushing hard. Joon? Where had that come from? The boy was endearing, and you definitely were soft for him, but this was uncharted territory. Though… he was a gentleman and one you really wanted to get to know better. Who knew, maybe this would be the start of a beautiful friendship. You shook your head and got ready for bed. This would be a thought for another time.

--

Namjoon and you continued your joint tutoring together for the next couple of months. You saw each other so often that a friendship began to blossom. You would talk late into the night, discussing your aspirations as a healer and his aspirations to become part of the Ministry. Most of the time you even joined him for his rounds; his partner always “forgot” though you both knew she was always with her boyfriend. Your blood boiled but Joon would always shrug it off with a smile, “it’s nothing I can’t do Y/Nie, though you’re welcome to join me.” You two would roam the castle, ending up in the astronomy tower and gazing at the stars before walking back to your dormitories. Rumors began swirling about the two Ravenclaws in love, but you both remained oblivious and ignorant. People could think however they wanted.

As you both approached your final exams, you began spending even more time together; his friends became yours and your friends became his, until one large group sat together for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was a mixed group; his friends were spread into all the houses: two in Gryffindor, two in Hufflepuff and two in Slytherin. But they all got along, and they definitely were a band of brothers that soon became your closest friends.

The last Hogsmeade trip, was right around the corner, right after exams. Namjoon had wanted to go with you for the longest time, but every time he would chicken out and everyone ended up going as a big friend group. This time though, he was adamant to spend some time with you. He caught up with you as you walked back from the Herbology greenhouses to lunch.

“Hey Y/nie!”

“Hey Joon! What’s up?”

“I have to run, but will you come on rounds with me tonight? I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure!” With your confirmation, he ran off, leaving you confused. What did he want to ask? You worried that maybe he was doing well in Charms and didn’t need your help anymore. You worried in your classes, when he sat next to you but wouldn’t talk to you; you worried at dinner, where he was noticeably absent; you worried up until you met him in the common room for rounds. He ushered you out and into the corridor and you both began walking. Usually the silence between you two was comfortable as you walked, but today it was suffocatingly uncomfortable until you burst out.

“Kim Namjoon if you don’t ask me what you’ve been wanting to ask me soon, I will kill you!”

“Y/n just be patient. I’ll ask you soon.”

“Do you not want to help me anymore? Do you not need my help anymore? Do you not want to study together anymore? Do you not want to be friends anymore? What is it?! Please! Let’s just work together until our exams are over and then I promise I’ll be out of your hair! Can you just tell me what you wanted to ask?!” Your voice grew more and more agitated as you continued on and on until you ran out of breath. Namjoon beside you just remained quiet with a small smile on his face.

God, you were so cute when you were angry.

He waited patiently until you finished your tirade, walking and observing quietly. When you quieted down, he spoke.

“Are you finished? Calm down Y/Nie, I still want to help you with Transfig, and I definitely still need your help in Charms. I don’t intend to fail my exams and I don’t intend for you to fail yours. We’re still friends! And… oh look we’re at the Astronomy Tower! Let’s quickly take a look and then we can continue this conversation.”

You stared at him dumbfounded as he ran forward. He was about ask you something. Why on earth did he stop? Ugh, he was infuriating sometimes.

You marched up the stairs behind him ready to chew him out until you saw him looking out on the balcony. When you laid your eyes on him, your eyes widened and you audibly gasped. He looked ethereal. The moonlight made him glow, bouncing off of his skin as he stared into the sky. The stars were mirrored in his eyes and his hair shone like silver; he really was stunning. He turned back to you and beckoned you forward with his hand, patting the railing next to him. You walked up to him and looked up at the night sky and whispered, “Beautiful.”

You could’ve sworn he said, “you too.” But when you turned to him, he was still looking up, admiring the sky. For what seemed like eternity, you both were silent, admiring the swirling stars twinkling merrily.

Every now and then you would glance over to him, wanting to break the silence, but his beauty would take your breath away again and you would look back up, not wanting to ruin the moment. Finally, you lost patience and broke the hushed silence to whisper, “Joon, what did you want to ask me?”

He looked down at you. His expression filled with something you hadn’t seen before. Was it love? Unbeknownst to you, you were mirroring the expression back at him. His tongue flitted out, wetting his lips, and your eyes flickered down to the movement, admiring the curve of his lips. Your eyes flicked back to his, as he cleared his throat, and his eyes flitted down to your lips as he leaned forward slightly. You tried to say something, but your breath got caught in your throat as you looked up at him. You hoped for something, anything to break this spell, but in this moment, you wanted to test the softness of his lips with yours. You wanted to feel his hands resting on your hips, not on the railing. You wanted him to bare his soul to you and you wanted to bare your soul to him. Maybe, just maybe you were falling in love with him, your moonchild. He opened his mouth to speak and suddenly you were afraid of what he might say. Your stomach filled with butterflies as this handsome man began to speak.

“Y/N, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me after exams. You know I really need to buy some new robes and I could use a friend’s eye.”

Your heart, which had been somewhere in your throat, instantly sank like a rock. He what? He made it very clear in that moment that he considered you just a friend. All of this, baring your soul, the environment, the moon, the stars, the whole thing you had made up. He was just admiring the stars like he always did, and your imagination was running wild again. You tried to rearrange your face into a friendly expression, trying not to betray the heartbroken mess you felt inside. “Sure! I’d love to help you!” Your voice caught in your throat, but you shoved your feelings away and cleared it a couple of times, swallowing the lump thickly.

“Joon, it’s late, I’m tired, I think I’m going to head back. I’ll see you tomorrow?” You turned and left, trying to keep your tears at bay until you found your bed.

Namjoon, on the other hand, couldn’t stop cursing himself. The timing was perfect, the atmosphere was perfect! He could’ve kissed you and everything would have been perfect! But his bloody brain spoke again. He chickened out! He mentally slapped himself. He would have to do better. God, he had wanted to kiss you, you had looked like an angel in the moonlight. He mentally cursed again. He should’ve just stopped at asking you to Hogsmeade after exams. What possessed him to say friend? He clutched at his hair in despair and looked back up at the sky one last time. The stars still glinted, and Namjoon knew that this had been the perfect moment. Argh, stupid brain, stupid mouth, stupid Joon. He turned away from the balcony and trudged back to the common room, feeling sorry for himself. He needed to figure out a way to see this through properly. You and he belonged together, that he was sure about. He just needed to grow some courage and ask you out.

--

After that night, the entire group knew something was wrong. On the surface, you and Namjoon still studied together, still hung out together, but the dynamic had changed. It was as if you both were toeing on eggshells around each other. However, final exams were fast approaching and the time to think about relationships was gone. Everyone had decided to grace the library with their presence and the careful silence was broken too often. You and Namjoon were always left searching for an empty classroom to study both theory and practical applications. Your first exam was Transfiguration and Namjoon’s first exam was Charms. Needless to say, both of your nerves had been shot. You both had attempted to stay up late the night before, hoping to cram, but by eleven, you knew that you needed sleep. Namjoon and you had called it a night and decided to try to get some rest for tomorrow.

You tossed and turned in bed that night, unable to calm your racing nerves. If you failed this exam, you were done. If you got anything lower than an Exceeds Expectations, you could kiss your Healer dreams goodbye. Plus, there was the issue of Namjoon. You definitely did not want to let him down. He had spent countless hours tutoring you, becoming your friend, and maybe more. How would you face him if you failed? You turned over and watched the clock on your bedside table tick over and over, the repetition providing relief to your otherwise churning thoughts. Watching the clock, you finally fell into a fitful sleep.

The next morning you were up at the crack of dawn. You dressed quickly and found your way down to your favorite abandoned classroom. That’s where Namjoon found you over an hour later pacing back and forth, mumbling transfiguration incantations to yourself under your breath.

“Y/N!” He grabbed you by the shoulders and peered into your eyes.

You were jolted out of your fervor, “Namjoon? What are you doing here?”

“Hobi told me you were here working yourself up! Y/N I need you to stop worrying!”

“Stop worrying? How do I do that? This is the Transfig final! If I don’t pass this, I’m done! There goes everything, my healer dream, all that we’ve worked for! I’ll have wasted your time too! I just…” You rambled on and on without even a breath. Watching you, Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Baby, hey no! No!” He pulled you into his chest into a tight hug and kissed the top of your head. Somewhere within you, butterflies erupted again. He was holding you awfully close.

“Y/nie, you are brilliant, you know this material and I know you’re going to ace this exam. You hear me?” You snuggled into his chest further, nodding tentatively at his words. He rubbed your back comfortingly and peppered your crown with kisses. “You are my intelligent, gorgeous, brilliant girl and I know you will achieve all your dreams.” Namjoon softly spoke sweet nothings into your head while you calmed down from your impending panic attack in his arms.

Something, though, niggled in the back of your mind. Did he… did he call you his girl? What did that mean? You wanted to dissect his words further, but the great clock chimed 8:00 and you knew you had to assemble for your exam. You tensed at the gong, pulled away from Namjoon, smoothed your hair and patted down your clothes with shaky hands trying to calm your nerves.

“Y/N you are going to do great, you hear me?”

“Thank you Joon. Good luck to you too.”

Namjoon caught your hand in his and you both walked, in silence, to the Great Hall where you were then separated. Namjoon would take his Charms theory and practical exam first while you would take your Transfiguration theory and practical exam. You two would meet up again at lunch.

As you entered the side room, your eye caught Namjoon’s one last time. He shot you a thumbs up, which filled you with hope and you gave him a silly grin back. At the silly exchange your heart lifted and you, for the first time, felt confidence lightly flutter through you. You might just pass this exam.

Once you were seated and the exam had been passed out, you took a deep breath and flipped over the paper. Question 1: What is the incantation to conjure a small flock of yellow birds? Please state and describe the aftereffects. You grinned, remembering back to your first meeting with Namjoon and began furiously writing.

-

You came away from the theory exam feeling pretty good, albeit a little confused. Every question you had answered you could remember Namjoon’s deep voice patiently explaining and reexplaining. For some, you could even see Namjoon’s face in your head smiling that dimpled smile at you, his loud laugh when you cracked a joke. Namjoon had permeated this exam for you and his personality had maybe gifted you with the correct answers.

When your test group regathered, it was time for the practical exam. There were 15 booths set up, each with their own examination proctor. The proctor would ask questions and you would have to execute the spell. When you entered your booth, you were faced with a wizened old woman who introduced herself as your  examiner.

“Hello Miss Y/L/N, I will be your proctor for today. My name is Professor Caldwell. Are you ready?” You nodded, gulping nervously. “Then, let us begin. First, can you conjure this cup into a small dragon?”

You let out a small laugh, remembering how you had learned the spell in the first place. Namjoon had dragged a chest in to the classroom thinking that the bigger the object the easier it would be for you to conjure. However, you had ended up chasing a relatively large dragon around the classroom while Namjoon tried and failed to put out the fire on his robes. Shaking your head, you cast the spell, “Draconifors!” and the quill began to change. Smiling, the proctor looked at you and continued on. You attempted spell after spell, only stumbling once or twice until Professor Caldwell placed her test papers next to her and stood up to shake your hand warmly. “Congratulations, Miss Y/L/N, you have completed the test.” You looked into her warm brown eyes, edges wrinkled with smile lines, and hesitated.

“Miss Y/L/N? Do you have any questions for me?”

“I- uh, Yes, I do. But I am not sure you can answer.”

“Go ahead, and I will make that judgement myself.”

“How-,” Your voice came out squeaky with nerves. You cleared it and started again. “How did I do? Did I pass?”

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, I’m technically not supposed to answer that, but on my end, you’ve definitely passed. Barring your theory score, I’d give you an Outstanding for the spell work you have shown me today. Congratulations!”

At her words, your heart soared, and the widest grin spread across your face. You shook her hand tightly, thanking her profusely and raced out into the Entrance Hall, looking for Namjoon.

As you pushed past the throng of people, you both locked eyes and before you knew it, you were sprinting to him. People around you parted as you rushed up to him breathlessly. Instinctively, his arms opened, and you threw yourself into them, jumping up to hug him. You placed both hands around his broad, his wide smile calming your racing heart, as his arms came around you and caught your thighs, holding you up while you wrapped your legs around him in a bear hug. He laughingly set you down after hugging, “So I’m guessing that the exam went well? Mine went really well!”

“It went amazingly well.” You grabbed both his hands and looked up into his eyes, happiness overflowing your being. He started to pull away, but you stopped him. “Wait, one second,” He looked at you confused, and you giggled, “There’s something I want to try.”

With that you leaned up on the tips of your toes and pressed a featherlight kiss to Namjoon’s soft lips. As you left his lips, you whispered, “Thank you. For everything.” You turned to leave, but Namjoon tugged your arm back into his embrace, and pushed his lips back on yours. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding and wrapped your arms around his neck while his hands slid around your waist as he deepened the kiss, throwing all his emotions into it. Your soft lips melded together, as if finally meeting. After what seemed like an eternity, you two separated and leaned your heads against each other, caught in your own little bubble, until…

“Finally!” Yoongi and the rest of your group let out cheers and then the entire Entrance Hall was clapping. Joon and you turned bright red, and you hid your head in his chest, embarrassed by the attention. Namjoon let out his barking laugh and kissed the top of your head. “Jagi, I need to ask you something, and this time I refuse to mess it up. Go to Hogsmeade with me?” You nodded enthusiastically, still smiling widely and Joon caught your hand tightly and brought you in for another kiss. Turns out finding a tutor for Transfiguration really did help you.

A/N: ITS SO LONG, I’M STILL NERVOUS ABOUT THAT. God, I gotta get better at writing. Lemme know what you think. And Back and Forth isn’t done, I’m just lazy about updating. I promise I will update that soon!

[thesmalltowngal]

Snowbaz #19- I’m Always Sure Of You

Otp Prompt #19: Simon insists that he’s okay with Baz’s homosexuality. So okay, in fact, that he demands that they go on a double date (Baz with Niall and Simon with Agatha). Of course, Simon is angry when Agatha seems to express interest in Niall… so he decides to flirt with Baz to make her jealous.

I know I haven’t posted in forever- I’ve just been so stressed and tired lately. This one is just five pages of fluffy filler sentences, but I don’t think it’s half bad.

“Baz, it’s fine,” I insist as he rolls his eyes. “I’m fine. I swear- here how’s this?” I take a step closer to him while setting up my proposition. “How about we go on a double date so I can show you how okay with it I am. I’m so okay with it.” I never thought Baz was gay. I mean, it would explain why he never had a girlfriend (but not how he never had a boyfriend- I would suspect that a fit bloke like him would attract every non-straight guy at Watford), but I just… I suppose I never thought about it before. But trying not to think about it after I found a pride flag in his notebook (he was showering and plotting- I was snooping) was bloody hard. 

He raises an eyebrow at me now (he knows I fucking hate it when he does that) before replying. “Snow, you don’t have to-”

I cut him off in a rush. “I know! I know I don’t have to but I want to. Agatha and I, and you and some bloke.” He thinks for a moment. (I didn’t think he’d actually consider it).

“I’d have to find a date.” He sneers at me. (But a soft sneer, if that makes sense). 

“Crowley, I’m sure it won’t be hard for you to find one…” I mutter, mostly to myself. He sighs defeatedly, and I know I’ve won. (Probably because he knows I’d never let up).

…

Agatha isn’t happy when I tell her the news. “Baz is what?!” She whispers furiously in the hall I pulled her off to. 

“Gay, Agatha. But that’s not the point. The point is that we’re going on a double date with him and a bloke this Saturday. Okay?” Her entire face falls, and I can almost hear the words that are probably pinging around in her head. ‘If Baz is gay, I don’t have a chance,’ or ‘Maybe I can convert him.’ But that’s not how it works. Because 1. She has a boyfriend, 2. Baz is our enemy, and 3. You can’t just convert someone. That’s not how it works, even if Agatha is the most beautiful girl at Watford. (If converting was possible, I’m sure Baz’d probably convert about half of the Watford boys). 

She thinks for a moment before saying, “I thought you hated Baz…” “I do,” The response is almost like an immediate reaction. Like I don’t even think about the answer before responding. It’s like the way it’s supposed to be- always has been. It’s a sure thing; like night and day. You can always count on the sun to come back up, and the moon to come out later, just as you can count on me hating Baz. “I do, but I just want to show him that I support him.”

“Why?” She crinkles her nose and furrows her brow. Why do I want to support Baz? I suppose I don’t really bloody know. 

“Well because I… well I- I don’t really know, Aggie. It just feels like the thing to do.” As she nods her head, I smile and squeeze her hand before walking away, mentally preparing myself to see Baz in class when I feel as though I know some sort of big secret that is meant only for my ears. (Even though technically he never formally told me- I had to find out by snooping).

…

Baz looks weirdly handsome in a green suit. Granted, he looks bloody handsome in anything (the tosser), but this green suit looks especially good on him. It fits him just right, snug in the correct places without showing off too much (although I suppose he does have plenty to show off, I’m sure). His hair (usually slicked back) is falling in waves around his face, framing his sharp jawline and cheekbones. (It makes his eyes look bluer; his hair, that is). He made reservations at an Italian restaurant off campus (we got special permission from The Mage to go), so everyone is dressed up kind of fancy. I felt like a blundering git when I had to ask Baz to borrow a suit. He had a grey one that fit me just fine. 

Getting ready together is kind of weird- especially since we’re going out together in a little bit. Well not together together. Just… to the same place. Usually when we get ready in the morning, we go to the same place but we leave at different times. Now, we’re wordlessly moving around each other, getting ready separately to go to the same place at the same time. Every now and then I’ll look over at Baz and he’ll say ‘Stop staring, Snow,’ so I’ll look away and blush. (I can’t help but blush. Not because I’m embarrassed or anything, but because it’s my body’s knee jerk reaction). 

I decide to break the awkward silence as we’re finishing getting ready and putting our shoes on. “So… who are you going with?” He looks at me curiously but then just sneers. 

“Niall,” He says it simply, but when seeing my eyes pop out of my head, he clarifies. “We’re not together, you bloody halfwit. Although he’s bi, he’s not my type.” He lets out a short laugh and I can’t help but wonder who actually is his type. Probably someone posh and rich and perfectly controlled. 

“So then why not go with someone you like?” I inquire. He looks at me for a moment, thinking. (Maybe plotting). 

“I am a collectible that very few can acquire, Snow,” He scoffs and stands, looking at me expectantly. “Ready?” I nod and get up to open the door for him. He simply rolls his eyes and says (voice heavy with sarcasm), “How chivalrous.” I just roll my eyes and close the door behind us. 

…

Agatha is still not in a good mood. She wasn’t in a good mood on the way to the restaurant (although she smiled when I told her how pretty she looked), and she’s not in a good mood now, sitting at our table and waiting to order. (Sidenote: I don’t like Baz and Niall together. Niall makes Baz laugh, and when Baz took his hand, Niall blushed and smiled. They probably plot my demise with each other). There’s a certain tension in the air, which I suppose is to be expected when you’re having dinner with your enemy. 

“So, um, Agatha. How’s your… family?” Niall asks politely. She smiles at him a little and lets my hand go from under the table, starting to talk animatedly with him. Baz and I stay silent as they laugh together, but I catch Baz smiling at Niall ever so slightly as he talks. My heart twists in my chest (I can’t believe Agatha is flirting with Baz’s date- I suppose now that she knows Baz is gay, she needs to find some other bloke to flirt with) (Part of me is relieved). She is so obviously flirting with him that it’s just painful to watch. 

When we finally get to ordering, Agatha is still smiling brightly with Niall, and when the server leaves, they go right back to talking. If she wants to flirt with someone’s date while she’s here with me… I suppose two can play that game. I turn my full attention to Baz and prepare myself for snarky remarks and sneers. “So Baz. What’s your… favorite violin song to play?” He looks at me like he thinks I’m joking, so I give him a look to tell him that I’m serious.

He (hesitantly) says, “‘The Last Rose of Summer I suppose…” He smiles like he’s trying not to. He likes talking about this, but he doesn’t trust me not to make fun of him. He can trust me. 

“Which is…?” I let out a little laugh with him as he goes on.

“It’s a beautiful song that took me years to learn, and…” He continues on, a spark in his eye that shows that he’s passionate about this. It’s odd to admit it, but it’s slightly endearing to hear him talk about something he loves like we’re friends. (If this is what it would be like to be friends… maybe I wouldn’t mind so much).

When he’s done talking, he goes back to closed off, but all I want to do is get him talking again. “Crowley, what’s your favorite song to listen to on the violin?” It’s probably just my imagination, but I think I see a little pink rise to his cheeks. Just enough to make me think I see it, but not enough for me to be sure if it’s real or just my imagination.

“Er, it’s um…” He stumbles over his words more than usual, which is weird. “It’s called Bite. By Troye Sivan.” I can feel myself lean slightly back in shock. I’ve heard that song before (by a gay artist- Baz is more homosexual than I ever thought) and it’s wonderful. I couldn’t help but hum it for weeks after the first time I had heard it. It’s funny to me that that’s his favorite song to hear on the violin. 

“I love that song!” I exclaim, Agatha and Niall’s conversation barely even registering in my brain anymore. 

For a second- just a second, I see Baz’s hard exterior soften as he says, “You do?” I nod my head vigorously. It seems like he’s about to say more, but our food gets to the table, promptly cutting off all conversation and making Baz go on red alert again. For that split second that he seemed open (I can’t help but be proud of the fact that I made him feel that way), he was actually enjoyable, which is odd to admit. For a moment, I didn’t want to cut his bloody head off or light him on fire. And he even seemed like he didn’t hate me. 

The table lapses back into silence for a second as we begin eating, but Agatha quickly goes back to talking with Niall. I should be paying attention to make sure no funny business is going on, but instead I can’t take my eyes off of Baz. (And not because I think he’s plotting, this time).I just let myself admire the way his eyes crinkle sometimes when he smiles at something Niall says. The way he runs his hands through his hair like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, and how he doesn’t eat much on his plate, but when he does, he puts his hand over his mouth, embarrassed. (I wonder if he has an eating disorder) (I actually think his fangs pop out when he eats; his cheeks always look fuller when he’s around food). 

“So Snow, did you get the History of Magicks essay done?” Baz turns his attention to me, and I feel lighter for some reason. Ha, I want to say to Niall. (For reasons I’d rather not think about at the moment). 

“I, um-”

“Because if you didn’t, like the bloody tosser you are, I suppose I could help you and your small brain,” Even though he through in insults, I’m still taken aback by his offer. He would help me with my essay? Voluntarily? Who is this bloke and what has he done with Baz? (I suppose he’s had a few glasses of wine- maybe he’s slightly buzzed) (can vampires get buzzed?)

“I suppose… yeah, that’d be…er- nice, I suppose.” I stumble over my words more than usual (which is very very much) when I’m talking to him. Maybe if he helps me with my essay, we can have more nice moments like this. (I mentally slap myself for wanting more moments like this with my ever-plotting enemy). 

He smiles a small smile at me and goes to take another bite of his spaghetti. When I look over, I see Agatha twirling her fucking hair and laughing with Niall like he’s the worlds funniest guy. Suddenly I remember what I had wanted to do before; make her jealous. I lean forward in my chair a little towards Baz and smile sweetly at him. (It’s a first; a nice first). He just quirks that infernal eyebrow at me as he continues to chew. 

“Tell me a joke, Baz.” I smile extra brightly at him. I try to add extra sweetness into my voice, which is the polar opposite of the venom usually laced in my tone when I talk to him. 

“Okay?” He says it like a question- like he’s waiting for me to explain why I’m being weird. (Maybe because I feel kind of fuzzy right now. Maybe because I feel kind of fuzzy whenever I’m around him). “Today at the bank, an old lady told me to check her balance. So I pushed her over.” He delivers it hesitantly, but still well enough for me to chuckle out loud. I try to laugh extra hard like Agatha but it comes out as kind of forced, so Baz slightly frowns and looks down. 

“That one is actually really funny!” I try to catch his eyes, and when I finally do, I hold his gaze for a few moments. I realize now that out of all the years I’ve lived with him and all of the times that I’ve fought with him, I’ve never really looked him in the eyes. I think I was always scared about what I’d find there. Anger, disgust, disdain- complete and utter repulsion. But looking into his blue-grey eyes, I only see softness. Some hesitance; sadness, maybe. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then Baz’s soul is beautiful and soft and full of love. (Can vampires have souls?) (I think they do. Baz certainly does, at least).

When I look into his eyes, it almost seems like the rest of the restaurant fades away. Just turns into black until Baz and I are the only two people left in the room- maybe even the world. But he looks away (back to Niall) and blushes (only just barely) before I get to indulge myself in ‘getting lost in his eyes’ for much longer. When I look over, I see Agatha playfully putting her hand on Niall’s arm across the table, lingering for a second longer than she should have. (If it isn’t clear, we are probably going to fight after this dinner). 

“Looks like Wellbelove seems to want to swap dates,” Baz looks back at me and smiles a bit, adding just a small sneer to it. (It doesn’t look menacing- it just kind of looks sweet). I want to tell him that that’s okay; switching dates would be perfectly fine with me. (I don’t know why I want to tell him that. Or why I feel that way). 

Instead, I say, “Yes, I suppose…” And trail off. (He hates it when I do that). He looks at me curiously as I look back to see Agatha’s hand on Niall’s arm again. I decide to do something stupid. 

Before he can say anything, I take his wrist that’s laying on the table and lace my fingers through his. He sucks a breath in between his teeth and then lets out a shuddering breath. His hand is cold and calloused in mine, but it’s an oddly soothing feeling. I know that this isn’t affecting Agatha (she’s not even looking), but I can’t bring myself to let go. (That is now on my list of things not to think about).

“What are you doing, Snow?” He curls his lip, but doesn’t let go- even as I start rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand. 

I just shrug. I know he hates it when I shrug, and now he’s pulling his hand away with an eye roll, but I grip harder and stop him. “I don’t know… I don’t know, Basilton.” I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m flirting with my enemy and holding his hand to make my girlfriend jealous when 

She is flirting with someone else

She’s not even looking 

I am not even gay

All I really know is that I don’t want to let go of his hand. I don’t know what that means, or why that is, but I just really want to keep holding on. 

All through the rest of dinner, I don’t let his hand go. He doesn’t make a move to remove it, either. Even as we eat, and as we pay for dinner, his hand stays planted firmly in mine. I know Niall has noticed- but he just looked and smirked. I don’t know if Agatha as noticed or not yet- she’s too busy flirting with Niall and hanging all over him.

When we get up to leave the restaurant, Baz finally starts pulling away, but I just wind my fingers more around his. He cocks his head at me, but gives in, letting me continue to hold his hand. Why is he letting me do this to him? Why do I want to keep doing it? I must be drunk. (I only had one glass of wine) (maybe drunk on Baz). Agatha is huddled close to Niall because she’s cold. (I don’t care). Maybe I’m a bad boyfriend. (I don’t bloody care much about that, either).

…

The walk back to rooms was uncomfortable and awkward at best. Agatha was dropped off at The Cloisters first. Before going inside, she leaned in and gave Niall a long hug, me a quick (and emotionless) peck on the cheek, and Baz a curt nod. (Baz and I didn’t stop holding hands- does that make me a bad person?) (No, it doesn’t. I don’t like Baz. I just like the way his hand feels in mine). 

After Agatha was dropped off, the walk to Mummers is quiet and slightly awkward. Baz and I are still holding hands, and Niall walks a few feet away from us. When we drop him off at his room, he nods to both of us and slips in without a word. (I swear I saw him wink at Baz- maybe I’m just tired). Baz and I hesitate for a moment before starting to walk back to our room. (Crowley, I have to share a room with him after tonight). I’m sweating in my (Baz’s) suit as we near the door. For some reason, I just don’t want Baz to let go, but I know that once we get to our room, he’ll probably pull away and spit on me, grilling me about what the fuck was that, Snow?

But when we enter our room and I start walking to my bed, letting go of Baz’s hand, I feel a sharp tug at my hand. It pulls my entire arm back and forces me to spin around and stumble forward- right into my roommates’ arms. He spins me around (again, I suppose) so that my back is against our door and he’s holding my wrists to the door and by my sides. He’s so close that I can smell the spaghetti he just had for dinner. Looking into his eyes, I feel my heart flip in a way that it never did with Agatha. Is that possible?

“What in the fuck was with the hand holding and flirting, Snow?” I assume he’s trying to sound threatening, but he just sounds breathless. I stutter, looking for an answer. 

I… I- I don’t know.” He gazes down at me, his eyes a soft contrast to the rest of his collected exterior. 

“You never know, Simon Snow,” I gasp quietly when he says my name. He’s so close our noses are touching and I can feel every single place where his cold skin sets me on fire and I want to know the taste of his lips and-

I cut my own thoughts off when I say, “I know one thing.” “And what might that be?” 

Deep breath. “I know that I want to kiss you.” The words that come out of my mouth surprise both me and him. At first he doesn’t say or do anything- just stands there staring at me. 

“Well are you going to do something about it then, Snow?” His breath tickles my cheek.

“You called me Simon before.” He scoffs.

“I did no such-” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. Cold. Soft. Wonderful. His eyes come up to cup my face and I grab fistfuls of his hair, tilting his head down to deepen the kiss. I could do this for hours. I feel free. Like that line from Baz’s favorite violin song: Kiss me on the mouth and set me free. Well Baz is doing exactly that. 

I may not know much; Normal math, elocution, why I don’t feel romantic love when I’m with Agatha and why she feels the need to flirt with others right in front of me. But if there is one thing that I am always sure of; one thing I always know…

It’s that I love Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.

[emma-nation]

Thinking Of You (Mona x MC Fanfiction) - Chapter 9 // July Challenge Day #12 (Revelation)

You said move on Where do I go? I guess second best Is all I will know

Summary: Years later, Allison has everything she wants, a brand-new internship as a doctor, a handsome boyfriend… but her first nightshift won’t go as expected…

Genre: Romance, Angst

Tag list: @zoe6111, @simsvetements, @mvrinettes, @whoinvitedalx, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @abunchofbadchoices, @kamilahmademedoit, @janurary, @talkinlikeateen, @eagle-one-1, @andreear17, @tia-bi, @monagf, @monahott, @fal-carrington, @crazzyplays, @honorablebicycle​, @teja-desai​, @iam-the-fuckin-queen (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Notes:

- English is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes.

- As I couldn’t write an entry for @choicesjulychallenge today, I’ll be using this chapter for the theme (Revelation).

- This chapter contains some NSFW content.

“You bribed my daughter, who has been recently operated, to play the bait for a serial killer on the loose. Are you out of your mind?! You are no different from that Kaneko man!”

The discussion and yelling in the living room had been going on for hours. Mona’s mother, Sara, was extremely furious at Detective Wheeler, not letting him speak a single word. For a moment, Mona even felt sorry for him.

“I told you,” Mona said. “You don’t wanna push her buttons. She will keep yelling at him for days.”

“Wow,” Allison commented. “Now I know where you’ve got your temper from.”

“No, actually I’m more like…”

Mona looked down at the message on her cellphone. Her father sent her a picture of her at college, in the basketball game, telling how proud he was. She knew he was only being sarcastic.

“You’re not like him, Mona. From what you’ve told me he’s selfish, arrogant, puts his own well-being above anything.”

“And how I’m different from that?”

“You took a bullet for me, and now you’re in this investigation because you didn’t want me to do this alone.”

“Maybe I was only trying to spend more time with you.”

Allison looked at her in silence for a brief moment, her eyes staring at her mouth in an inviting manner. Since their false kiss in Brian’s room, moments like that were getting more and more frequent.

“Whenever you want, babe.”

“I want it right now,” she prevented Mona from going forward, “but… Griffin.”

Mona rolled her eyes. It was like that douchebag had been purposely ghosting Allison to prevent her from dumping him.

The door opened in a slam, interrupting the moment.

“And you,” Mona’s mother shouted at her. “I thought you had finally learned your lesson, but no. You’ve got yourself in trouble again, for another woman!”

“…” she still tried to argue, but her mother interrupted her.

“No. Don’t even try to justify yourself.”

She entered the room, impatient, examining Allison head to toes, as if she was scanning for a threat. After she finished, she took a deep breath to recompose herself.

“You two, in my hotel room tonight. 8 o’ clock. Don’t be late.”

———-

Allison had only going through the experience of meeting in-laws only once, with Griffin’s parents, in a fancy dinner to celebrate their anniversary. Meeting Mona’s mother was twice as scary, knowing she held an enormous grudge against her.

8 o’ clock they met her in a hotel room. She was sitting behind a laptop, ready to give them instructions. For decades, she had been working with technology and programming. One of her latest jobs was for the security company, who works for the University they were attending. According to Mona, until now absolutely no one, could pass her security protocols, even to hack grades or the surveillance cameras.

“I’m not being able to retrieve the data without direct access to the University’s network,” she explained. “I’ll need you to go to the library, plug this flash drive in one of the computers and install the programming.”

“Piece of cake for your smartass daughter,” Mona bragged. “Let’s go, Allison.”

“It’s not only that. You’ll have to wait until I’m able to decrypt the footage. When I call you, you clean the computer and come back here.”

“Understood.”

“Do you promise to be careful?” Sara got up from her chair, tucking a strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear. “If you see anybody or anything suspicious, stop immediately and run.”

“Mom,” Mona assured her. “Nothing is happening to me this time. I promise.”

Allison smiled softly, noticing how respectful and sweet Mona was for her mom. She wouldn’t let anybody else command her or yell at her like that, but with that woman she was an entirely different person.

“Meanwhile we can attend the party,” Allison suggested. “My dad said it could be a good opportunity to find more suspects.”

Mona’s mother expression changed and she looked at her in an intimidating manner again.

“Look Allison,” she sighed. “I have absolutely nothing against you, as we just met. But like your father, I’d rather you to keep a distance from my daughter. In case you have forgotten, she almost died because of you.”

“M-Mom…” Mona tried to argue, but Allison interrupted her. “I’ve already told you…”

“I could never forget what she did for me. And while we both agree it was a little stupid, it also shows how brave and selfless she is.”

“Brave?!” The woman let out a small laugh. “I’ll tell you something, everytime my daughter gets brave because of a girl, it never ends well.”

“I’m completely different from her ex, that I can assure you.”

“How exactly? Where were you for all these years she spent in jail? Did you know she was always mourning your absence?”

“I told her to not go visit me, or even write me,” Mona protested. “I wanted her to follow with her life and she did. No hard feelings.”

Allison inhaled deeply. She felt extremely guilty for never visiting Mona, despite her request. Letters, she had written a thousand, that she never sent, wondering how she’d react. She never wanted to cause Mona more pain, but it didn’t mean she stopped loving her or that she had abandoned her completely. With teary eyes and a confident voice, she finally confessed a secret no one ever knew.

“Wrong. You’re wrong… If Mona is here tonight it’s because of me. Because I could never forget or abandon her. I promised I’d get her out of jail and I did, I paid for her lawyer.”

There was a complete and awkward silence in the room. Mona was paralyzed, she opened her mouth several times but no words would come out.

“Y-You did… what? H-How?”

“Dr. Williams was giving this lecture in Langston, and as I learned she was one of the best lawyers in the country I went after her. She had never lost a single cause. The price I had to pay was extremely high, of course, but nothing that selling my car couldn’t do.”

No more words were pronounced. Mona seemed a little bit surprised and disturbed. The drive to the university was completely quiet. It was only when they arrived at the library that Allison finally asked.

“M-Mona, you’re not mad at me, right? For paying for your lawyer? I asked Dr. Williams secrecy because I didn’t know how you’d react but… I’ve never felt so happy in my life like when she told me they had reduced your penalty in a great deal.”

Mona stopped what she was doing at the computer to look at her.

“That was the hell of a good car. It was really stupid of you to sell it, because of me,” she told. “But how am I supposed to be mad? If it wasn’t for you, I would…” her mouth opened in a huge grin. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

At the desk, their hands met again.

“You’re worth every penny. I would never give up on you.”

“When I’m allowed to, I’m gonna kiss you so much you’ll wish to lock me up again.”

“I could never!” Allison punched her shoulder slightly.

“You’ll see,” a notification indicated the computer job was done. “So, party?”

———–

They were leaving the library holding hands. Mona was so happy nothing could ruin her mood, not even Krista, who was sitting at a near desk focused.

“Look at her, isn’t her perfect?” Mona commented. “Way too perfect?”

“What?” Allison furrowed her brows. “Do you think she could be a suspect?”

“It won’t hurt to take a look.”

Hidden behind a shelf of books, they waited until Krista left for a moment. Mona rushed to her desk, taking a hurried look at her papers. As expected, all she could find was Krista’s homework and a schedule with her Bible studies.

“You were right after all,” she told Allison. “Our girl is clean.”

Yet, something caught her eye as they were leaving. A keychain hanging out of her purse. Her brand-new car had been acquired at her father’s dealership.

The party was crowded and loud. A hurricane of teenagers getting drunk and wild in many manners. Spotting them as they arrived, Brian waved and smiled, coming in their direction.

“Hello Brian,” Allison greeted.

“Have you seen anything weird these days?” Mona asked.

“Except for two dudes from the team joining Kista studies?” He told. “Not at all. It seems whoever is selling the stuff is laying low for a while.”

“I see. Remember our deal.”

“Always.”

He returned to his drinking game with a group of friends.

Mona’s high expectations for that night were quickly frustrated, when Dr. Allison Wheeler told she couldn’t, under any circumstances, to play beer pong or do a keg stand yet, because of her recent surgery.

“That’s okay, I guess I can keep living without a full-experience of college. How else are we supposed to have fun then?”

“Let’s dance,” Allison took her by the hand to the dance floor. “Still get the moves?”

“You can bet on it, gorgeous.”

Mona started dancing around her in a seductive, inviting manner. Allison responded by doing a sexy set of moves herself, pressing her back on Mona’s body and leaving their faces only one breath away.

The song changed to an old pop song. Allison’s expression suddenly changed. She became sad and distant.

“What’s wrong?” Mona asked, placing her hands on her waist and bringing her closer. “Missing Irwin?”

“It’s nothing,” Allison wrapped her arms around her neck. “It’s just…” she looked down, blushing a little bit, “this song used to make me sad. It reminded me of you.”

Mona closed her eyes, paying attention to the song’s lyrics. She had listened to it probably a thousand times before, but it never meant anything so far. As their bodies slowly moved together, she inhaled Allison’s sweet and hypnotizing fragrance. It was becoming harder and harder to resist the urge to kiss her.

“Well, you’re getting your ’another life’. It’s up to you to take it or leave it.”

“I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

Mona brushed her lips on Allison’s, requesting her permission to go further. But before she could move forward, her cell phone started ringing.

“My mom,” she announced. “She has gotten the footage. We have to go.”

———-

Allison sat tense on an armchair, waiting for Mona’s mother to play the footage on a screen. She glanced at Mona, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, so expectant as she was.

“The Leon guy is innocent,” her mother told, pressing the ’play’ button. “Here we have our suspect. The one who cleaned the basketball player’s room.”

“Krista?!” Mona shouted, looking at the screen. “I knew it! I told you, Allison. Too perfect to be true.”

“But… she’s only the tip of the iceberg,” Allison said. “Somebody big and powerful is commanding her.”

Mona fell pensive, before letting out of laugh.

“Of course. David is behind her! He’s her godfather. It explains his move to Los Angeles and his sudden obsession with me. He expected me to be his dealer.”

“Wait,” Sara interrupted. “You think your father is developing synthetic drugs? Honey, at this point I thought you knew him better. David is a dumb coward.”

“But her car came from his dealership!”

“I hate to do this but…"

Minutes later, Mona’s father, David, also joined them in that small hotel room. Allison had never been in such an awkward situation before. There was clearly a tension in the air between the three of them. Recently, Allison learned that Mona’s parents were quite young when she was born. When she was only two, her father abandoned them for his current wife.

"A family gathering. How lovely,” Mona mocked. “Allison, call your father. Something tells me his handcuffs will be needed here.”

She gave her father a threatening look.

“What? You think I’m behind this girl?!” He protested. “I’ve never seen her in my life before.”

“She has the same car as you. It came from your dealership and gifted to her by a godfather.”

“Wait, now you mentioned it, I think I remember…”

He searched his phone for the most recent sales of that specific model of car.

“A little over two months ago, this man came to my dealership. He bought not one, but three, of this same car model. He paid for them immediately, in cash. I thought it was shady, illegal maybe, but…”

“You needed to make money,” Sara finished.

“Exactly,” David cleared his throat and passed her his phone, while she did a background search on her laptop.

“Got it. Indeed, he’s Krista’s godfather. There are plenty of pictures of them together on the internet.”

She transmitted the laptop image to the larger screen. Allison’s eyes went wide, as she couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing.

“Dr. Carlson?!” She covered her mouth in shock.

“Correct, Emmett Carlson. Powerful and influent doctor. A perfect mind to be behind the drug’s creation. Do you know him?”

Now everything made sense. Of course she had seen Krista before, in one of the big parties the Carlsons threw.

“I heard him on the phone with a guy in the hospital’s parking lot the other day,” Mona told. “I thought the conversation was creepy but I had no idea.”

“Now I’ve been declared innocent, can I leave?”

Mona rolled her eyes at David. Then, she approached Allison by the window. Placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay? I mean, it must be hard for you to know…”

Allison hugged her and started sobbing.

“The main component of the drug is obtained from a plant, found only in Africa. You know what that means right?”

Allison nodded, without being able to answer. Griffin was involved in the scheme, of course. It explained his trip and his recent behavior.

“I’ll be alright,” she took a deep breath. “I just need to get out of here and clean my head for a while.”

———

“Allison,” Mona told. “I know how you must be feeling but… this isn’t a good idea at all.”

“I don’t care,” she accelerated Mona’s car at the empty and dark road, as much as she could. “I do it all the time when I need to relax.”

Mona started questioning what was making her more nervous, if it was the fear of getting caught by the police or the fear Allison could damage her car.

In a sudden and dangerous move, they were out of the road and Allison started drifting around the sand. At least now Mona was sure of the improvements her father had done in her car.

They stopped. Allison was panting in stress and adrenaline. She looked determined to start drifting again.

“Stop,” Mona placed her hand on the wheel. “You’re gonna get us both killed and we need to hand your father this flash drive with the evidence we got. We’re doing this, right?”

“How can you even ask this?” Allison shouted. “What do you think I am? That I’m involved too?”

“Of course not, but… this will be the end of your engagement with Griffin.”

In a blink of an eye, Allison moved unexpectedly and straddled Mona on the passenger seat.

“My engagement with Griffin ended when you walked through that hospital’s door,” she wrapped her arms around Mona’s neck and stared deeply into her eyes, making her heart race inside her chest. “Don’t you understand? I never belonged to him. My body could be his, but my heart and soul were always yours!”

Her eyes locked with Mona’s burning in pure desire.

“I was only with him because I couldn’t be with you.”

Mona grabbed her left hand, looking at the big diamond on her finger.

“Can I do the honors?” Mona asked.

“As you wish,” Allison shrugged.

Mona slipped the ring out of her finger, throwing it by the window in the middle of the desert.

“Good riddance.”

Her mouth met Allison’s in a hungry and desperate kiss, while her hands explored the rest of her body, wanting to feel every inch of her. Allison’s mouth lowered to her neck, placing small kisses and biting softly.

“You still remember how I like it.”

“How could I forget?”

Allison took off her shirt, letting Mona kiss the way down to her chest. Her hands traveled from her lower back to the waistband of her skirt and then to her inner tights.

“Should I take it slow or…?” Mona grinned.

“No,” Allison kissed her again, nibbling on her lower lip. “Give me all you’ve got.”

“Remember, you asked for it.”

Wasting no more time, Mona’s hands found their way to where Allison wanted her the most. As she massaged the most sensitive area of her body, she moved her hips to meet the rhythm. Her mouth wouldn’t leave Mona’s not even for a second.

“You have…” Allison moaned between pants, as she arched her back in pleasure, “no idea… how much I wanted this.”

“Really?” Mona teased, whispering in her ear. “So that means you’d still think of me, once in a while, when you…”

“Everytime. Even when I was with Griffin. Sometimes I’d close my eyes and pretend it was you I was having sex with.”

“Okay, you’re driving me really crazy here, but we’re kinda cramped. Let’s move to the backseat.”

As they moved, Allison quickly advanced, pinning Mona on the backseat, where she started taking off her clothes. She started placing kisses everywhere she undressed. When there was only Mona’s underwear left, she stopped.

“What are you waiting for?” She complained. “I wanted it as much as you did.”

“Sorry, I hadn’t seen it in a while. I appreciating the view, you know?”

Allison laughed, lowering her head between Mona’s legs. She moved her tongue teasingly, reducing the pace to prolong the sensation.

“Am I doing this right?” She continued to provoke.

“Allison… just do it…”

“What’s the word?”

“Please!”

She lowered her head again, moving more intensely now, until Mona collapsed in ecstasy.

“Are you exhausted yet?” Allison wanted to know.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve waited eight years for this day. No way I’m stopping this soon!”

———-

When Allison woke up in the morning, she was still undressed, lying in Mona’s arms, in the middle of nowhere. Her phone had dozens of missed calls from her dad.

“Oh shit,” she looked at herself in the rear view mirror, checking the small purple bruises on her neck. “He’s going to kill me.”

She woke Mona up with a kiss and told her they needed to go.

“Come on,” she pulled Allison back to her arms. “Only a little bit longer. It’s just that… it feels unreal, like the last time.”

“It’s different now, there’s no Brotherhood standing in our way. We’ll have plenty of time to do this.”

“Straight to the precinct?” Mona asked, after getting dressed and taking control of her car.

“Actually, let’s go home first,” Allison suggested. “We’ll have a long day ahead and I’d like to shower first, grab something to eat.”

“Sure.”

A while later they were back to Allison’s place. A familiar car was parked in front of the house.

“Is that your dad’s?”

“I don’t think so.”

Allison swallowed hard. The front door was unlocked and as she opened it, two figures were standing in the living room.

“Dr. Carlson, Griffin. What are you both doing here?”