#i almost spent this last year of christmas by myself. but i was invited by a coworker bc he knew i would be alone

[spicycoffeebean]

If you don't want to answer that's COMPLETELY fine and you can ignore this entirely, but if your comfort zone permits: I happened across your tag and am. curious how someone could use reddit to try and get someone to detransition. Like, do you mean she made a post about it to get people agreeing with her or??

Hi Anon! I'll be honest and say I'm glad somebody took notice enough to actually ask. Because I still refuse to believe it happened.

No! She did not make a Reddit post. She just sent me several posts from r/detrans to get me to detransition.

More below the cut! Idk how long this will be, but cw for transphobia and all around shitty/questionable behavior

For those who don't know (I can't track down the post, but I commented in tags) my own mother (60) has been very actively against my transition (ftm) since I began taking testosterone in November 2021(I have been openly trans and using he/him prns since 2018, so it's not like any of this was "new" information to her) On top of blatant misinformation, my mom tried to source REDDIT, the detransitioner's subreddit to prove that yes, people do detransition. Never once denied her that. My issue here is that no, she did not make a post, she was ~browsing~ the detransitioner subreddit r/detrans to push me to detransition. She was "sourcing" it (I wanna say she said in the same conversation that she doesn't trust sites that have LGBTQ+ flags despite the statistics being very real and very present. I'm an analytics/statistics student.)

I have a million issues with this, but very simply, she is using people's struggles and real trauma to fuel a transphobic agenda to get me to detransition (I was so much happier when I chose to be openly trans let alone when I actually started T last year.) If you actually read the subreddit, 99% of those stories are OP saying "Transitioning did not work for me" but not once do they denounce transitioning. They make it clear that their experiences with it did not work out.

“I talk to detransitioners all of the time” she said “Why don’t you talk to a real trans person?” I asked her “Because I know their story.” is what she said word for word Bitch I’m trans and I don’t know trans people’s stories. I just am trans?? I made it super easy for her. Talk to a doctor or a real trans person. She makes any excuse to NOT DO THIS. A cisgender doctor in California will tell you that you are out right wrong and doing more harm than any good you might see from it.

Less than 1% of people detransition, and the majority of those who detransition ARE STILL UNHAPPY. Even then a handful of people detransition because of society, family, or something simple as healthcare. People are denied healthcare because doctors don't want to provide basic care to a transgender person. (I live in the US where this practice would be illegal) My mother acts like I myself deny that people detransition while she literally won't acknowledge WHY people detransition at all. LGBT clinics are apparently shutting down in the UK, Norway, Sweden etc. Yeah cool cisgender people are losing healthcare too. But apparently that doesn't matter. My brother's(cis) bisexual and he could be denied care if he lived in such a place. I don't think she'd take kindly to that, knowing she was the most supportive when my brother came out well over 10 years ago.

I do not want my story or trauma to be used as fuel for a fire to hurt somebody else. I doubt any of these detransitioners would be happy knowing this either. Their stories are not for my mother to tell

anyway she sends me to college(to study analytics/statistics lol??) and insists I'm brainwashed and need an autism diagnosis(YES, SHE ASKED ME 3 TIMES TO GET ONE. NO I JUST HAVE ADHD. I ASKED DOCTORS FOR 5 YEARS ABT IT LOL)

She's just in denial she spent 1 million usd and 2 years of paperwork on a China doll because "[She] didn't want to try for another son" I was told this my entire childhood and it's haunting me almost every day now.

That's the super dumbed-down version of that Reddit comment. Let alone EVERYTHING ELSE she put me through the last 14 months.

TLDR; She did not make a post to get people to agree with her, she was just taking people's stories and struggles to fuel a hate agenda detransitioners themselves do not agree with (she cannot read.)

[scorpion-flower]

Also, while we're on the topic of my parents being human turds:

Last year, I worked at a school (hey, preschool teacher here!) and when that year was over (you have no idea how difficult it was, lol) I didn't want all those group projects that I had made with the kids to be thrown out, so I took them with me inside a huge plastic bag.

Now, there is no way of really showing this to you, but my room is a mess. And it is this way because I have too many stuff (such as clothes, books, funko pops) while the room is not that big. And to be honest, I don't want to throw anything away. So, as you can guess, that plastic bag didn't help.

So, my boyfriend suggested, that he could take that bag and keep it at his home, since they have extra room, and I said 'sure'. He didn't do it tho.

And here's where my stupid parents come into the story!

They already don't like him (lol, it's not because of anything that he has done, I believe that they would like him only if he was filthy rich and beat me up like they used to) so they use his suggestion and his failure to deliver, as a way to both diminish him and me, because I continue this relationship.

Mind you, these are the same people who have promised me a lot of stuff and always failed to deliver.

I still remember being 3 or 4, watching commercials about Disneyland in Paris on TV and them promising me that they would take me there when I'd finish elementary school. Guess what, I am 29, 17 years out of elementary school and still, I've never been there!

And I remember, being like 18 or 19, and them telling me that they'd search for a small appartment for me to rent, in order for me to start being more independent, and even said that they'd help me with the bills. Did that happen? Of course not! Back then, I also had a therapist who, when I told her what my parents said about renting me an appartment, replied with a "They won't do it, it's all a lie" And she was right!

They even repeated that promise when I was 26, I flat out told them that I don't believe them, and I was right!

It's not like I expect them to do big things for me. They cannot even have basic human decency. It's the lack of self awareness and the gashlighting that gets me everytime tho!

[pucked-bunnie]

not so bad ⎜j.drysdale

pairings: jamie drysdale x plus sized! reader genre: fluff warnings: mentions of injury ⎜ slight mention of body discrimination synopsis: after jamie was traded you finally made it to one of your best friends games - you didn't expect things to go so horribly. word count: 5k authors note: there are obviously a few discrepancies from the actual game when jamie got injured but this is what must happen for cute stories. (UNEDITED)

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“And please for the love of god, Trevor, don’t forget to lock the door when you leave.” You grumble as you slide out of the passenger side, scurrying around to the trunk to retrieve your suitcase - Trevor already pulling the hard cased bag from the car, placing it on the side walk for you. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think I can manage to look after your cat for a week.” He huffs, waving your off as you raise your brow at him. You had spent the last thirty minutes in the car making sure he knew how to care for your six month old kitten - despite the cat already being quite self sufficient and having an automatic feeder you wanted to make sure someone was checking on him at least once a day, hence your stressed instructions to Trevor on the drive to the airport. 

“Okay, I’m trusting you.” You say, pulling your keys out of your pocket and handing them over to the eager hockey player. 

“Me and bean are going to have so much fun.” He coos, shoving the keys into his pocket before reaching over and giving you a tight squeeze. “Make sure to tell him I’ll be watching his game.” He adds and you nod, squeezing him back before stepping onto the pathway pulling your suitcase with you as you watch Trevor pull away from the curb. 

You tug your phone from your pocket checking your flight information one last time before heading inside to check in. After Jamie had been traded almost a month ago you had been with little to no contact while he settled in to his new environment, both you and Trevor feeling the effects of your quiet best-friends absence. 

It was when you finally managed to catch Jamie between his schedules he invited you to Philadelphia to visit him, requesting your help in setting up his new apartment in the city - he luckily had managed to snag a fully furnished apartment - in his words it just needed a ‘piece of home’, so the two of you had quickly managed to book in a week for you to fly to Philadelphia. 

With Trevors reckless driving you had managed to make it to your flight with an hour to spare, taking your time at the cafe near your boarding gate to scroll mindlessly on your phone until you heard the first calls for your flight to board. With an estimated flight time of five and a half hours you were very glad for the kindle Jamie had gifted you at the last Christmas dinner. 

“I know we said we weren’t doing presents this year but I wanted to get you something I thought you’d find useful.” Jamie had whispered as he leaned over to your side as the conversation continued in the room. He placed the small wrapped gift in your lap with a nervous smile his eyebrows raised in anticipation as he waits for you to unwrap the gift. 

“I wrapped it myself.” He adds quickly, pointing out the red wrapping paper covered in Mario characters holding presents. You send him a quick smile before ripping the paper open gently - tucking the remnants into your bag to add to your keepsake box in the back of your closet - you pull out the amazon branded box looking down at the kindle now in your lap with a growing smile. 

“I know how much you love to read and my mum recommended this one.” Jamies explains before pointing to the torn box, “I already took the liberty to download some that my mum said you’d like and I put a gift card in the box so you can buy some more when you feel like it.” 

You can feel your heart beating against your chest as you look up at the sweet boy besides you, his hands fiddling in his lap as he waits for you to say something. “It’s perfect, Jamie.” You mumble, smiling at him with a short nod as you close the distance between you placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” You add shifting back in your seat as Jamie does the same a bright red tinge on his cheeks. 

That was almost a year ago and you had filled the kindle with over a hundred books since then, somehow managing to convince Jamie to get one for himself after he had listen to your high praise for the device. 

Sliding into your seat on the plane and placing your kindle on your lap you sent a quick message to your trios group chat. 

‘Princess Peach 🍑 : on the plane about to take off - should be there around six tonight.’ 

‘Mario 🥸: I’ll be waiting’

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: me and beans are excited for you to be gone.’ Trevor sends with a photo of your kitten glaring up at the man, quickly followed by another message. 

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: hey who changed my name.’ 

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: I’m supposed to be Luigi.’

‘ Mario 🥸 : lol.’  You chuckle at the messages before switching your phone to airplane mode and tucking it into your pocket, sliding your headphones over your ears as the flight attendants finish their spiel on safety and move to their own seats. 

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Six hours in a small seat trying to avoid making any contact with the person sitting besides you really has a way of stiffening every muscle in your body. You roll your shoulders as you wait for the others in your row to gather their belongings, deciding it best to wait for most of the flight to empty out before attempting to make your own way. 

As soon as you had turned off airplane mode on your phone, it had started dinging with messages. 

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: I’m changing my name back.’

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲 has set the nickname to Luigi 👴🏻’

‘Luigi 👴🏻: that’s so much better.’ 

‘Mario 🥸 has set the nickname to donkey kong 🦍’ 

‘ donkey kong 🦍 : knock it off.’ 

‘ donkey kong 🦍 : @princess peach🍑 please tell him to stop bullying me’

‘Mario 🥸: she would never’ 

‘Princess Peach 🍑: I would never’  you respond quickly before deeming it time to grab your bag from the overhead storage and follow your fellow passengers off the plain, making sure to bid a quick ‘thank you’ to the flight attendants standing by the exit. Your phone dings again in your hand as you making it into the boarding area. 

‘bestfriend ❤️: I’m waiting outside your flights baggage collection - do you still have the white suitcase?’ Jamies message albeit simple gives you butterflies, the idea that after so long apart you were finally going to see him made you giddy. 

‘trevor’s bestie ❤️: yep, the one with the blue tag on the side.’  You send your reply frowning at the sudden change in nick name, Trevor must’ve have figured out your passcode again. You roll your eyes but tuck your phone back into side pocket of your leggings, pulling on the hoodie from your carry on, knowing Philadelphia this time of year was a lot colder than Anaheim. 

Jamie is easy to spot in front of the baggage carousel, his eyes focused on the passing bags as he waits for yours to slide past him. You watch him with a soft smile as he steps forwards to help a lady pull her oversized suitcase off the line before helping another lady besides her, nodding quickly as they thank him, stepping forwards once more to pull your bag off the line, placing it delicately at his side as he glances around the waiting area, pulling his phone quickly from his pocket his thumbs typing. 

‘bestfriend ❤️: I have taken your bag hostage - if you wish for it to be returned you must be in front of me in the next 60 seconds.’  Your phone dings with the arrival of the message, your feet moving quickly as you sneak up behind him, tapping his shoulder lightly once your reach him. 

“Miss me?” You question cheerfully, Jamie’s eyes widening as he turns around. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually get here this fast.” He says, placing a hand on his chest as he lets out a shaky breath, “Scared the crap out of me.” 

“Sorry.” You apologise waiting for him to move before deciding it’s best if you initiate contact. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you pull him in for a tight hug, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist as he hoists you up, his arms pulling you in even closer as your feet dangle off the floor.

“I personally didn’t miss you at all.” You chuckle into his neck as he sways a little his own face buried into your shoulder, you can feel the grin on his lips as he gently places you down on the ground, not quite letting go of you yet. 

“I missed you so much.” He mumbled, nuzzling into your shoulder a little more before finally pulling away, his hand grabbing for your suitcase as his other hand reaches out for yours. 

“Trevor wanted me to tell you he’d be watching the game tomorrow.” You say as you take hold of Jamie’s hand, letting him lead the way out of the airport. 

“He better be.” Jamie says, “he has nothing better to do these days.” 

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The drive to Jamie’s new place from the airport takes longer than normal, as he stops around to pick up a few bits a pieces to help make your stay with him more comfortable - snacks being his highest priority. 

“I know it’s not the fanciest but its cozy and it has two bedrooms so it was perfect for friends to come visit.” Jamie warns as he parks his car in the garage under his building. You’re quick to roll your eyes at his statement, if the outside of the building was anything to go by the apartment was going to be more than ‘cozy’. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” You respond, undoing your seatbelt and slipping out of the car, dragging your backpack with you trying to make your way to grab your suitcase before Jamie could beat your to it. 

You’ll give him one thing, for how built he was, he could move faster then most people. Jamie grins as he pulls your suitcase from the trunk of his car, holding it in one hand the other grabbing for the grocery bags. “Too slow.” He teases as he shuts the trunk, guiding you to the elevator. 

You just watch as he gets in the moving metal box scanning his access key and pressing the tenth floor your reasonably heavy suitcase comfortable in his hand. “You know the suitcase has wheels, right?” You question. 

“Yep.” Jamie says quickly, nodding his head as he adds, “But how would I show off how strong I am, if I just wheeled it around.” His statement pulls a shocked laugh from you as the elevator stops announcing it’s arrival on the tenth floor. Jamie once again moves quickly walking to his door and pressing a few numbers into the keypad. 

“Not fancy, my ass.” You grumble as he pushes his door open, moving inside placing your suitcase by the door, and the groceries on the dining room table. 

“Welcome.” He exclaims arms out wide as he lets you take in his space. It was definitely fully furnished, the house looking like it came from a home decor magazine, but it didn’t have the comfort a home should have. Jamie had already started adding a few decorations of his own, his and Trevors ducks jerseys hanging side by side in large frames besides the living room T.V, a few photo frames with his friends and family lining the shelves besides the window. 

“This place is great, Jamie.” You exclaim, as you reach for your suitcase, lying it on the floor as you dig around for your present. “But you were right when you said it was missing something.” You continue finally grabbing hold of the rolled up fabric in your bag. 

You smile as you hand it to him watching the fabric unroll, the man looking down at the blanket in confusion. “Your mum sent me some of your old jerseys that weren’t going to any use, and Trevor asked the equipment manager if I could have some ducks ones as a parting gift.” You begun to explain, motioning to the logos from the jerseys of every team he had played on. “Most of it is made up of jerseys from your time with the ducks, and I had to buy a Philadelphia one to finish it off.” You finish motions to the orange square at the bottom of the blanket. 

“You made me a blanket?” Jamie asks quietly. 

You nod. 

“Out of all my old jerseys?” He asks again. 

You nod.

“Do you like it?” You asks slowly, watching his face for any sign of distain. Jamie glances towards you for a moment before taking off down the hallway, his feet sliding against the wooden floorboards as he enters the room at the end of the hall. 

“It’s perfect.” He yells, your feet moving to follow him. You glance around the corner into the bedroom, Jamie smoothing the blanket over his bed with one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen. “It’s perfect.” He says again. 

“Well, I’m glad you like it.” You respond, your hands clasped behind your back, “Now show me my room.” 

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“Are you sure your okay to make your own way there?” Jamie asks as he straightens out his dark grey suit, his hair freshly washed and pushed away from his forehead. Your night with Jamie had consisted of Chinese takeaway and a lot of gossip about Trevors new girlfriend - the two of you eventually falling asleep on the couch while watching ‘love is blind’ on Netflix. 

You had woken up in the guest room, unsure how Jamie had managed to move you with such ease. 

“I’ll be fine, it’s like a ten minute Uber.” You reassure, reaching out the smooth out the collar on his shirt. Jamie was heading to the rink early as most players did on game day, wanting the chance to start warming up and checking their equipment. 

“Oh before I forget.” Jamie says quickly, reaching into his practice bag pulling out a large ID hanging on a lanyard. “I grabbed you one of these so you have access to the family room if it’s too overwhelming down near the ice, it also gets you free food at the concession stands.” He says quickly handing you the lanyard. 

‘Jamie Drysdale - Friends and Family - All Access’ Printed in large letters on the front, the lanyard covered in big block letters spelling out ‘VIP’ 

“You didn’t have to Jamie, you already got me those rink side tickets.” You complain looking down at the pass again. 

“Well I didn’t have to pay for this - and it’s just in case of emergencies, I don’t want you to get stuck with security if you need something.” He explains and you nod slowly, tucking the pass close to your chest as you glance up at him. “I’ll see you after the game, okay? Meet me near the locker room.” He says softly, reaching forwards to tuck a lose piece of hair behind your ear. 

The silence is thick between the two of you - Jamie hand resting on the side of your neck as he opens his mouth to say something, closing it quickly after. He doesn’t say anything as he shoots you another grin, picking up his phone and keys by the door, quietly exiting his apartment. 

You let out a long sigh, the feeling of his hand still tingling on your skin. 

Now was probably a good time to get ready. 

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You checked your outfit one more time in the mirror - the flared leggings doing wonders to make your legs look longer and slimmer, you favourite hoodie layered under one of Jamie’s new Philadelphia jerseys - usually you wouldn’t wear a jersey to a game often feeling they made you look awkward and desperate when hanging around with your two friends, but for the first game you were watching of Jamie’s in his new team you felt it was necessary to show your support. 

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, your grab the spare set of keys Jamie had left for you, tapping on your phone to order the Uber to take you to the rink. The car arrived quickly, game days often being a easy money making day for Uber drivers, the man greeting you and confirming your destination as you slide into the backseat of his car. 

“You a Philly fan?” The drivers asks as he glances at you in the rearview mirror. 

“Not really - I’m actually from Anaheim but my friend recently moved here and I just wanted to support him.” You explain the driving nodding before asking. 

“Your boyfriend, is he a player?” 

“Oh no, we’re just friends.” You correct the driver raising an eyebrow as he turns his gaze back to the road. 

“Not many friends would fly across the country to watch a hockey game.” The driver continues, a smile breaking out on his face as you stare like a deer caught in headlights. “Must be some friendship you two have.” He adds driving the needle further into your chest as you think about your friendship. 

The crowds begin to grow as you close in on the rink, the driver giving you a kind smile as he stops outside the front entrance. “I hope you have fun at the game.” The driver says as you swing open the back door, “Tell your friend how lucky he is to have you.” He adds as you shut the door, you can see him smiling as the car pulls away from the curb, shaking your head at the friendly mans antics. 

As you make your way into the building scanning your ticket at the front door - grabbing a quick bottle of water from a concession stand before making your way to your seat just in time to see both teams fly onto the ice for warm ups. Taking your seat you smile at the two girls sitting a few seats down, pulling your phone out of you pockets to snap photos of number 9. 

‘Jamie’s not-so-bestie 😈: snapped a few photos of our special little guy.’ You send the message to Trevor rolling your eyes at yet another name change in your phone. 

A hard bang on the glass has you looking up from your phone, Jamie staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Trevor.” You mouth his head nodding, as he flicks his puck into his hand, showing it to you before throwing it over the glass, the puck easily caught in your hands. Jamie watches you as he take a few steps away from your seat, handing it over to the girls sitting a little further away. 

“He wanted me to pass this to you.” You say as you hand it to one of the girls, both letting out high pitched squeals as they glance towards your best friend. 

“Where’s your pass?” He mouths through the glass, motioning his hands around his neck, your hand tapping your bag, pulling out one corner to show him where your stored it. He nods quickly, waving a quick goodbye as he skates away, doing a few laps around the ice before stopping to stretch closer to the bench. 

“I always knew Jamie would be into bigger girls.” One of the teenagers exclaims, both looking you up and down before leaning together and whispering. “She is really pretty though.” The others replies. 

You glance down at yourself with a sigh, settling back into your seat, your arms wrapped around yourself.  The game starts soon after the flyers and penguins taking to the ice in a close game. You watch on the edge of your seat as Jamie moves quickly around the ice - occasionally taking a second to respond to one of Trevors messages. The first period ends with the penguins ahead by one - Jamie exiting the ice with slumped shoulders. 

You knew how tough on himself Jamie could be when the game wasn’t going his way - and being on a new time, you could guess the pressure he was putting on himself was multiplied. Waiting for the second period you glance down at your phone, liking a photo on your instagram before a tap on your shoulder catches your attention. 

“So, do you know him or something?” One of the girls ask as she takes a seat next to you, her friend moving to sit besides her as they both wait for your answer. 

“Or something.” You respond, looking back to your phone as it dings. 

‘bestfriend ❤️: does the game look as bad as it feels?’ You move to respond before one of the girls asks another question. 

“So are you two dating?” She says and you shrug waiting as she adds, “you just don’t seem like the type to be with a hockey player.” Her friend slaps her shoulder as they both giggle, “You can’t say that.” He friend laughs as you just roll your eyes typing quickly on your phone. 

‘trevor’s bestie ❤️: the game is tight. You’re playing great.’ You send the message to Jamie. The two girls remain besides you as the second period starts, the flyers managing a goal to tie the game, the play moving fast as the penguins manage to score a third goal with less than nine minutes left in the period. 

You try to stay positive, hockey being a game where score reversals can happen so fast, the play restarting at centre ice the puck making its way back and forth on the ice before being hit high into the air. Jamie skates his way to the red line, swatting the puck back down to the ice before taking off with it. 

He gets past one penguin making his way into the offensive zone before he gets rammed into - his body hits the ice hard, you can see his mouth open in a pain filled hiss as he rolls to his side, his right hand gripping his left shoulder. 

“Shit.” You curse, jumping up from your seat as you watch him move. Jamie makes his way onto his feet, his left arm hanging limply by his side, the boy skating quickly off the ice into the locker room. You ignore the fans cheering as the two teams go head to head in a scrum, your mind racing as you take two stairs at a time. 

‘Jamie’s real bestie 😈 is calling.’ 

“Is he okay? What the fuck was that.” Trevor yells into the phone, as you speed walk through the building. 

“I don’t know - he didn’t look okay.” You respond stopping one of the workers who’s in a Philadelphia branded shirt. “Excuse me, do you know where the locker room is?” You question, the man looking at you with confusion as you fish around in your bag, your phone still pressed to your ear as you grab hold of the VIP pass. 

“It’s his shoulder, Trev. It looked dislocated.” You say into your phone as the man walks quickly with you behind him, stopping outside a roped off area, whispering quietly to one of the security guards who slowly walks away. “I’m going to see if I can check on him.” Trevor swears a few times before making you promise to text him once you know if Jamie is okay, the two of you ending the phone call quickly as the security guard comes back. 

“We don’t let most people in the locker room.” The security guard says quickly and you nod. “Can I see your pass please.” He adds quickly, handing over the lanyard and pass as he glances over it. His eyes widen a little as he sees the players name on your pass before handing it back to you. 

“What’s your relation to the player?” The security guard asks and you hesitate. 

“His girlfriend.” You splutter out the guard nodding before holding up one of the ropes for you to slip under - he motions for you to follow behind him as he walks to the entrance of the room, holding out a hand for you to stop. 

“We have someone claiming to be Jamie’s girlfriend outside, she wants to come in.” You heard the guard say into the room, a few people mumble back words of confusion and disagreement with letting you inside. 

“Let her in.” Jamie voice cuts through, before he lets out a painful whimper, “Please.” He adds quickly. You don’t wait for permission, rounding the corner to walk into the locker room, a small gasp escaping you as you take in Jamie. His eyes are squeezed shut as the trainers work carefully to remove his pads, his shoulder clearly out of it’s socket. 

Jamie lets out another yelp as they lift his arm to unclip the chest pads, both trainers apologising as they gently place it back by his side. You take a few steps forwards, Jamie’s eyes opening at the sound of your approaching, his bright blue eyes finding yours as he reaches out his right hand. 

“Oh Jamie.” You sigh as you take his hand in yours, your other reaching out to move his hair out of his face. He lets out a long sigh as he turns his head to face your, burying it in your stomach as he lets out a long groan as the trainers rotate his arm slowly, your face scrunching in a grimace as you watch the joint slide back into place, your hand stroking gently across his hair. 

Jamie lets out a sigh of relief as the trainers drop his arm into his lap, the joint now comfortable back in the socket. “Are you okay?” You ask, Jamie just nodding his head against you, his body melting into your side as your hand moves from his hair to rub soft circles on his back. 

“Lucky for you Jamie, I think we’ve saved you a trip to the ER.” The trainer says pulling out a triangle bandage, making quick work of wrapping Jamie’s arm in a sling “Bad news is you’ll still have to go to the hospital for an X-ray to make sure everything is where it is meant to be.” The trainer adds, finishing off Jamie’s sling before turning to you. 

“Are you in a position to drive him over?” The trainer questions and you nod quickly, “We will ring ahead to try and get you two in and out as quickly a possible.” You thank the trainer, before moving Jamie’s head away from your body, crouching down in front of him. 

“Do you wanna get changed before we go?” You ask, Jamie just nodding slowly, his eyes shooting over to the equipment manager already holding a fresh set of clothes. “I’ll wait outside, okay?” You reassure pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before leaving the room. 

‘Jamie’s not-so-bestie 😈: He’s okay, left shoulder was dislocated but one of the trainers managed to get it back in, so we’re heading to the hospital to get a quick X-ray.” You send the message to Trevor, your gaze lifting from your phone as Jamie trudges out of the locker room, his arm tight in his sling, a black hoodie thrown on with a pair of sweatpants. 

“They know you’re coming, just go straight to the imaging wing and give them Jamies name.” The trainer explains, handing Jamies backpack to you with a gentle smile. He pats Jamie on the back before heading back into the room. Jamies free hand reaches out to grip yours, pulling you in the direction of the parking garage. 

“Thank you.” Jamie says quietly as you reach his car, throwing his bag in the backseat before helping him slide into the passenger side. 

“Theres no need to thank me, Jamie.” You reassure, racing around to get into the drivers seat. As soon as you’ve reversed out of the spot, Jamie’s hand finds your again, his fingers laced with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand softly. You glance over at him every now and then, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw tight as the car jostles him. 

“We’ll be home before you know it.” You coos, trying to drive as smoothly as possible. 

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Jamie’s trainer was right, the trip to the hospital couldn’t have been more then an hour, the doctor giving Jamie the all clear to go home with some pain relief and instructions for strict rest, he would be in touch with the Philadelphia team to decide on a treatment plan. 

Jamie is silent as you drive the two of you back to his apartment, his hand never leaving yours as you make your way into his apartment moving him over to the couch in front of the TV. 

“I’m gonna grab you some food and water so you can take your pills.” You say quickly, but Jamie just shakes his head, his hand squeezing yours as he pulls you back to him. 

“Just stay.” He says softly, “Sit with me for a little.” He adds, his head falling to your shoulder as you take the spot besides him on the couch. Both your hands clasp his, fiddling with his fingers as his breathing slows. 

“Thank you.” He says again. 

“You really don’t have to thank me, Jamie. It’s what friends do.” You respond, the boy letting out a scoff. 

“Most friends wouldn’t fly across the country to watch a hockey game.” He sulks, the words from your Uber driver earlier ringing in your ears. 

“I guess I’m not like most friends.” You coo, a smile lighting up on Jamie’s face. 

“I guess not.” He says softly before asking, “So, are we like offical now or something?” The words making your snort as you glance down at him. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You… Me… Us. You said you were my girlfriend.” He explains, his words gentle as he shifts his head against your shoulder, your eyes meeting. “I really want you to be my girlfriend.” He sense the way you hesitate, quickly moving to take back his statement. 

“Isn’t it obvious Jamie?” You ask, “would just a friend really fly six hours just to watch a hockey game?” 

[lilacliquors]

pairing: homelander x reader

word count: 859

notes: on the seventh day of ficmas, lilacliquors gave to me ... a second chance meeting with homelander!

meeting homelander once was purely on accident. you had no idea how it happened, but you were just in the same place at the same time. it was a fancy vought event, and you had been brought along as your friend’s plus one since your now ex boyfriend canceled a trip with you last minute. so, eager to impress, you dressed to the nines and happily joined your friend. and that was when you bumped into him.

you spent hours talking, and it was like he was hanging onto your every word. but the night wasn’t getting any younger, and it was soon time for you to leave. you won’t lie, you wanted so badly for him to invite you back to his place, but instead, he insisted that you take him number. you didn’t even know supes had phone numbers. sure, they were active on social media, but your friend worked in the vought social media department, so it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out no supe ran their one socials. but this felt different, like a secret you needed to keep close to your chest. and you kept it safe and sound.

however, you hardly had the time to even try and ring the number. that meeting was last winter, and it was a full year later. he had tried to catch up with you several times, inviting you to vought functions as an anonymous admirer, but something always seemed to come up. you had a deadline to meet one night, a funeral the next time, and for vought’s halloween party, your car had the audacity to die on you. and your costume looked so good, too! but now, it was christmas time, and the city was bright and full of cheer. and truthfully, you loved this time of year. it filled you with a warmth that you couldn’t quite describe, but this year, you felt like a quiet christmas by yourself was deserved.

instead of racing around like a mad person to prepare a meal for everyone, you gave your friends and family that you wouldn’t be traveling much this holiday season. of course, you went to a nearby christmas party your friends were hosting, but on christmas day, you planned to stay firmly put in your apartment, cozy in your pajamas with a warm mug of cocoa and cheesy holiday movies on the tv. and that was how you spent your whole day. the snow outside was calming, the lights twinkled across the city, and yet, something still felt off.

and that was when you realized that you had forgotten part of the ingredients you needed to finish making your christmas dinner. your eyes widened, and you smacked your forehead with a groan. so much for lounging in pajamas all day. it was time to get dressed and hurry out to the one store you knew would be open on the holiday. and when you entered, it was nearly empty, save for a few other last minute shoppers. you waved hello to the clerk at the counter, and you set off hunting for the things you needed. you grabbed a basket from the front and began to fill it, but when you reached for a can of cranberry sauce, another hand bumped yours, and you were quick to pull back.

“sorry about tha—” you said, but when you looked up, you almost gasped. 

homelander was in the store? just … out shopping? like a normal person?

“oh no, don’t be. here, take it, i insist,” he said, pulling the can from the shelf and setting it into your basket with a smile. you were clearly stunned, and he chuckled quietly.

“what, can’t a guy who saves the world on a regular basis just come out and try to be normal every so often?” he asked, and you laughed quietly.

“sorry, sorry. i just … it’s so strange to see you here. i’m really sorry we haven’t been able to catch up … all year,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm up.

“oh, it’s all right. shit happens, things go ass up, life is unpredictable. but … it’s good to see you,” he said, then looked around. “you here by yourself?”

“oh, yeah. christmas by myself this year. too much craziness, i needed a breather,” you replied, and he nodded, clasping his hands behind his back.

“i envy you, truly. can’t remember the last time i had a break,” he murmured, and it dawn on you that … he was looking for an invitation.

“oh, well, um … you’re more than welcome to … come take a break with me,” you said, and you swore his whole face lit up.

“really? it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“not at all. it’ll just be us two. come on … maybe christmas doesn’t have to be so quiet this year after all.”

you paid for your groceries and held out a hand to him, which he took with a soft smile. and together, you left the store, with a few heads turning in your directions. maybe christmas magic and miracles were a real thing after all.

[mysteria157]

Chapter 17

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~7.7k

CW: brief sexual content, profanity, lots of fluff <3

Summary: You work hard to bring life to something dear to Nanami.

Notes: Thank you to all who have been supportive so far. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 Almost there! Happy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

You gave your mother an olive branch a few days after Christmas. 

A small part of you felt bad for not inviting her over for dinner that night. You planned a nice Christmas meal, and everyone was in attendance. Kento’s mother and father, his grandfather from Denmark, Ome and the rest of your friends, even Choso and Jin. 

But you couldn’t have her there. It was too intimate, too close to home from the last Christmas you spent with her sliding scathing words across her long and elaborate dining table a year ago. You wanted to start small, to give her small chances to test her change in behavior so you could make a decision yourself. 

Kento—who had no wish to entertain her after the little stint almost a year ago in Sendai—was more than happy to see less of her. 

“My love, if you wish to spend more time with her, then that is a decision I will readily support,” he had mumbled against the crown of your hair the night before as you both lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you. “But don’t give her too much. If she hurts you again, I’ll get the restraining order myself.” There wasn’t a trace of softness in his tone, not an ounce of sincerity or joke in the way he spoke.

So, your first olive branch manifested in the cool and barely touched air of Yu’s bakery. The floor was layered with a tarp, four buckets of paint unsealed, both of your hands holding long paint brushes as you rolled beige paint along one of the walls. 

The air was tense, the most you two had spoken was a simple good morning when your mother walked inside earlier that day. But now, an hour later with two walls already done, you could barely breathe through the thickness of awkwardness around you.

Should you say something? Maybe ask her how her week had been. 

No.

You repeated Ome’s mantra in your head over and over, pressing a little harder on your upward stroke, gripping the metal rod a little tighter between your fingers. 

“How was your Christmas?” she asked, her voice unusually soft, lacking its usual arrogance when directed at you. A bitter taste of disdain settled in your mouth, but you swallowed it down, allowing it to simmer in your stomach for the time being.

“It was fine.” Your words were rushed and curt, barreling out of your mouth before you could stop them and had you faltering, staggering your strokes for an uneven coat. “We had dinner. Kento’s family and a few friends came over.”

She was silent, brown hands pushing the rod up, her eyes following the movement as she watched the pain smear with her actions. “Do you own this bakery?” 

“No. It belonged to a friend who passed. It was given to Kento. I wanted to fix it up for him.”

Your mother hummed a soft noise that was rare for her. You were used to huffs of impatience, grunts of disapproval, a tsk, and a shake of her head when you had disappointed her. 

“I’m sure he’s happy you’re doing this for him,” she spoke instead, contradicting your inner thoughts and making you a little angrier.

In truth, Kento had no idea that you were here. Since that night he expressed his readiness to consider reopening the bakery, you meticulously planned your next moves. Between caring for Ulani and having more confidence to handle the influx of commissions, you had the power to determine your schedule and work around what you wanted. 

Kento had no idea that you were listening when he joked about the terrible paint Yu had chosen all those years ago before opening the grand opening. He had no idea you wrote down every single pastry item he envisioned on his menu. He had no idea that while he joked and teased of minor details, you were soaking them all up.

And now you were ready to make it a reality. 

“It’s a surprise,” you admitted, words slipping like gooey slime past your lips as you chastised yourself again for being so open. “So…don’t say anything.”

“I won’t.” You ignored the smile that you could feel grace her features even though your back was turned. It cut through the tense air around her, the corners of her mouth pushing against tension that was suffocating you. “This is a nice thing that you’re doing—”

“I know,” you interrupted, harshly. Your eyebrows furrowed from your actions, a general sensation of upset sliding along your arms as you closed in on what was left of the old paint on the walls.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing!” you hissed at her, the disdain in your belly now a little more pungent as it shot up and out of your throat. “I just—why do you care all of a sudden?!” 

You yanked the rolling brush from the wall, careful not to whack your mother with the wet end even though the thought was a shrieking siren in your mind. She set her own down gracefully, without stumble in a way that made you seethe. 

“I told you why I care. I told you what I’m trying to do. So, excuse me if I apologize for insinuating things about your life. It’s not my place to offer you praise out of the blue and expect you to accept it. So, I’m going to apologize for the times I make you uncomfortable.”

Your mind was reeling from her words. Self-sacrificing and self-aware to a degree that it felt like a smack in the face. Even with her sarcastic quip, it was still filled with a level of sincerity that made you nauseous. 

The mental and emotional whiplash was too powerful, curling and bunching into a migraine that began to ebb between your eyes. Your fingers dug into the black cotton of your overalls, squeezing the fabric between suddenly sweaty fingers as you felt those dormant tendrils of anxiety dance along the skin of your shoulders with mocking movements.

Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe you weren’t as ready as you thought.

“You want me to stop apologizing? Done.” Her hand not on the metal rod lifted in concession. “You want me to only talk when you speak to me? I can do that too. Just let me at least…be here.”

Those tendrils whispered in your ears to kick her out, to make a fool of yourself and let you wallow in self-pity. 

But you did this for a reason. Stuck yourself out there for a reason. Got out of your comfort zone with her for a reason.

And you wouldn’t be able to see any results whatsoever if you had already made it up in your mind that she wasn’t worth the effort.

So, you pulled in a deep breath, the cold air sifting into your nostrils to wash away the irritation inside of you. You picked up your brush and dipped it into the paint bucket once and then twice before bringing it back against the wall.

“How about you start the accent wall behind the register? Once I’m done here, I’ll move onto the other side of the room.” 

You didn’t have much else to say, realizing that until you could control your emotions better, remaining silent was the best option.

You watched her nod, picking up a new rolling brush and a bucket of maroon paint, before offering a gentle smile towards you. You couldn’t help the flutters of warmth that erupted in your chest. It was foreign coming from her, unwanted and trespassing inside of you. You didn’t want to show her that despite your frustration, you were glad she was here to try with you.

So, you didn’t

And with a wavering glance away from her, you turned back to the wall, brushing the roller against it once more.

***

You could only do so much while Kento was at work because of Ulani. So, when you were at the bakery doing renovations, Chiyo and Santo offered to watch her since Ome had to work as well. You kept your work down to only two hours a day, careful not to run his parents ragged with something you still hadn’t told them about. 

No one knew your plans. You couldn’t risk it.

As much as you loved Ome, she would be quick to let something slip in the heat of conversation when she wasn’t paying attention. As much as you could have used Yuji’s strength for some tasks, he was too loose on the tongue and excitable, and it made him an unreliable confidant who was around his sensei far too much. 

You had to pick and choose your people carefully and track your movements without leaving traces behind.

So, you prayed to whoever was listening that the white-haired man in front of you would keep his mouth shut. 

He cradled a Tupperware container in long lanky arms, pressing it against his black Armani long sleeve as he stared down at the contents inside with glee.

“Taste one,” you demanded, admiring the way he ripped off the plastic cover before you could finish speaking. A thumb and pointer finger held a steaming piece of sweet bread, the golden brown flaky texture decorated with drizzles of honey. All sense of decorum left the second he inhaled thick billows of sweet steam, and with only two bites the treat was gone, and he was digging into the container for another. “Gojo, I need you to actually taste the sweet bread, please. You’re huffing it down like a dog.”

He was chewing on a large piece as he tilted his head down, white hair brushing against pale skin as he observed you. His bright blue eyes peeked at you from behind his glasses, cusped over the tops of round dark blue shades as they slid down his nose.

“Did Ome say something about me?”

“No?”

“Did I fuck something up when I watched Ulani a few days ago?”

“No. Gojo—”

“So why are you giving me sweet bread? I love your cooking, but you never cook only for me. So, what’s the catch?”

Your teeth dug into the side of your cheek, biting hard on the wet gummy texture as you watched him start on his third piece. He would be done with the entire container before he walked out of your door and you needed to think fast.

“If I tell you, promise not to say anything.” His eyes were still as he pondered you, blue ocean irises vast and overwhelming that you had to look away. “I’m trying to make sweet bread. For Kento. But I want to make it the way Yu did. And you’re the only person I know that has an affinity for sweets that borders on the need for clinical study.” He shrugged in indifference, somehow—but not surprisingly—flattered by the insult. “I just want to get it right. Would you be willing to taste-test all my batches? Your reward is the entire container each time.”

He scoffed, blemish-free cheeks puffed from the dough behind them, chewing thoughtfully as he considered your ask. Gojo missed Yu and thought about him almost every day. But he was never as close to him as Kento and Geto, never as understanding and pure when they were kids. And as a result, his recovery from grief was much quicker. He bounced back with a quickness that worried you but was no surprise to his friends around him.

“These are a lot of sweets; don’t you care about my health?”

“You are a thirty-one-year-old man with not even a hint of pre-diabetes despite the amount of glucose you ingest. You’ll be fine.”

Gojo was too busy stuffing another piece in his mouth to argue with you.

***

“Your hands are dryer than usual, love,” Kento spoke against the skin of them, kissing your knuckles and the deep cracks along the sides of your fingers. You were blissfully relaxed, pliant, and warm beneath the covers of your bed as you let him caress you. 

It was undeniable that your hands had become unusually dry. You took care of your skin with the amount of throwing you performed for commissions. But lately, you had been crafting more than usual.

Kento thought you were finishing piece after piece for the prolific ceramic artists who shoved their contact info in your hands at Choso’s exhibit a few weeks prior.

In reality, you were actually crafting pieces for the bakery. Specifically, vases of various shapes and designs intended to grace the center of the individual tables that Yu had sanded and stained himself. 

Day after day when Kento was at work and when Ulani was down for her nap, you were hunched over in the studio, wet hands molding against clay as it spun on your pottery wheel. 

You finished your last vase earlier that evening. But you were so exhausted and achy that even though you craved Kento’s touch and the feeling of him inside you, you settled for the soft and practiced movement of his lips and tongue between your legs instead. Letting him coax you in only the way he knew until you were arching into the sheets and moaning your orgasm into the night air of your bedroom.

His thumb smoothed along the sunken skin beneath your eyes, frowning at the sight. 

“You’ve been so tired. Do you need me to cut back on my hours? Extend my lunch too so I’m home more?” 

You snorted, burrowing deeper beneath your duvet and closer to him. He pulled you in without thought, wrapping muscular arms around your waist before yanking into him so that your lips brushed along the skin of his clavicle. You melted further into the warm woodsy scent of him, savoring the lingering hints of eucalyptus that clung to him from his shampoo.

“I’ve just had more commissions lately. I’m okay.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but you still felt bad when he frowned deeper in response, the corners of his lips down turning, narrow eyes intensifying in worry. “Do not take on so much.”

“Yea yea old man,” you sighed against the pillow on your cheek, closing your eyes slowly. 

You could feel his gaze on you even though you couldn’t see him, and you forced your lips together to avoid laughing as the eye not pressed into your pillow cracked open to look at him.

Burnt umber eyes glared at you, jerking a sharp chuckle from deep within your belly that pierced through the thin veil between your lips. 

Watching him fuss had been one of the many things you found yourself craving as your relationship with each other grew. You loved to tease him. Despite Kento’s typically stoic and serious demeanor, there were moments when his seriousness seemed out of place. And the fact that most of the time he was unaware of it, made it all the more humorous to you. 

So, you rolled with it every time and he voiced his fake irritation because it made you smile and laugh.

“Stop laughing,” he grumbled.

Right on cue. 

And like he expected, it made you laugh harder, deep chuckles morphing into giggles when large hands squeezed your waist in reproach, a sensation that only made you wheeze against him. 

The frown on his face twitched, threatening to curl into a smile, responding to the soft giggles that wafted onto his skin as he wiggled nimble fingers against you.

***

It was late February when everything finally came together. 

Twelve batches of sweet bread all either too sweet or missing a secret ingredient that you could never figure out. Gojo could only offer so much. While he didn’t know the exact ingredient that was missing, he could still determine if it ever tasted like Yu’s.

But it was the thirteenth batch that finally stuck.

You were used to drizzling the honey atop the bread when it was fresh out of the oven. But on a whim, you decided to add a tablespoon and halve the serving of vanilla to the yeast mixture instead. 

You were exhausted, swallowing frustration week after week for the sake of doing this for him. Because you wanted to bring this small piece of Yu back to him. Wanted to watch his eyes be a little less dim on his bad days. 

After all, doesn’t every baker need a prized recipe?

You didn’t think much else of it. You were already content with the somber thought that batch number fourteen would be better.

At first, you thought it was a trick of the light against Gojo’s handsome face when he chewed a piece of batch thirteen. His cerulean irises glimmered with a familiarity that made him pause, made him pull back the uneaten half between his fingers to look as if it had spoken a secret to him.

And then, with each movement of his jaw, as he ate the entire batch in front of you, you realized that you just might have gotten it right.

And it was Gojo sliding his hands across your kitchen island to clasp around yours. It was sticky fingers tapping along your brown skin and pearly whites shining brightly at you when you knew for sure that your efforts had finally paid off. 

“Tastes like you got it.”

You were so excited that you could hardly contain yourself, whipping up another batch with your remaining dough, uncaring of the chatterbox of a man sitting at your island as he began to pry questions about Ome from you, inhaling the rest of batch thirteen.

You were too happy. Too proud of yourself and riding on a high when an hour later you were knocking on Kaya’s door and silently offering the batch of sweet bread to her.

You had been at her house a few times since Christmas. Happy to know that the plants were alive and well and that she was coping as best as she could. Even though she had lost the love of her life, she pushed forward for Aiko, who held resilience in the face of despair that must have come from her father.

So, when she sniffed softly as you both sat in her kitchen, small sounds becoming more insistent and congested, you knew for sure that you perfected a recipe that only Yu knew. So, she became the second person you told your plans to, and her hazel eyes filled with tears as she listened, her smile stretched across round cheeks before she yanked you into a tight hug.

“I’ll bring the plants by tomorrow.” You were rubbing her back in soothing circular motions when she muttered the words over your shoulder. You felt faint echoes of her grief vibrating against you, but the resonances weren’t as strong as before. They weren’t as crippling. Not as suffocating as that first day she had broken down in the waiting room almost a year ago. 

You could smell the scent of strawberries from her shampoo flutter beneath your nose as her hair brushed against your cheek. You could feel the shoulder of your shirt becoming damp from what was no doubt her tears against you.

“Kento will be so happy. Yu…Yu would be so happy. Thank you—you have no idea how much this means to me.”

And even though you were exhausted beyond belief. Even though your hands were dry and painful and cracking from throwing and not moisturizing correctly. Even though you had done more renovations than you could stomach for probably a long time. Feeling Kaya squeezing you tighter, seeping happiness through your clothes and into the pores of your skin made your heart swell. 

***

A cold Saturday evening in March is when you set your plans in motion. 

The air brushed against your cheeks, sharp and biting and drying your skin, but you couldn’t use your hands to shield your cheeks. Because those hands were occupied, holding both of Kento’s as you guided his blindfolded form inside the bakery. He was under the impression that you were both on your way to have dinner with friends. So, he was more than surprised when you decided to drive and forced a piece of cloth over his eyes.

You ignored every single protest that he muttered to you, pulling him to stand in the center of the lit room. 

For once, the air hadn’t been cold and reeking of painful traces of its past. Instead, cinnamon colored the air faintly, drifting around you both as you steeled your nerves, squared your shoulders and took a silent breath in front of his oblivious figure. 

“Okay. You can take it off.”

He did so immediately, brows furrowed in light irritation and worry before the expression fell from his face just as fast. 

The beige walls were a good choice, and the maroon accent on the wall behind the register created a warm aura that you were sure would make customers feel more comfortable and willing to stay.

You left the countertops untouched but meticulously restored the shine to the cabinets and replaced the metal accents along the sides of the display case below the register. The floor was redone—an act that you had no choice but to hire help for—and shining beneath your feet. The certificates of achievements and cherished photographs of families, employees, and friends no longer resided in their old frames, having been replaced with brand new ones that added a touch of freshness to the walls they hung on. 

The painstakingly crafted vases, which had taken you weeks to throw, fire, and glaze, had become the focal points of each table, radiating with an assortment of vibrant colors and intricate designs made by your hand. And in each vase laid the plants that Kaya brought back. 

Those same Peperomias and Hoya Carnosas had their bases wrapped in your ceramic art, the long philodendrons that were previously adorning the walls of Yu’s house had been returned to their original home between the crevices between cabinets and displayed in knitted holders suspending from the ceiling. Yu’s prized fiddle leaf had flourished despite his time away, its large, lush green leaves reaching out from its dedicated spot in the corner of the bakery, basking in the gentle March low lights that streamed through the nearby glass windows. 

You were proud. It was an indescribable satisfaction, knowing that every detail had been attended to with an unwavering dedication and care. 

You only hoped Kento would think the same.

Because the man in question was still silent and stone-faced from his perch, Chukka boots rooted to the floor, gelled and parted hair exposing deep brown eyes incredulous and unblinking as he looked around. 

You tried to quell the nerves zapping to life in your body, synapses firing chaotically, causing your fingers to twitch against your thighs, an uneasy silence lingering between the two of you.

“Well…say something,” your words trembled on the ends with an uneasy chuckle, tumultuous waves of anxiety roaring to life inside of you.

“I…” his voice trailed off, his gaze swept across the once missed vibrant plants around him, the upgraded display case, and the freshly painted walls. His heart thumped against his chest, like a bird yearning to be set free, as shock and astonishment surged through his veins, sending a chill down his spine. The weight of your gaze bore down on him, your increasing apprehension palpable as he struggled to find his words. He knew you deserved his undivided attention. 

Surprised or not. 

Overwhelmed or not.

“Is…is that new paint?” He mentally kicked himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his own obliviousness while stating the obvious.

But you smiled bashfully at him instead, eager to do whatever it took to reassure him and help him regain his composure. “It is. I painted it. Well…my mother and I did.” You frowned briefly, your eyebrows twitching with the urge to furrow at the mention of her. She didn’t need to occupy your thoughts at that moment. Not now. 

His eyes shifted down, fixating on the tile beneath his feet. The once familiar, plain linoleum that he had grown accustomed to over the years had not been replaced. The new floor was now made of a creamy-toned linoleum designed to mimic tiles.

“New flooring?” he asked, his voice stronger even though it wavered.

“That one I had to hire help for,” you excitedly told him, maintaining a safe distance, standing a few paces ahead to allow him time to take in his surroundings. “But I picked out the color and style and I even got to rip out a few chunks. I took a bunch of pictures.”

He couldn’t help the huff that puffed from his nose, a small noise of a laugh as his mind continued to struggle to keep up. You watched as he attempted to speak, lips forming words that his throat stubbornly refused to release. 

Sensing his need for guidance, you closed the distance between you, reaching out to slide a hand into one of his larger ones and squeezing gently. He didn’t try to speak again, realized that he couldn’t, but the way his eyes caught yours and held your gaze briefly assured you at that moment that he was here, and he was listening, he just needed you to pilot him in that way only you could do with ease.

So, you did.

You brought a few vases for him to hold and trace his fingers against, animatedly explaining the firing techniques you chose for each one. You pulled him to the kitchen, proudly presenting the recently polished equipment that bore freshly stamped inspection approvals. The pots and pans, put away to avoid dust not even a day after Yu’s death, now hung gleaming and ready to be used from the pot rack above cool concrete countertops. The stainless steel ovens were ready to be turned on, the large refrigerator ready to be filled with chilled dough and meat for savory buns.

With brush of your fingers against him, his skin tingled; overwhelming and strong, forcing currents of electricity along his dermis. His chest tightened with each step you led him away from the kitchen, walking in the direction of Yu’s office.

Faint memories were suddenly rich in his mind when he stepped into the small room. Vivid flashbacks of Yu’s slouched figure, head resting on a hand as he gazed out the only large window in the room. 

That familiar nerve plan, known to dramatically droop the minute it was off its watering schedule, sat once again on the windowsill. However, alongside it stood a new addition—a simple cactus, with curved and drooping spiky branches.

You spoke up as you watched his eyes take in the unfamiliar plant. “Ulani reached for it when I went to the nursery with Ome last week. I figured you would be happy knowing she picked it out for you.”

He didn’t speak, he still couldn’t.

Instead, he allowed his legs to guide him around the oak desk, which had been cleared of its usual clutter of paper and books. For the first time since Yu had bought this bakery, the stained surface was visible to him, and he reached out to run his hand along it, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips. 

But his eyes stopped, freezing at the three small picture frames that sat on the corner of his desk. Picture frames that hadn’t been there before.

The first was of you both. You were in the corner of the photo and holding the camera at an angle to take a selfie, your smile bright as the sun, those familiar glints of mischief coloring your eyes. And he’s behind you, sprawled out on the couch with his legs spread and arms resting along the back of the sofa, head tilted back and mouth slightly parted as he was—despite how much he vehemently denied—snoring. 

It was so mundane, so informal, and not like him to have a photo like this out in the open. But it was so you. And the smile that curved faintly along the edges of his mouth as he took in the photo was more than enough for you to slink closer to him.

The second frame is of you and Ulani. She sat in your lap, her blue onesie covered in drool, light brown curls thick and messy, her gummy mouth smiling and showing the beginnings of a front tooth. Her hands were reaching for her father, who stood behind the camera. Vividly he recalled the playful antics he needed to elicit her infectious laughter for the perfect shot. Kento traced his fingertips along the edges of the frame, his smile pulling a little tighter on his face.

But it was the last photo that made his throat catch because he remembered it like it was yesterday. He and Yu were standing in front of the bakery, and he recalled how excited Yu was when he signed the lease, dragging Kento to stand in front of the empty building with Kaya ready with her camera. 

They were younger, Kento a little less bulky, Yu with a little more hair on his head than what you usually used to see from him. Yu’s arm was draped around Kento’s neck, both hands throwing peace signs, his smile just as bright and lively. 

“Why must I be in the picture if I don’t even own the bakery?”

“You will someday!”

“No.”

“Yes! Now are you going to smile for me? Or are you going to frown like the old man you refuse to admit you are?”

“I am not an old man.”

“You are!”

“Yu—”

“Smile!”

Those words reverberated in his mind, echoing ceaselessly as he gazed at his younger self frozen in the photograph. Because even though his posture was stiff, and his arms were folded over his chest. And even though the blue shirt and brown slacks were a little too big on him and his yellow and black spotted tie and glasses made him look old just like Yu had teased…he was smiling. 

Close-lipped and weak, but he was smiling.

Before he could fully be washed over with the overwhelming surge of emotions that boiled in the core of his stomach, you gently tugged him away, leading him out of the office and through the kitchen. The cinnamon-tinged air enveloped you both again as you entered the front of the bakery. 

Kento blinked away the blurriness in his eyes, and tried hard to focus on soft, billowing curls that peeked out from under your wool beanie.

He knew he needed to say something to you. 

He had to say something to you.

But once again you held him still and commanded him to close his eyes again. And when he complied, the sensation of his eyes closing softly, he sagged against the wooden counter behind him. His heart continued to race uncontrollably, refusing to calm down. Despite the deafening ringing in his ears and the tight, parched feeling in his throat, he found himself still standing. 

When he was told to open his eyes again, he found you holding what looked to be one of the chalkboard slabs that would hang on the wall behind the counter.

“A bakery wouldn’t be complete without a menu,” you declared with a grin, turning the chalkboard slab around for him to see. You soaked up every expression from him as he scanned the list.

Melon Pan, Anpan, Yakisoba Pan, and even Shu Kurimu; each item was meticulously written in delicate calligraphy. 

You cherished the moments you spent together that inspired the menu, with him patiently guiding you through the art of kneading, braiding, and perfecting other techniques during Ulani’s naptime. With every recipe, he absentmindedly spoke about which ones he would like to add to his menu.

And you had soaked it up like a sponge. 

The prices next to each food item were modest, and as he read line by line, item after item, the irresistible emotion to scoop you up into his arms became more palpable.

But when he got to the bottom, he froze. 

Because at the bottom of the menu, written in chalk and clear as day, was something that didn’t make sense to him but demanded his attention, nonetheless.

Yu’s Famous Sweet Bread: Daily Special

He shook his head, mind faltering and struggling to put the pieces together because those words shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t have written that. He couldn’t make Yu’s sweet bread because he never got the recipe. And he wouldn’t fabricate his own iteration and tarnish his best friend’s memory. 

Flickers of irritation flared inside of him, completely unnecessary and unwarranted, waves of embarrassment bubbling in his stomach from the thought of being upset with you. But with tremendous effort, he managed to swallow it down. 

The sight was enough to make you lean over the edge of the counter, reaching for the Tupperware hidden beneath.

For weeks, it had been Gojo who would eagerly tear open the top and devour every batch that didn’t quite meet the mark. But now, it was Kento who stood there, staring at the Tupperware, blinking as you tore off the top and gestured the container towards him, his hands curling hesitantly around the edges of the plastic.

The aroma was heavenly, still steaming and flaky and he couldn’t help but reach inside and pull out a piece. He faltered, uncertainty clouding his face, unease bubbling in his gut, before finally taking a bit.

The flavors exploded on his tongue—buttery, not overly sweet, with hints of honey and cinnamon, just like he remembered. Just like how Yu used to make. A treasured recipe, perfected and replicated as if Yu had somehow manifested and made a batch just for him.

And suddenly his chest pulled tight once again, his throat constricted, and his heart hammered against his ribcage. He wasn’t upset, not even close. The unease that simmered in his belly fizzled away, died town as swirling waves of nostalgia took its place. 

It was too much. He couldn’t—

“It took me a few weeks. But Gojo was a good test subject.” You chuckled, wringing your hands around a clump of your curls in faint motions of anxiousness as you offered him a gentle smile. “I figured the man who only ingests sweets would be able to tell me if what I made tasted like Yu’s. And Kaya was a good final judge. It was a hunch, but it worked.” 

Nervously, you fidgeted, releasing your hands from the ends of your hair and burying them deep into the cozy embrace of your thick wool coat. You tried to convince yourself that his dumbfounded expression was a good thing. 

“I hope—was I wrong? I wanted the recipe to be perfect before I cooked some for you.”

You were fumbling and restless, finally taking the brunt of his lack of response and letting it fester within you. Maybe you had gone too far, overwhelmed him, and made him angry.

You shouldn’t have done this. You should have pulled back, and let him do things at his own pace.

While you were slowly beginning to despair from your spot in front of him, Kento was trying his best to move. To speak. To do something. 

Nothing could have prepared him for something like this. If someone were to tell him that all of this would be possible again, he would have turned around without another word and walked the other way. 

But it was possible. 

Here in the form of a bakery that had been brought back to life with newly painted walls, long-missed plants, a handcrafted menu, and a special recipe that he thought would have died along with the best friend who made it.

And you had done it all. Alone and without an ounce of assistance. And he had no idea. 

You had taken his dreams and shaped them into a reality.

Just like he did with you.

And for the first time, since he walked into the bakery, blindfolded and unaware, he finally moved of his own volition.

He set the container of sweet bread on the counter behind you and pulled you into a kiss so blinding, so searing, so overpowering that you were caught in between breaths, your lungs aching to stretch.

It was the only thing he could think to do. The only way he could try to say thank you for being the one constant in his life that had brought him nothing but consuming happiness when he believed he would only see and feel pain and grief. 

His touch was fervent against you, his hands cradling your cheeks, gliding along your neck, tilting your head up, up sharply so he could fall into you. And you reciprocated and caught him with the way your arms wrapped around him and the way your fingers tangled through the growing undercut at the nape of his neck.

The feel of wetness on your cheeks made you pull away from him, your hands descending from his hair to cup his cheeks, thumbing away faint traces of tears as he breathed shakily against you. He couldn’t stop them and didn’t shy away as you wiped them away as quickly as they fell. 

You were that beacon of light that he always looked for when he couldn’t seem to hold himself together. Even though he could barely open his mouth to express his gratitude, you still illuminated with unwavering brightness, seamlessly intertwining your fingers with his, guiding him forward without hesitation. 

You let out a gentle hum, feeling the remnants of familiar teasing tones vibrating along the skin of your lips. “I didn’t bring any tissues. Gojo won’t let you live this down if he sees your cheeks tear-stained,” you playfully remarked.

A harsh and wet chuckle bubbled from the middle of his chest, erupting from his throat as he sniffed pathetically and shot you an unheated glower.

“Stop teasing.”

A remark that might have seemed out of place to others but fit you both perfectly. Two words that he always murmured against your skin or playfully glared at you when you purposefully made him uncomfortable. It was something he loved, took pleasure in, and couldn’t imagine sharing those little mundane exchanges with anyone else.

“I love you,” he spoke softly, his words carrying an unwavering conviction and strength. 

You echoed the sentiment back just as strongly, your fingertips gliding along his sharp cheekbones, tracing down the slight upturned angle of his nose. 

The silence of the bakery was for once not as imposing as you rubbed your hands down his back, and Kento melted into your touch, his arms wrapping around your waist and drawing you closer. The scent and feel of you, unyielding and powerful against him, was still something he struggled to grasp—was only for him. 

He had his own plans for tonight. Had expected things to go a lot differently after dinner. Had worked through it in his mind over and over.

But as always, you had plans of your own. And, without complaint, he relinquished control and let you guide him.

“While I love you very much, Ken, we’re gonna be late for dinner if you don’t let go.” 

Those words, colored with a touch of humor, drifted into his ears and elicited another gentle chuckle from his chest before he pulled back and pressed his lips against yours. You were content to let him have just one more minute before pulling him out the door when—

“Oh!” you exclaimed, withdrawing from his lips abruptly. A surge of excitement coursed through your veins as you ignored his surprised expression, dark blonde eyebrows twitching with the urge to pout at being pulled from you too soon. Your hand instinctively dove into your coat pocket, retrieving your phone with nimble fingers. You eagerly sifted through emails until your eyes finally landed on what you had been searching for, flipping the phone around and pressing it to his chest. He gingerly took it from you, glancing over the contents and trying his best to ignore the sharp return of thumping in his chest.

“It’s just a drafted advertisement that I made with Jin,” you spoke proudly, fiddling with the lapels of his own dark brown wool trench coat. “I was able to organize a meeting with all of Yu’s previous employees, and they’ve all agreed to return whenever you decide to reopen.”

As you rambled on, your gaze remained fixated on the exquisite fabric of his coat—a gift from her mother—as you grounded yourself with its presence.

Kento was once again floored, his eyes tracing every detail that oozed your touch from your years of marketing experience. It was an ad that could be posted on social media, featuring a picture of the bakery and a short explanation of its upcoming reopening. 

To you, it was simple, quick to do, and without effort for many others. 

But to him, it was another token of your love freely given.

“The assistant manager even agreed to take over all morning shifts if you are still working at the company whenever it opens. We can do a ribbon cutting if you want! Or maybe a soft opening. I didn’t put a date for when it would open, but I was thinking after Ulani’s first birthday we could—”

“My love,” his voice cut you off, firm and tender. The hand not holding your phone cupped your cheek, guiding your gaze up to meet his. His naturally narrow eyes radiated affection, drawing you in with their burnt-umber warmth. “You’re rambling.”

Your voice caught in your throat, excitement and anxiety coiling and thrumming in equal rhythm. “I know,” you whispered. “I wanted to give you the option to submit it. It goes straight to Jin and he’ll have the company’s social media manager distribute it.” 

Your eyes flickered down to your phone in his hands, drawing Kento’s gaze back to the perfectly crafted advertisement on the screen, a bright green button labeled ‘SUBMIT’ catching his attention.

If you hadn’t gone above and beyond to turn the bakery into something Kento could call his own, he might have continued to stall for as long as possible. He would have lingered to order paint for the walls and waited until the last minute to redo the floors. Because even with his firm resolution when weeks ago he said to you that he was ready, a tinge of fear still lingered within him.

But seeing how much effort and support you had offered, showing him time and time again that he was ready, that you would be there to catch him if he ever fell, made him realize that he could face that fear with you by his side. And you were always by his side. 

Unquestionably. 

Unwaveringly.

In just a second, he pressed ‘submit’, a profound sense of accomplishment filling his chest, a feeling that never would have manifested if it weren’t for you. 

He gently placed the phone back into your coat pocket, his other hand cupping your exposed cheek. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, heating the blood beneath and lighting an inferno behind your eyes, the heat licking against them to coax a prickle of tears to bubble at the bottom of your lashes.

“Did you submit it?” you whispered, the heat of his breath caressing your lips.

“I did.”

“I’m glad.”

It was a familiar exchange between the two of you, reminiscent of the last time you had walked into the bakery after rushing from Rory’s studio with Ulani strapped to your chest. Back then, he had been somber, searching for answers from Yu’s spirit that still lingered within the walls. 

But now. Now as you responded, a sense of satisfaction flowed through you, knowing that he had his answer and could show Yu, in some way—if he was even watching—that his efforts had not been in vain.

“The fact that you did all of this for me…words cannot express how grateful I am for this. For you,” he uttered, his words washing over you effortlessly, brimming with adoration that only you would ever truly understand. You smiled up at him, wordlessly expressing your own gratitude and contentment that he was happy.

“You can show me how grateful you are. How about,” you began, enveloping your arms around his neck. You playfully tugged at the tip of one of his ears as his eyes traced over the features of your face, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “After dinner, you take on all responsibilities with Ulani tonight, draw me a bath, and then later…” you trailed off, a playful purr dancing in your words as your fingers traced a featherlight touch along his ear, watching with barely contained glee as he shuddered. “Later after we know Ulani is asleep…you do that thing I like.”

That thing in question was something that he only used for rare occasions, and the flickering memories of it had him blushing quickly and his hands sliding down to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that shook from your chest as he leaned down to place a wet kiss on your cheek once and then twice on the other side, before drawing back, your lips only a few centimeters apart and that recognizable faint smile on his face.

“Deal,” he whispered, slanting slightly chapped lips against yours, dragging you impossibly closer until there was no space between you both. 

Distantly, you remembered your reservations that you both would definitely be late for. 

And even though you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket with a text probably from Ome asking where you both were, the feel of his tongue sliding along your bottom lip in his well-known request for entrance made you ignore the second buzz that rattled your coat pocket.

Your friends could wait a few more minutes.

[moonlightspencie]

isn’t it?

Description: Years after the battle at Hogwarts, reader runs into an unlikely old friend. A simple invitation to tea leads to much more.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, slow burn babyyy, draco talking about traumatic events in the hp series, me being an american writing about folks in the UK (do not come for me),

Word Count: 10k

A/N: im a draco apologist, what about it. anyways, he gets a redemption arc in this. they’re like 20-23 in this. also had to make my own gif cause most malfoy girlies are 14 year olds from tiktok & don’t appreciate tom in his 20s. logging off forever now

check out the playlist!

Winter was one of my least favorite times of the year because of how horrifically frigid it got. I was never a fan of the cold months. At least not when it was so cold that my fingers would be numb from standing outside for a couple of minutes.

But, it could also one of my most favorite times for the days like this one.

I stepped into the bookstore, glancing around in the soft lighting at all of the cheery decor. They hadn’t yet taken down their Christmas decorations, so twinkling lights were still wrapped around the bookshelves. Snow fell gently outside, making the warmth inside that much more cozy.

I walked around the small shop, looking up and down various shelves until I found the section I was looking for. I started sorting through the various history books, picking out a few that piqued my interest. I slid down a little further, stopping only when I saw that I was encroaching on a stranger’s space.

I turned my head, making sure I hadn’t already gotten too close, when I saw a familiar, bright, blonde head of hair.

“Malfoy,” I breathed out.

His head turned quickly, wide eyes searching for the person who had accidentally called his name. They somehow widened even more when he recognized me and muttered my name, more to himself rather than as a greeting. I found myself walking towards him almost on instinct.

The last time we’d seen each other was years prior. His father had called his name from across the ruins of Hogwarts to join them. He’d stood still and unmoving, up until the point his mother’s voice finally convinced him. He glanced at me briefly before he walked away from the rest of us, and I had assumed I’d never see him again.

We always had a complicated relationship. Even more, it seemed Draco had very complicated feelings about me.

We were friends, for all intents and purposes, but it was a secretive kind of friendship. He was a Slytherin, from a very prejudiced family, and was quite frankly a bully much of the time. I was a Gryffindor, friends with Potter, and though I was a half-blood, I didn’t care for the idea that blood purity had any say in the value of a wizard. That had caused some tension early in our friendship before I knocked a little sense into him. Though, it still caused some problems for us. Especially after his parents heartily disapproved of me in our fifth year.

We’d been friends for nearly a year at that point. He had, rather foolishly, decided to introduce me to his parents over holiday, assuming they would also be willing to love me despite my disdain for blood-purity ideals. We’d left in uncomfortable silence, and, soon after, Draco had explained that his father had instructed him to stay away from me.

Of course, he hadn’t listened.

We still spent time together when we could, even when I’d begun to notice his increasingly tired eyes and gaunt state of being in sixth year. He never let me find out what the matter was until it was too late, however.

I hadn’t seen him after the night Dumbledore was killed until the battle at Hogwarts. Now, I was seeing him in a bookshop in London. A muggle bookshop.

“What…” I started, unsure what to say now. “Wow. It’s good to see you.”

He was silent, staring back at me in shock.

“I’m sorry, um, how’ve you been?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve, uh— Fine. I’m fine.”

“What are you doing here? In London, I mean?”

“Searching for something to read,” he said, the ghost of a chuckle leaving him.

“In a muggle shop?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I know, it’s probably strange to see me here.”

“It’s strange to see you anywhere. It’s been…”

“… A long time.”

I nodded in agreement. He looked down at the books in my hands.

“I see you’re still interested in muggle affairs.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, looking at my books. “After leaving Hogwarts I wasn’t really interested in becoming an auror anymore, so I started writing. I do a lot of writing for wizards interested in muggle history. I generally write a lot of magazine pieces, and I’m working on a book now.”

“Wow,” he said with brows raised. “That’s incredible.”

“Thanks. Are you doing anything… I don’t know. Like, for a job?”

“No. That was never really on the table for me, anyways, with my family’s—“ he sighed. “You know. All of that.”

“Right,” I nodded with half a smile. He’d always been raised with the idea that he’d be living off of the generational wealth. “What are you looking at here?”

“I still need hobbies, so I’ve taken up a lot of reading. Muggle fiction books have been particularly interesting to me lately.”

“Huh. Never expected that to come out of your mouth.”

He raised his brows quickly, nodding along slowly. He looked back to the book in his hands.

“They tend to think that witches are evil, mythical creatures. They also don’t believe that giants or dragons or werewolves exist. They’re all viewed as freaks to the muggles,” he said, looking back at me. “Most of the time, we’re all seen as the villain in their stories.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Everyone sees things differently. Usually the hatred comes in when they don’t care to learn about people who aren’t like them.”

He swallowed, looking down once again.

“I’m beginning to realize that much more, now.”

We both went quiet for a few seconds as a question was formulating in my head.

“Would you like to come over to mine for some tea?”

His eyes snapped to mine. He furrowed his brow, obviously not expecting the invitation.

“Really?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

He just stood there, unmoving like I was going to burst out laughing at him at any moment. He watched me with wary eyes, not responding.

“If you want to,” I added at last. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Uh, that would be nice. Yes.”

“Okay. Um, I’m going to go buy these now.”

I held up my books, then turned for the register. I finished after a few minutes, lingering near the door until he followed after with his own bag.

“So, where you do you live?” he asked as we walked out into the cold.

“Guildford. In Surrey.”

“How do you usually—“

“Take my hand,” I said, holding out my free hand.

He switched his bag over to the opposite hand, putting his cold one in mine. In a flash we were on my street. He looked up at the street lamps that were starting to turn on as the sky dimmed slowly. I let him take in his surroundings for a moment.

“Ready?” I asked after a beat.

He looked at me, snow sticking to his eyelashes.

“Ready,” he confirmed.

We started forward on the sidewalk, heading in the direction of my building.

“Are you still in Wiltshire with your parents?”

He nodded. “Yes. Though, I don’t see them much anymore. I’m usually out for most of the day if I can help it.”

“You don’t get along much anymore?”

He shrugged. “They disagree with a lot of my choices.”

“I see.”

We stepped into the foyer of my building, walking up to the third floor and wandering through the hall until we got to the door of my flat. I suddenly turned, his brows raising slightly as I looked at him.

“I feel like I need to tell you that I don’t live anywhere particularly… Special.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

I nodded, a small smile on my face as I unlocked the door.

It felt strange to have anyone in my flat, let alone someone I hadn’t seen for years after they’d betrayed my friends and myself. Usually, I only had over a few very close friends every few weeks. I wasn’t exactly prepared for company, and I felt that it showed as I pulled down two mismatched mugs. He lingered in the kitchen with me, looking entirely uncomfortable, his hands repeatedly clenching and releasing as if it would relieve whatever anxieties he was facing. I gave him a soft smile after setting the mugs on the counter near him.

“This cabinet here,” I started, pointing at the one next to the oven, “has all the teas. You can choose whichever one you’d like.”

He nodded, moving forward towards the cabinet as I filled the kettle with water. I set it on the stovetop, turning it on. He nervously looked through the various tea flavors for a few more seconds, then turned to me.

“Which one would you like?”

I looked at him, noticing that he hadn’t picked for himself yet.

“Are you asking in earnest, or do you need a recommendation?”

His cheeks flushed slightly as he gave me a small smile.

“Both.”

“I’d love an earl grey. I’ve got one that has some lavender in it as well, and it is delightful.”

He nodded quickly, pulling down two tea bags.

“That sounds nice.”

I smiled to myself, a little out of sorts at how polite he’d become. We waited in a strange kind of silence until I heard the water beginning to bubble in the kettle. I pulled it off the heat, filling the mugs Draco had popped the bags into earlier. He looked at me curiously.

“You know,” he began, pulling my attention to his amused face, “you’re supposed to wait until the kettle whistles.”

I shrugged. “I prefer to get to it before it starts up. I’m almost never too busy to have to listen to that horrible whistling.”

He laughed softly, nodding his head in understanding. I led him to the small table in my kitchen, and much to my surprise, he took the seat next to me rather than across the way. It was quiet for a minute or two, neither of us really sure what we were doing in my kitchen together.

“Can I ask something?” he blurted out.

“Sure,” I replied with a nod.

“Why did you invite me here?”

I shrugged. “I thought it might be nice to talk. It’s been a long time.”

“But I haven’t spoken to you since… You know. What’s the use in trying to talk to me now?”

“You agreed, didn’t you?”

He smirked, but it was a more gentle kind than what he would usually pull back in the day. Not full of cocky disdain for others, and more a way to tell me that I’d bested him with the simple phrase. It was nice.

We sat quietly for a few more minutes, each sipping our tea. I suddenly realized, only after inviting him into my home, that I had no clue what to talk to him about. I let out a soft breath, looking at him to find him already looking in my direction. I gave him a soft smile that he returned. Though, it quickly fell, and the both of us tilted our heads down again.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, “for leaving that day. When my mother called me over.”

I looked at him in surprise, staring up from my teacup.

He continued, “I should’ve stayed with you. With all of you. I was just in so deep at that point, and I couldn’t say no to her. And I know that isn’t an excuse, but I didn’t know what to do anymore. I was sure that the second something went sideways again, after all that I’d done, I would probably be the first one to die. I don’t know why nobody killed me in the meantime before V-Voldemort and the others came back with Potter.”

“Where did you go? After the room of requirement was set on fire?”

“I hid,” he mumbled, looking down at his tea. “I’ve always been a coward. I think I’ve deserved everything that’s happened to me after all of that.”

We sat after that, sipping our tea like nothing had been said to begin with. I looked back at him. He’d changed so much in the few years he’d been gone, and yet he was so different. He looked practically the same. Maybe a little healthier. He acted like a new person, though. All of that youthful bravado was gone, and what was left was quiet and remorseful and entirely not like the Draco I’d known in school. It shocked me more and more the longer we sat.

I sighed softly. “Draco?”

He looked at me with wide eyes.

“You haven’t called me that in forever.”

“I haven’t seen you in as long.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

I took in a breath, watching him a few seconds longer before I spoke.

“You know it’s never too late to change things, right? I know that you and your mother both made some decisions we never would’ve expected you to at the end, there. Harry told me.”

“That means nothing. I’ve always despised Potter. I was cruel to him every day, but he still saved my life. You all fought. You were all brave. Not giving him up one time was nothing compared to what all of the rest of you did.”

“You can still change things now, Draco.”

He shook his head.

“It’ll never be enough. I walked away from all of you when we thought Potter had died. I know you saw me doing it, too, and I know you were disappointed in me for it. Probably hated me,” he said, a humorless chuckle leaving him for a moment. “You were standing there by Granger and Weasley, and I looked at you right before I started across the courtyard, and you were already looking back at me. Looked like you could’ve killed me yourself.”

I swallowed, not taking my eyes off of him the entire time he spoke.

“I wanted better for you. I’d always hoped you would really, sincerely change for the better at some point, and it just never seemed to come,” I mentioned with a half-hearted shrug. “When I saw you walking out just in front of Luna, I hoped it meant you would stay with us. That you’d changed sides after Harry had gotten you out of the fire. Watching you leave after that…”

“I know. I’m shocked you even spoke to me in the bookshop.”

“I was shocked to see you at all. Especially in a muggle bookstore. I know you’d gotten off the hook after the war because of what you did for Harry, but honestly, I never thought you’d change. Not really, anyways.”

He nodded, looking away from me again. He only glanced back up once I continued speaking.

“But you have, now. That much is clear. You’re kinder now.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“You agreed to have tea with me. You willingly had a conversation with me in that bookstore rather than walking away from me. I thought for sure that you would when I saw you there.”

He shook his head. “I might have if it was anyone else. I wouldn’t do that to you, though. You were the only person who was kind to me in school. You’re the only one who really cared or noticed something was wrong in sixth year.”

“Do you really not see it?” I asked, laughing incredulously.

He furrowed his brow. “What?”

“You never would have told me any of this before. Draco, I know that you had done some horrible things, but it’s not too late to be different. And you’re already so different.”

He merely stared for a moment or two.

“I think I should go,” he said quietly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He stood abruptly, walking off towards the kitchen door. I followed after him, just barely reaching him as we reached my entry way. I reached out, grabbing his wrist. His eyes were wide as he turned his head towards me, casting his gaze towards where my hand held him from going any further.

“Just…” I sighed, putting on a smile. “Don’t be afraid to send an owl sometime.”

He nodded, his voice small, “Okay.”

I finally let him go, watching him take his coat and bag of of books, and walk out the door.

A few weeks later I sat at my desk at home, unable to get past a terrible bout of writer’s block. I hadn’t considered when writing a book that it wasn’t simply writing a long article. I had to craft each chapter in a meaningful way, and unfortunately, that meant that I had to get anything at all on paper. I sighed hard, needing an outlet for my dramatics. Suddenly, an unfamiliar owl was at my window. I opened it up, and the owl dropped a letter right on my window, staring almost curiously at me.

You requested that I send an owl sometime. I hope that you meant it, otherwise you can feel free to ignore this letter. Assuming you did mean it, I’d like to invite you to lunch on the thirteenth of February. I hope you’re well.

Draco

I looked up at the owl on my windowsill.

“Just a moment,” I said to it.

It chirped lightly in response. I quickly picked up some new parchment and a quill, scribbling out a response before I folded it and put it in an envelope. I reached into my bottom desk drawer, giving the owl a treat before handing off the letter.

“Thank you. Go home, now.”

The owl flew off into the sky, leaving me with a smile and an even emptier brain.

The date he’d suggested was less than a week out from when he’d sent his letter, and it arrived much sooner than I was expecting. He’d sent another letter soon after mine had arrived, telling me the time and location, and soon enough I was pulling on my shoes in order to leave.

I showed up outside of the café. Surprisingly, another muggle location. I walked inside, being greeted by a hostess.

“Hi, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here, um…”

“She’s with me,” Draco said, coming up near the hostess stand.

I smiled at him gratefully, my demeanor obviously edging on discomfort. He led me back to our table, pulling out my seat for me.

“Thank you,” I said, scooting in a little closer. “So, why this place?”

“Easier to make reservations and avoid judgements eating at muggle restaurants. They’re not exactly familiar with the Malfoy name.”

“Ah,” I nodded in understanding. “Makes sense. Well, it’s nice here.”

“It is. They have great soup.”

I laughed, looking down at the menu.

“What?” he asked with a smile.

“It’s just weird. Being here with you, and… talking about soup.”

“We could talk about sandwiches if you’d like.”

I laughed again, finding him doing the same. The afternoon ended up delightfully strange. We finished our food, and found ourselves on a walk around town, chatting about what we’d been doing in the years since we’d last seen one another.

In the final moments, I’d convinced him to visit another bookstore with me the following week.

It started to become a bit of a habit, really. We’d keep finding new places to bring one another to, and, for me, new excuses to keep seeing him. I didn’t necessarily have feelings for him, but I couldn’t deny that I found myself enjoying his company much more than I had as a teenager.

One chilly night in March, I’d come home from dinner with a friend absolutely wiped. I was more than ready to head off to bed after sitting around on my couch for a rerun of an old favorite show.

Though, halfway through the episode, there was a knock on my door. I walked over the front door, wand in hand as I wasn’t expecting any visitors at night. I looked through the peephole, hiding away the wand when I recognized the face outside the door. I opened it right afterwards.

“Hey,” he greeted, standing just outside my door.

My brows raised on instinct as he looked a little inebriated.

“Hi,” I said mindlessly. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down to the floor, shrugging a little. He rubbed at his face before he looked back at me.

“I might’ve been at the pub down the street. I thought about you there,” he swallowed. “Thought it might be nice to see you.”

“Do you want to come in?”

He nodded silently, stepping past me into my apartment. I shut and locked the door, turning to see him looking around the space. He looked back at me after a moment, a confused pout coming across his face as his eyes dropped to my outfit.

“Were you busy?”

I shook my head. “No, I just got home a bit ago.”

“Where’d you go?” he asked, toeing his shoes off to leave them near mine.

“Got dinner with Luna Lovegood.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “She still… Herself?”

“Draco,” I scolded.

“Sorry.”

I helped him take his coat off as he started struggling with the sleeves.

“Luna’s still an absolute sweetheart, as she’s always been,” I mentioned as I draped his jacket on a coat hook.

He wore a sage green sweater under the jacket, and it brought the slightest smile to my face that he still preferred his house colors when he wasn’t decked out in all black. He started wandering into my flat, looking around the living room.

“I like your home,” he said at last.

“Thank you,” I replied with a small laugh. “I’m going to go get you some water. Probably some ibuprofen too. It might help prevent a massive headache tomorrow.”

He nodded, not quite paying attention as he started walking around again. Once I gathered the cup of water and the medicine, I was at a loss. He’d escaped the living room. I walked around, checking the bathroom first, before finding my bedroom lamp on. I stepped into the room, finding him plopped down on my bed. This time, I couldn’t help but laugh fully.

He lifted his head with a quirked brow.

“What?”

“You. Laying there like you’ve just had your very first drink.”

“You’ve got a comfortable bed.”

“I’m aware,” I nodded, kneeling on the mattress next to him. “Come and drink some water, now.”

He sat up with a groan, accepting the ibuprofen and the cup from me. He drank down the water quickly, letting out a sigh as he handed back the empty cup.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, dropping back down.

He was quiet for a few seconds as I set down the empty cup on my nightstand, just staring at the ceiling.

“Is it okay that I came here?”

I furrowed my brow, laying on my back next to him.

“I’m happy you showed up here rather than going and causing trouble someplace else.”

“You’ve always been a good person,” he said with a sigh. “Why were you ever friends with me? I was awful.”

“Seemed like you needed someone good in your life. You were surrounded by some truly terrible people,” I mentioned with a chuckle. “When we ended up seated next to one another in potions and you actually laughed at jokes I made that weren’t at the expense of another person, I realized you might not be totally hopeless.”

He laughed. No— he giggled, covering his face with his hands.

“You know, my other friends hated you,” he said, voice muffled.

I reached over, pulling his hands away from his face. He smiled softly as I did, watching me as he continued talking.

“They all thought I went crazy for being friends with you. Blaise told me I was going to get kicked out of Slytherin if I kept it up, and Parkinson was really upset because she wasn’t the only girl around me anymore.”

“I always thought she had a crush on you.”

He hummed. “Yeah, I think so. It was kind of annoying, to be honest. At first I liked the attention, but it got old very quickly.”

“I can imagine.”

“You know what I always thought?”

I shrugged. “No clue.”

“I thought for forever that Potter had it bad for you. Up until he started crushing on the Weasley girl, I was convinced.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, looking back at the ceiling. “Either him or Longbottom. They were always around you.”

“Because we were friends,” I said with a laugh. “I still see them sometimes, you know?”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I haven’t seen my school friends since, well, everything happened.”

“You’ve seen me, at least.”

He smiled a little.

“That’s true. Nobody else, though. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“I think it probably is.”

A silence fell over us for a few moments. I stared at the sheets in between us, brushing my fingers across them.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asked, voice just above a whisper.

“Why would I be cruel?”

He sighed dejectedly. “I deserve it. I was— I’ve done terrible things.”

I sighed softly. “I know what you’ve done, Draco. I was kind of there for much of it.”

A smile tugged at his lips, though he shoved it away just as quickly as it appeared.

“There’s still a lot you don’t know,” he said at last. “You wouldn’t stick around if you did.”

“I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

I fell silent again for a minute or so, milling over what to say next in my head. I heard him let out a soft breath, and turned my eyes to watch him. His hair was messier than usual, with his natural waves sneaking their way out of the gelled constraints they were usually stuck in. His skin glowed in the soft lighting of my bedroom, especially now that the constant dark circles he’d worn for the past few years were gradually fading away with time.

He called my name in question. I hummed in response, turning my body to face him, listening as he started speaking again.

“I just,” he sighed, taking a moment. “I wonder if things would’ve been different if I told you back then. Or anyone.”

“It might have changed things a little, but at that point, do you think you would’ve been able to avoid what you had to do?”

He shook his head. “No. It just might have been nice for someone to know.“

“I think you would be too stubborn to tell anyone, though,” I said with half a smile.

He smiled back, looking down at the mattress as he nodded.

“I definitely would’ve been. That’s part of the reason I never told you in the first place.”

I raised a brow. “What was the other part?”

He swallowed, looking at me again.

“I was worried you might put yourself in danger.”

“How?”

He snorted a laugh. “If you think I was stubborn, you have got to know that you were much worse. You probably would’ve tried helping me at the worst possible moment and gotten yourself killed.”

I scoffed. “I’m not that dumb.”

“You could act like it sometimes.”

My eyes widened as he hid a smile.

“Oh, so you do still like to make fun of me, huh?”

“Old habits are hard to beat.”

“You still secretly like dancing?”

His smile fell a bit as he thought it over.

“I haven’t really had a reason to since… Everything.”

Whatever came over me in that moment to drive my actions could possibly be instinct to comfort an old friend. It could’ve been the need to reach out to someone clearly in pain. It could’ve just been that I wanted to touch him. I scooted closer, resting my head on his chest. My hand rested on his stomach, and I felt him sigh softly through it. He didn’t say anything, but I did feel him go a bit rigid.

I lifted my head up when I noticed the stiffness in his body.

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first,” I rushed out, “Is this okay?”

His cheeks turned slowly pink as he stared back at me, nodding.

“I, um,” he let out a quick breath, “Yes. I just don’t really ever—“

Understanding dawned on me. “Oh. Well, it’s just like a hug.”

He stared back once again, unmoving for a few moments. I furrowed my brow in question as he looked away from my face.

“The only person, um, who ever really hugs me is… mum.”

I watched him quietly, unsure what to say. It had always been evident that he never had a shot at a normal childhood, but I hadn’t considered how much of that normalcy was completely stripped from his life. He closed his eyes.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he said quietly. “That’s so humiliating.”

“No, no,” I said, brushing some of his hair from his face before quickly pulling away. “Not at all. That isn’t your fault.”

“If I wasn’t such a horrible child…”

“It may have helped to make real friends, but you were raised in an echo chamber of hatred. For the longest time you didn’t know how to be anything but mean. Clearly, if your own father didn’t even hug you as a child.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, nodding slowly.

“Plus,” I added, “things are so different now. I saw you starting to change a little back then. I wasn’t the only one to notice either, you should’ve seen my friends’ faces when you smiled at me in passing on the way to classes the first time. Since then, things have changed tenfold. Why not lean into that?”

He nodded again, giving me the faintest smile imaginable. I settled back against his chest, finally feeling his arms carefully wrapping around me. They just barely rested over top of me, not dissimilar to how an adult would try to hug a toddler. I let one arm stretch across his torso, holding him tightly, and, eventually, he held me just as tight.

I opened my eyes to sun-washed sheets, and a breathing pillow under my head. I tilted my head up, seeing him still absolutely passed out. His breathing came soft and steady, and he looked utterly at peace. I only looked away from his sleeping form when he started stirring. He let out a soft little groan, his arms tightening around me slightly. Only after he gave a sigh did I have the nerve to look back at his face.

“Good morning,” I said.

He smiled softly. “Morning. M’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind,” I looked down at our clothes. “Just a bit unfortunate we fell asleep in these clothes. Not the most comfortable.”

He laughed. “Yes. Maybe next time it would be better not to be wearing trousers. I think I’d personally prefer some flannel pajamas.”

“I’m partial to sleep shorts.”

He let out another small laugh, as did I. His cheeks were tinged pink as he looked back at me, though I can’t say I didn’t feel the heat rising in my face as well.

“How are you feeling?”

He shrugged lightly. “Surprisingly fine. Thanks for taking care of me last night.”

“Any time, Malfoy.”

I reluctantly pulled myself out of his arms, sitting up in the bed. I stretched out my arms above my head, then turned to him once again to announce I’d be back in a moment. I found myself doing my usual bathroom duties in a kind of haze. There was a smile stuck to my face that I couldn’t quite get rid of. I chose not to look into it too much, especially as I reentered the bedroom to find him rubbing at his sleep-ridden eyes.

“There’s an extra toothbrush I left in the bathroom for you. It should be the yellow one next to mine,” I mentioned.

He gave me a small smile, nodding his head.

“Thanks.”

I hummed in response. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Tea and toast sound okay?”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, standing up.

I merely raised a brow at him as he drew closer. He silently conceded, following me out of the bedroom in order for each of us to get to what we needed to. I filled the kettle, put the bread in the toaster, and somehow managed to spill my entire cup of water all over the floor after setting out the mugs. I grumbled to myself, getting down with a towel to clean up my mess.

“Clumsy one, aren’t you?” he asked with a laugh as he found me crouched down on the floor.

I looked up to where he stood near the sink, feigning annoyance at his cheery state. I stood up, crossing over to wring the towel out.

“Wait,” he exclaimed, though too late.

I stepped forward, not seeing the bit of spilled water I hadn’t cleaned up. I slipped and, in an attempt not to tumble to the floor, grabbed onto his arms. He laughed at me as I regained my balance, earning him a furrowed brow and a hidden smile of my own.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“It was funny,” he defended. “You should’ve seen your face.”

I squeezed his forearms briefly before beginning to drop my hands. Though, the way his face dropped as I did so kept me from completely breaking contact.

“Are you okay?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, I’m— It’s fine.”

I quirked a brow, unbelieving.

“I’m not buying that. What’s wrong?”

He looked down, his eyes quickly darting to where my hand was placed on his left arm. I took in a breath.

“Oh,” I said quietly. “Do you… It’s still there, isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

I firmed my hold on his arms again, gently rubbing my thumbs against the fabric of his sweater.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s my own fault.”

“I’m still sorry. I’ve never thought about the fact you’d always have to hide it.”

He breathed out slowly, shakily, still looking down.

“Is there any way to rid yourself of it?” I asked after a beat.

“No,” he shook his head. “There are some charms I can use temporarily to hide it if I need to, but nothing permanent works. It’s forever.”

I nodded, looking back at his face until he met my eye. He cleared his throat, pulling his arms from out of my grasp.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“I’m used to it. I haven’t forgotten your little attitude every time you spotted me with Harry or one of the others.”

I reached down to grab the towel I had dropped.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I couldn’t help it. You were so likable, and they were just...”

“My friends. So watch it, Malfoy,” I scolded with a smirk.

“Right,” he nodded, fighting a smile himself. “Everyone has their flaws.”

I scoffed out a laugh, lightly slapping his shoulder with the back of my hand. He laughed, leaning against the counter.

“Right then, you can pour your own tea,” I noted as I wrung out the towel.

“You’ll still get the toast though?”

I furrowed my brow as I tossed the towel down, turning to him.

“Only because you don’t know where I keep the plates or else you’d be on your own.”

He gave me a knowing smirk, taking the kettle just before it began whistling to fill both of our mugs. I took down the plates, setting the toast on each of them before getting the butter and jam set out. We set to work, side by side, on preparing our breakfast. It felt oddly normally as we went about our business, putting everything away before we sat at the kitchen table.

We found ourselves laughing over nothing in particular before we knew it, and, eventually, it was dark outside once again. The surprise on his face told me all that I needed to know as he looked out the window and declared that he should probably be going on his way. I walked him to the door, watching as he gathered his things again, and as he apparated away.

Our owls were sent back and forth over the next few weeks, and though we saw each other frequently, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander on the days we didn’t have much communication. Frankly, it wandered a great deal even when we were together. Usually to his eyes. The way he’d look at me when we’d stop talking. Or the way he’d smile when we did some silly activity together. Or his laugh when I’d make a stupid jokes. Or his hands.

May came quickly, and with it came warmer weather. It was nice to have my windows open whenever it wasn’t raining, and it was absolutely wonderful to have lakeside picnics or nighttime strolls through the nearby park as the month bled into June. Those little outdoor escapades started to become a habit. A way of being out in the world together with nobody else around.

Not that alone time was necessarily important to us. It certainly didn’t make my cheeks flush with heat every time we sat completely by ourselves on a picnic blanket with favorite snacks of mine that he’d somehow remembered and brought along when he showed up at my door. I most definitely hadn’t made a habit to lie to myself about the entire ordeal.

“Walk?” he asked after we’d finished playing a game of wizard chess.

I nodded. “Of course. It’s a gorgeous night, we may as well enjoy it, right?”

He smiled, standing and taking my hands to help me off the ground near my coffee table. We pulled on our shoes, and headed out. It was warm, and the most gentle breeze went through the new leaves on the trees as we passed them. He made silly conversation with me as we kept on, so much so that we’d lost track of the time. I could only tell it had been a while when my legs started growing a bit tired.

We sat on a bench nearby after our walk through the park, relishing in the warm night air of the summertime.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight,” I commented.

He hummed in agreement.

“It does,” he said, suddenly putting on a small smile. “That’s one benefit to me staying out all hours of the night with you.”

I laughed. “Oh dear. You may just have to stay over again. How horrible. It’s not like you can apparate home at any moment.”

“This is your fault, you know? You just have to live so far away,” he said in feigned annoyance, ignoring the last sentence I’d spoken. “Maybe I should just make friends elsewhere.”

“Yet, you still accept every time I suggest some kind of activity for us to do rather than finding new friends. Why’s that?”

“You’re… Different,” he whispered, like it was some miraculous secret.

“How?”

He sighed softly. “People back home, what I grew up with— It’s nothing like this. Everyone is cold. They all care so much about the wrong things.”

“You think I care about the right things?”

He smiled softly. “You care about me. That’s enough.”

“Who would’ve guessed Malfoy would become such a softie,” I mentioned with a smirk. “Oh, how things change.”

“Some things don’t,” he said with a shrug. “You still somehow choose to be my friend.”

“All that childhood bullying and teenage depression captivated me.”

He furrowed his brows, an unbelieving laugh passing his lips. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, looking around at the park as it was washed in moonlight. I felt his fingers brush against my hand, and I willingly opened my palm to him. He slid his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Look up,” he said quietly, and I obliged. He pointed up at the stars in the clear sky. “There’s a constellation there. Just between the… It’s right by ursa major, the plough constellation.”

“Mhm,” I hummed along.

“Right along here,” he traced a line of stars in my vision. “Do you know what that constellation is called?”

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

“Draco. It was called that because it kind of resembles a dragon. I don’t know for sure if my parents named me because of the constellation, but I like to think so.”

I smiled, glancing at him rather than the stars. He looked at peace as he stared up into the sky, his thumb gently rubbing against my hand. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye after a minute, at which point I looked back into the night. The stars really were beautiful that night. They looked brighter than normal, and the constellation patters I did recognize were easy to spot. Now, there was a new one I wouldn’t soon forget.

I heard him sigh next to me after a few minutes, and turned my head slightly to find he was already looking at me. This time, neither of us looked away.

“You’re my best friend,” he said, almost too quietly to hear.

Unsure of what to say in that moment, and wanting to do more than offer a smile, I leaned my head against his shoulder. He let out another soft breath, dropping his head against mine. I brought our connected hands up, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his.

“When was the last time you were in Hogsmeade?” I asked quietly.

He gave a soft chuckle to that.

We walked down the street the next day in the afternoon, everything looking quite different now that the weather was quite warm.

“It’s strange not being here in the wintertime,” I noted.

He nodded. “It is. I haven’t been in years.”

We walked up to a familiar building, and I reached out to him. I grabbed his hand, pulling him into the pub. We were offered a seat, but not before receiving several stares.

“You might not want to be holding my hand in front of everyone here,” Draco leaned in to whisper.

“I’m not terribly worried about being seen with you, you know?” I whispered back in reply. “Anyone who knows me is already aware that we used to be friends.”

We sat at the table, placed our orders, and were left alone once again. He let out a breath, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Seriously, don’t worry about all of them,” I said, leaning on the table. “Half of everyone in here were secretly on the wrong side anyways. They just fly under the radar because they don’t come from a powerful family.”

“Still. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“You aren’t. Besides, I’m used to people judging me for being around you.”

He deadpanned. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“My point is that I don’t care about being seen with you. Okay?”

He swallowed, sighing softly.

“You make it terribly difficult to try and protect you.”

“Probably because I don’t need to be protected. Stop worrying about me so much,” I stated with a laugh.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, a small smirk on his face.

Our drinks were brought to the table, along with some assorted appetizers.

“Just don’t tell your parents that we’re friends this time,” I joked, hoping that wouldn’t strike a chord.

He snorted. “I already have.”

I straightened in surprise, looking at him with curious eyes. He glanced at me, a partial smile on his face when he saw my shock.

“And you’re still allowed to live with them?”

“It’s been a long time since they’ve tried to make decisions for me like that. After practically forcing me to become a, uh—“

“Yep.”

He nodded, thankful he didn’t have to say it.

“After that happened, my father laid off. Mother still worries for me, but she knows now that at least I’m safe. That’s all that’s ever really mattered to her.”

“They still hate me, though?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a curt nod.

I smiled to myself, sipping at my drink. He shook his head.

“You look pleased with yourself.”

“I’m sorry to say, but I don’t really feel too terrible that they don’t like me.”

“I know,” he said.

I looked back up to see a small smile on his face as well.

“Also, most of that smile is because I haven’t had a butterbeer in a terribly long time.”

Two months flew by after our visit to Hogsmeade. Though, it was filled with almost daily visits with one another. Usually, he’d just show up and keep me company as I wrote. Sometimes, he’d even give input when I asked for it, or let me read him chapters to see how it sounded. His sleepovers even became more frequent, and part of me had to wonder what on earth anyone would think of it if they knew.

I’d told my friends bits and pieces of what had been taking up so much of my time over the last eight months, but not quite the whole story. Luckily, they hadn’t been too angry with me for it. Most of them were rather indifferent, especially after I’d told them about how he’d changed. I never expected them to forgive him, though. I wouldn’t believe how different things had become if I hadn’t seen how he’d changed for myself.

But he truly did. And it was incredible.

During the breaks I’d take from writing, he was usually excited to tell me about the muggle books he’d been reading. Sometimes out of surprise at the content, and sometimes just because he appreciated the writing.

The icing on top was being with him and running into Ron and Hermione. The looks on their faces when he was gentle and kind in their interaction was absolutely priceless. She’d written me days later to ask if I’d found his long-lost twin, not quite believing that he was capable of being anything but who he used to be. But, as I’d repeatedly told Draco himself: it’s not only possible for people to change for the good, it’s probable for those who care to.

So, our days passed comfortably. He only became more kind and, frankly, affectionate, as time went on.

It was on a beautiful August evening when he knocked on my door, our plans already set in place.

I tugged the door open at the sound and took him in, my brows raised slightly. He was in a white button-down and a black sweater vest. There was a messenger back slung across his chest, one hand with a silver ring adorning it held the strap. His cheeks were slightly pink from the weather outside, and he practically glowed. For lack of a better word, he just looked pretty.

He furrowed his brow, looking back at me.

“Everything alright?”

I nodded fast. “Yeah. You just look really nice today.”

“Oh,” he replied, cheeks suddenly flushed. “You also look nice. I like your blouse.”

“Thanks.”

“I brought something,” he said, giving me a shy smile.

“Okay,” I said curiously. “Are you going to at least take off your shoes?”

He shook his head. “No. In fact, you should probably put yours on.”

I furrowed my brow, though I listened anyways. I started pulling on my shoes.

“I thought we were going to have dinner here first, and then go to the cinema.”

“Change of plans,” he shrugged.

“Alright,” I laughed, still unsure.

He pulled a small object out of the bag he carried, unfolding the cloth around it to reveal a small stone statue. I quirked a brow, looking down at the little object.

“What’s this?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“On the count of three, reach out to it and hold on.”

“Draco, is this a portkey?”

“One…”

“Is this one even legal?”

“Two…”

“You’re insane.”

“Three.”

We both held onto the small statue, and in an instant we were in some alleyway. I took in a sudden breath, feeling out of sorts from the transport.

“Where did you get that?”

“My family has had it forever,” he said, wrapping it back up and tucking it into his bag.

“Where are we?”

He smiled at me, taking my hand. I followed him along blindly, until he lead me into a building. I looked around at the tall ceilings and the beautiful chandelier that hung in the middle.

“Wow,” I said, mostly to myself.

He walked us up to the front desk, greeting the clerk in French. My eyes widened as they continued a conversation, ending only when he took a key from her. He then began leading me towards the elevator, still not loosening his grip on my hand.

“I didn’t know you spoke French.”

He smirked as he pressed the elevator button.

“I brought a few things with in my bag, but I didn’t bring any clothes. I thought we could get whatever else we needed here.”

I quirked a brow as we stepped into the elevator. He hit the button for the right floor.

“How long were you planning on staying?” I asked with a laugh.

“Just tonight and daytime tomorrow. We could stay longer if you want to?”

“No, that’s plenty,” I replied, a smile stuck to my face. “This is crazy.”

“Is it?”

“Practically clinically insane.”

He laughed, pulling me out into the hall. He walked us down the hallway, opening the right door when we arrived, and letting me walk in ahead of him. The room was huge. It had a beautiful sitting area, and judging by the height of the curtains, I was sure the windows would be gorgeous. He called me over as he entered the bedroom through large double doors, and I took it all in. He dropped his bag and flopped down onto the huge mattress.

“Whoa,” I said finally, shaking my head. “I don’t know what else to say.”

I fell down next to him on the bed, smiling over at him when he turned his head to me.

“You like it?”

“This is too much, Draco. Really,” I began. “But, it’s amazing.”

“I have one more thing to show you before we get dinner.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“You’ve seen the eiffel tower before?”

I shook my head. “Only in pictures.”

He stood quickly, and I sat, watching him circle the bed. He grabbed the tall curtains, pulling them apart with force. I stilled before scrambling to my feet and meeting him at the window. I looked out the practically-floor-to-ceiling windows to see the tower glittering against the night sky. I sighed, absolutely wonderstruck.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? One thing I’m sure the muggles got right.”

I laughed, unbelieving, turning to throw my arms around his middle. He held me against him, resting his head on top of mine as we looked out the window again.

“We’ll have all night to stare out the window if you’d like to, but I don’t think the restaurant we’re eating at will wait as long.”

I looked at him, a smile still stuck to my face. He smiled back, just as gently, tucking some hair behind my ear. I felt my heart beat a little faster then, especially as he didn’t look away from me this time. Usually at this point, one of us would have come up with some clever distraction from whatever tension laid between us. It was silent, but not uncomfortable. There was almost a whisper of ‘tell the truth’ floating there, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to open my mouth to speak. He moved forward the slightest bit, though before anything could happen, he did speak.

“We really should go,” he said as a whisper. “Our reservation is in five minutes, and I’d feel horrible if we missed it.”

He gave a boyish smile, one that I couldn’t help but to return, even if I’d secretly hoped for a different outcome. I nodded silently, accepting his hand again once we walked to the door. We apparated near a relatively quiet street, stepping out onto the sidewalk in order to integrate into the other pedestrians. We walked into a small restaurant hidden through a wall. I hadn’t expected him to take me to a wizards-only restaurant, but especially not one that had me forcefully closing my jaw after it had involuntarily dropped.

“Dray, this is incredible, but it might be a little above my pay grade,” I mentioned, leaning in a bit to speak quietly.

He hummed. “That’s why instead of splitting the bill how you like, I’m just going to pay for it.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“Just let me be nice,” he said, turning the tables to scold me for once.

“Are you sure I’m not underdressed?”

“You look beautiful. Quit worrying.”

I attempted to drop my hand from his as he spoke with the hostess, though his grip only tightened a bit. I felt my cheeks flush a little when he flashed me a knowing smirk and the raise of a brow. We started walking back into the restaurant behind the waitress after a moment.

I spoke quietly as we went, “What, are you trying to romance me now, Malfoy?”

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“Maybe I am. Are you opposed?”

I hid a smile. “No.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” he muttered under his breath, earning a laugh from me.

Dinner was beautiful, and wildly delicious. It definitely helped that I wasn’t terribly worried about the bill. I also can’t say I hated the idea of his family’s money going towards the meal of a wizard who was against practically everything they stood for. It felt like a small victory. Though, it was a bit strange to be surrounded by wizards who weren’t preoccupied with staring at us.

We stepped out of the restaurant, and rather than zipping someplace else, he was determined to walk to our next destination. He held my hand in his like he was afraid he’d lose me if he didn’t, swinging our arms along without a care.

“You seem happy,” I commented.

“I am,” he affirmed, bumping into me slightly. “I’m with you, for one. Plus, we haven’t received a single sideways glance from anyone around here. It’s nice that you’re the only person who knows me.”

I smiled to myself at that, letting him start swinging our arms again. He grinned over at me as we walked past crowds of people that grew increasingly larger. We probably looked ridiculous, but I certainly didn’t care. Not when I’d never seen him happier.

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” I said.

“Go on, then.”

“Why did you bring me to Paris?”

He glanced at me again, eyes a little wider. I raised one brow in question. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, I don’t know if you remember, but we were in some class. I don’t know which one, I think it was in second or third year,” he shrugged with a slight laugh.

“Oh,” I said, drawing his attention away.

We both looked up, suddenly seeing the peak of the tower come over a building. He made a decision to table my question, instead opting to tug me along as he started running ahead. We bolted forward, avoiding tons of people as we came up on the glittering structure, out of breath from both the run and the laughter at how silly we’d become over a hunk of metal. We walked the rest of the way until we were close enough to really look up at it. I held onto his arm with my free hand, resting my head against his shoulder.

“Wow.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Yeah.”

We stood quietly for a few moments, just to take it all in. The only thing I could really hear was the beat of my own heart and indecipherable conversation being had by the other people nearby. I finally looked back at him, and somehow he was still more gorgeous than everything else I’d seen that night.

He looked at me, a glimmer in his eye as that same old sweet smile showed on his face.

“So, what was the rest of that story?” I asked.

“Ah,” he said with a curt nod. “Well, in that class, someone had asked about portkeys. But before the professor had started to explain it, they called on you to pick anywhere in the world you’d like to go. I guess to demonstrate that a portkey could be enchanted in order to get to that place. You said you’d want to go to Paris and see the Eiffel tower.”

“You remembered that?”

He merely nodded. I tilted my head.

“How did you possibly keep that in mind after all this time?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve… I just remember when it comes to you.”

“That’s crazy,” I laughed. “I don’t understand how you could remember something that happened in a class almost ten years ago. We weren’t even friends then.”

“Well, I,” he began, eyes going starry and somehow prettier than they’d ever been, “I suppose I’ve always loved you.”

I fell completely quiet, about one billion thoughts speeding through my head. Only one rose above the others: I love you. But I still wasn’t saying it. Why wasn’t I saying it? Why wasn’t I saying anything at all?

“Sorry, that was too much to—”

I interrupted what would surely be a lively rambling session from him, and threw myself at him, our lips finally connecting for the first time. As soon as the shock wore off for him, he kissed me back. His lips were soft and careful against mine, his arms wrapping around my middle to pull me in closer, and my hands pressed against his chest. I smiled into the kiss, leaving a few lingering pecks against his lips before we broke apart.

I looked at him, taking in everything that I could about that moment. I sighed.

“You’re so pretty,” I said softly.

That definitely wasn’t what I meant to say.

He laughed. “Yeah?”

“Sorry,” I groaned with a laugh of my own, leaning my forehead against his chest.

He lifted my face with one hand under my chin, pressing one more soft kiss to my lips.

“I love you, is what I meant to say,” I noted.

“I knew this trip was a good idea.”

“So this was the plan from the start, hm?”

He smirked. “Not the plan. Just a hope.”

We went back the hotel room, thought not without my genius idea to grab a cheap bottle of wine first.

It felt more fitting than champagne given that we’d spend the rest of the night staring out of the window and laying lazy kisses on one another.

We found ourselves back at my flat a week later, almost as if nothing had changed. But really, everything had changed. Completely and totally.

We sat on my couch, our tea cold from sitting without any attention on the coffee table in front of us. He talked to me about nothing for hours, and there’s nothing else I’d wanted to be doing than wasting away the day with him. It had quickly become my favorite activity.

“You know,” he started, “inviting me over for tea that day after I’d made quite the reputation for myself was probably a stupid idea.”

“But?” I prodded.

“But,” he said, pressing a kiss to my lips before continuing, “I am utterly thankful you did.”

“Aww. My pretty boy,” I cooed, earning a groan from him.

“You can’t keep calling me that.”

He grabbed my hand as I reached to pinch at his cheeks, kissing my knuckles softly.

“Yes, I can. You secretly love it.”

He blushed. “I love you. There’s a difference.”

I sighed, cuddling into his side. “Does this mean you’re going to take me home and introduce me to your parents as your girlfriend, now?”

“I’m pretty certain I’ll have to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I’m going to inherit the manor one day.”

“And?” I questioned, laughing.

He kissed me again, speaking quietly against my lips.

“You won’t be my girlfriend forever,” he said with a smirk. “Gotta make sure you’ll like the place.”

[aleksa-sims]

RL Story

Another year's almost over. It was Christmas. N.'s Mom invited my family. Even my Grama came. I was so happy about that. As you can see, Melanie also showed up. 👺

Well she's Nico's sister and belongs to his/our family. The relationship between me and Melanie was still tense. She hasn’t spoken to me, since she saw me again. I don’t care, as long as she avoids me and stops insulting me.😒

Sandra and her new bf Dario (Psycho) have also come. Sandra seemed so happy with him. He also got along well with us. Except with Ana! Ana did not like him from the beginning. She avoided him, she didn’t feel comfortable around him. As if Ana had sensed, that a part of Dario was dangerous. I didn’t feel any of this! I didn’t notice anything negative about him at the beginning.

Last year I spent Christmas with Daniel and his family. His weird, crazy mother, Tatiana his sister, and Irma that freak.😠It was all about our wedding. 😢💔Ngl, I also thought about Daniel this Christmas at N.’s Mom's. I was wondering where he might be? He has been through so much this year. I wished he was happy and clean, wherever he was.

The strangest thing for me about this funny evening was Nico's Dad. Why was he there? He & N.'s Mom are divorced. She’s happy with Felix. Nico didn’t want to see him as usual anyway. Melanie also seemed to avoid her Dad more and more. So I asked myself why he wasn’t with his new wife at Christmas? 🧐

Anyway. It was a nice evening. Next year, when hopefully everything goes well, we will celebrate Christmas with our Baby. 💙I was very nervous at that time. I was terribly afraid of childbirth. 😨Only 3 Weeks left. Help!

Previous/Next

[sonny-whorezik]

haiii ... like a week short of a month since i left everything.... i just wanted to use as Journal and catch up before i do Fully return to social media, gettin rid of the app after this post yet again:

has . been . rough. grief has been consistent the last month from my best friend and now ex leaving me, losing that new job due to being physically sick from grief and being unemployed an additional month, my best best friend my dog, sage, passed away last friday and although i left to drive to kansas i just didn't make it in time. She has wind chimes over her grave and passed listening to the sound of the wind chime my great grandma left for me. two days after her passing marked the First Full Year since my grandpa passed away, i had a dream the night before where we drove around looking at christmas lights with people no longer in my life and he just looked so so sad. i am consistently physically alone; i facetime a couple friends but i go outside alone, sleep/wake up alone, eat alone, this has been going on since i left arizona in november Most of my time is spent completely alone.

ive tried new habits. i meditate and stretch in the morning and night. i read a page a day of a stoicism book my dad got me last year with a propeller hat. i see a therapist weekly, wake up earlier, even floss now. The complete back to back to back grief has left me no choice but to just Do Something. while i would Love to share something with someone its best i reserve it to myself, yet here i am vacantly sharing my last month to who knows who...

my friend invited me to see stop making sense last night in a farther town, showed the original film not the remastered and general admission was all standing and everyone acted as if it was a real concert dancing and singing. this was my 6th time seeing it in a theater. did not cry once yet celebrated the experience i have had and although i will never have anything quite like i did with someone quite like them, at least i had it for a good portion of my life. had to devote this must be the place to myself, foreign. to be completely transparent, i do miss them every day. i do not cry like i used to, i dont let myself get consumed by thought and feeling, ive grown more desensitized as time has passed, but i still miss them of course. i consistently see things that remind me of them even when theyre not on my mind and when sage died i wanted to reach out so terribly; reminisce of the fort we built where she slept with us and i had no one to talk to but my mom who was with her til the end. i didnt. i havent reached out. it is not my place given they were the one to leave i just will not keep reaching out and chasing someone who sounded so blatantly apathetic on our last phone call. i tell myself it was just a form of self preservation to them but yknow. like. that's it, i have no choice but to experience grief with self compassion and continue on, wherever that goes.

i may be starting TMS treatment , having magnets zap my brain 5 days a week, 6 weeks. i see a cardiologist on the 30th since my chest frequently hurts and both ekgs have concerns in the pause between beats. my pulse at resting is consistently around 120 yet my blood pressure is fine; who knows. well i guess ill know actually in 10 days. im finishing a vape, got a full pack of cigarettes ive yet to touch yet plan to quit smoking here soon in hopes it helps. maybe after my pack to eliminate temptation yet not waste my money... i bought it an hour before sage passed. i barely drink coffee and dont use energy drinks anymore i do what i can for my heart now.

atticus still sleeps with me, most nights. sometimes he wanders the living room when i cant sleep. im almost halfway through galapagos. i washed my sheets for the first time since buying them in august. im very much alone and this is all fine i tell myself. the stoicism has encouraged me to alter my perspective on things more rationally as opposed to the wired self deprecating and depression-based "take everything personally" thought processes ive had for 18 years. im on my phone significantly less and i even wrote a piece on piano i may share after this post. ive been transposing it to cello, my grandma requested.

i have no interest in perusing anyone anytime soon still, whether its still too early or what i think i do just Need to do these things alone for a while. ive never found sole stability in others, i learned this at 6 with my dad, yet while outside aid would help, it is not a requirement to live however. forgive me for how long this is and for leaving once again there are a few of you i used to talk to daily and now ive just got a few contacts in my phone.

despite chronic mental illness, mourning, loneliness, you name it, ive never taken this approach before. i will typically have a suicide attempt yet here i am doing a pancake stretch and ommm-ing every morning. i keep as busy as i can, today i went through every single thing i own to sort donations and the day before i deep cleaned. there is a box wrapped in a blanket of some of the things that remind me of them. i went through it today and brought out some things like the books theyve given me, it doesnt hurt as much anymore to remember. im donating the mugs i never gave them and the one theyd use at my house when theyd come over. all their letters havent been reread yet sit in between the photo of us in the cave. it was nice to see. i am so honored they let me, of all people, share these experiences with them. i am more thankful it happened then miserable itll never happen again; at least i had it for a while. i say this yet if a year passes and i hear from them, i would love to reconnect: hear how their life has been, what they've been doing, how their family is and if they are doing better. if this has helped. while for 6 years i believed they were really it for me, whether we ever dated or not ive always considered them the only one who Really Knew who i was, how i worked, you name it. although im "moving on" by taking care of myself more, it is upsetting to admit if i ever have a chance again, id take it in a heartbeat. i say this yet still believe Even if i do never get a chance, that's okay too. While i would, i dont anticipate it, rely on it, sit in denial "theyll surely come back," its alright if they never do. i live each day as if they never will yet to my core do know that i would try again

a knee ways .. i hope you, whoever reads, is doing okay, that you feel alright and what not. you dont have to feel good every day, but at the least alright i hope ... not sure if/when ill come back maybe just once a month im unsure yet .was just in a solid enough state to do this for a moment . wish you all well ,

[fangirleaconmigo]

I’m struggling tonight, friends.

Tw: death, suicide, loss of friend, homophobia

Last night a friend of mine posted a tiktok saying she was “out”, blowing the camera a kiss.

I did not understand until today that this was her suicide “note” and that she was dead, until her mother and brother posted on Facebook today.

I’m so heartbroken. She was such a kind person. She had severe chronic pain, so she was too disabled to work, and on her “good” (just meant she could move around) pain days she’d organize in the community to serve and feed the unhoused. She had regular sandwich days where we’d make food and drive around giving it to people. She organized the businesses to put these flyers up with logos so people who were homeless knew they could go on and get coffee and food.

She didn’t do these things for her resume or to get into school or something. She was already well past college and could not work. She just did it because she cared about people and she thought someone should do it.

She was so divise in town. So many people LOATHED her because she was “encouraging” homeless people to come to our town. People literally want you to arrest poor people on sight. And people harassed her all the time for it. But she fought for what she believed in. She’d go to city hall and city council meetings to fight for housing to be built and for the cops to stop hassling people.

I live in a small right wing mostly evangelical town where almost 70% of them voted for trump. So let me tell you that people either loved her (like I did) or LOATHED her.

Then to top it all off, she was lesbian. An extremely tall, butch lesbian. So when people couldn’t get her to stop helping homeless folks they’d be vile and homophobic. And I know it hurt her so badly. She just wanted for people to see that she was a good person, not the degenerate they would accuse her of being. She loved people and she just wanted them to like her too, or at least to dislike her for fair reasons.

When I first met her about ten years ago, I advised her to be careful with the people in town she was calling her friends. She was new to town, but I grew up here and am queer myself and knew all too well. I told her that these people were homophobic.

She was SO CONVINCED that she could just love the bigotry out of them. That she could just be caring and funny and be a good person and that would change them.

I watched her become slowly disillusioned when she realized that was not how it worked. People would smile to her face but turn on her fast.

We had a float in the Christmas parade for our volunteer group and her wife chose the theme of Up (the sweet Disney movie) and so we invited the scouts to ride the float with us in keeping with the theme of the movie.

So this local asshole woman posted on Facebook that my friend was trying to recruit kids to the gay agenda and warned everyone to avoid her and not go to the parade. She implied she was gonna molest these kids and make them all gay???

I don’t really know why I’m telling you guys all this. I guess I’m just angry. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that kindness isn’t valued in this world. It’s not fair that people are shit and homophobic. It’s not fair that someone who was so fucking compassionate and empathetic and sensitive was dealt such a shit hand with her chronic pain.

I guess I just want people to know about her.

And I’m so broken hearted and for some reason I want to go kick everyone’s ass who was ever mean to her and I don’t know how that would help. She got sick of this town and moved away. She moved somewhere better.

But she still had so much pain. Her chronic pain was not helped by successive operations and hope was in short supply. Plus, she had been through so much trauma emotionally. She was raised a Mormon and had spent many self loathing years in the closet after the trauma of being raised to believe she was an abomination. (I’m not sharing anything private by saying that, she did a few interviews and essays on the subject, so it’s public record)

And now she’s gone. And now I hurt all over and I can’t stop crying.

Why is it the people who feel everything have to suffer the most, while the assholes of the world who bully gay people and who treat homeless people like crap sleep like logs at night. Why are good people taught to hate themselves because of their gender presentation and sexuality. Why is so much shame and pain heaped on people for being fucking born. And all in the name of god.

I’m just so angry. I’m just so sad.

I try to keep it light on social media as much as possible but my heart is just broken right now. I’m watching her goodbye video as well as the “it gets better” video she did years ago before the illness and I’m just aching.

Anyway. Here is me and my friend at the Christmas parade. We still had a great time in spite of the fucking haters. I organized a cheering section for her and it was loud as hell when we walked by.

I loved her. She was lovable. And I wish she was still here. But I’m glad she’s not in pain anymore.

[lovesthecure]

God, I'm stressed.

The puppy we're trying to get might've been a scam? His mother is the one in touch with them, and she hasn't updated us since last night. They kept piling on more costs, the puppy itself was only supposed to be 600. After promising us he'd be here soon, they keep piling on more...? Feels fishy as shit. I hope it isn't.

My step dad decided to go get laid, and not update me. No "okay, I'm leaving now" or anything. Ghosted me for an entire day, and then told me to somehow cook dinner faster. We had to clear out of the living area by the time he was done showering after he got home. Ignored my messages about needing soap and groceries. Didn't even feed or walk the dog.

I'm having dreams about my egg donor again. They say that when you dream of someone, it means they're thinking about you. I'd rather she didn't.

There's a potential client who just isn't getting back to me. I'm trying to not be pushy, but if I should save a slot for them... I kind of need to know that. Is that 80$ I should budget into things, or not?

I think "the ps5 incident" genuinely left something on top of the Christmas Trauma Pile. I keep sitting here convinced he's going to ignore the list to get something for himself again. My whole childhood I was bad at wanting things, and now that I finally want things: he ignores it for something he wanted. Ignores it for that. Maybe I just have a low opinion of the man, but I don't put it past him to do two years in a row.

His cat allergies didn't react to his crush's longhair cats. I doubt he even has the allergies--he spent a week with my grandparent's shorthairs with no trouble at all. Either way, apparently I can get a kitten now. It just has to be a longhair. He's not that conspiratorial, but I keep wondering if that's somehow a trap. Like he knows the grooming costs would be too high, aside from me grooming the cat myself. He's not that smart though. He just knows he's run out of excuses to say I can't have a cat, and can't be bothered to just say "no."

We can't move out fast enough, it feels. Then it's not his decision.

I have to sit at a table and play DND with him next week. I have to not complain and just keep playing. I'm glad his character is so interested in other characters that aren't mine. It means I can focus elsewhere too.

I hate that I can't complain. I have to sit there, complacent. I'm a doll waiting to have the string pulled, to go "it's fine," and be set back on the shelf. Maybe I'd feel less like that if he even attempted to put time into me. He couldn't even watch episode 1 of a show with me. He doesn't invite me on streams anymore. As much as I wouldn't want to be there anyway, it stings a little. My usefulness has been outlived.

But not really. He can feel like he "provides" for me. My mother-in-law worries all the time that he drinks more out of stress. That maybe he's stressed caring for my husband and I. Maybe if I had the energy I'd tell her how much he actively impedes me making progress as an adult. Either on purpose, accidentally, or sub-consciously. I'm 21. I don't even have an ID to bring to a restaurant to prove it. With no car or stable income of my own... I have to rely on him. What a fucking joke that is.

He's been neglecting me to some level since 16, but hey. At least he doesn't do half the shit my egg donor or grandmother did, huh?

Once the basement is done, my mother-in-law is letting us move in there. It'd be impossible to get a place of our own, even if my husband and I both worked full-time. Manageable rent from her, as she helps us get off our feet. I'm terrified. Almost as scared as I'd been waiting 2 ~ 3 years for my step father to update me on if I was even going to see a doctor or not for numerous health issues plaguing me. Almost.

It's just slightly easier.

At least it means things will go somewhere.

At least there, I will not stagnate the way I've been forced to here.

I feel kind of like a prisoner.

[motownfiction]

gloom

Charlie’s had enough of the gloom.

Unfortunately, it seems like it’s going to follow him around forever. That’s what happens when you make as many shitty decisions as he has since Christmas in ‘02. Getting drunk before Sadie’s Christmas Eve dinner (which he wasn’t invited to). Fucking up his marriage with Carrie (regardless of how it’s turning out). Fucking Elenore O’Connor at the kitchen table in her parents’ apartment (when she wasn’t even officially twenty). Fucking Steph Armstrong in a motel room after Daniel punched him in the face (and made him bleed). Getting Elenore pregnant. Getting Carrie pregnant. Maybe on the same day.

That’s what Charlie’s life is now. He just walks around and summarizes all the different shitty things he’s done, all the different shitty things that have happened to him. In a different timeline, maybe it would have been full of love, laughter, and music, but that’s not how it is. Instead, his big brother is dead (because of him), and he hasn’t been able to recover. None of them have. It’s just that he’s the worst at it. He’s the man with the world’s thinnest skin.

Sam always had a pretty thick skin, though. That’s why he’s here tonight, at Scrambled Eggs, looking for his guidance.

It’s been about two years since Charlie spent any time back home. It hasn’t been high on his list of priorities, especially after last time (with Daniel punching him in the face on Christmas Eve). By now, though, he understands that Sam wouldn’t be hanging out in a cemetery. He’d be here. At Scrambled Eggs. The store he poured his heart and soul into as he slid into his thirtieth birthday.

He heard something about how Steph bought the store. Rocky mentioned it to Carrie, who mentioned it to Charlie. Apparently, a couple years earlier, something happened that made her really want to whip her life into shape. Charlie’s pretty sure he had something to do with that, but he’s not sure if he should be proud or ashamed.

She’s probably not here right now. That is, if she were, Charlie’s pretty sure she would kick him out. But it’s been six whole minutes, and he’s still inside, fending off the December chill. He thumbs through some records, recognizing them but not paying attention. His hands shake with each flip.

There are footsteps coming near him. Then, a heavy shadow. He glances over his shoulder and gulps. He should have known better.

There’s Steph, standing right beside him. The look on her face is so stern, so frightening, so intense that he almost misses her gigantic pregnant belly. Quickly, he tries to do the math. Could he be the father of this baby, too? No. Been too long.

Also been too long for him to stand here without saying anything.

“Steph,” he says, almost like he’s trying to confirm whether she’s really there.

“Charlie,” Steph says.

“Am I … am I allowed here?”

Steph smiles a little bit.

“I’ve been upstairs trying to figure that out myself,” she says.

“Oh. Where have you landed?”

“Jury is still out. I wanted to talk to you.”

Charlie nods. He looks back down at Steph’s belly.

“Congratulations,” he says. “Right?”

“Yes.”

“Who … I mean, are you …?”

“No. Wait, do you seriously not know?”

“I guess not.”

“Oh, man. I didn’t realize just how much Sadie and Daniel were keeping you out of the loop. I mean, we know all about Veronica and Cal, but you don’t know about my baby.”

“This one’s not mine, too, is it?”

Steph rolls her eyes.

“It’s Sam’s.”

Charlie furrows his brow.

“Steph, I don’t know how to tell you this,” he says, “but that’s even less possible than me being the father here.”

“Science, Charlie. Sperm samples. Your brother froze a couple of his when he was trying to make money to open this place. That’s part of why I bought the store. I didn’t want … I didn’t want any of his legacy to go to waste. In any form.”

Charlie nods. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to him, and he can’t believe he never knew Sam froze his sperm for money when he was alive. Then again, there were probably a lot of things Sam didn’t tell him. There were probably a lot of things he didn’t deserve to know.

“Oh,” he says.

He sounds so fucking stupid.

“It’s a girl,” Steph says. “I don’t really know why I’m telling you that. It’s just … look, even with everything, she’s still going to be your niece. And since she’s my daughter, I just … I think you should know. Even if you don’t want anything to do with …”

“I want plenty to do with,” Charlie says, and he hopes that’s true.

“OK.”

He turns back to the records. He wonders how many of these things have been in here since Sam opened the store almost ten years earlier. He wonders how much of his brother seeped into these panels, these walls. Apart from the art and clothes Steph has in here now, it barely looks different than the day it first opened. Yes. If Sam is anywhere, it’s here. Always here.

“Hey, Steph?”

“What?”

“Can you recommend me something?”

Steph snorts.

“What, like, music?”

“Yes, like, music. I want something to listen to while I’m here.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be. Yes, I’m alone, and no, I don’t want or need anyone to come and be with me. I’m just here. The TV isn’t enough. I need some music. So, please. Come on. Take a look at me, and recommend me something. It’s what Sam would have done.”

Steph’s hand goes to her belly–the part of her with the most Sam in it today. It’s like she knows she’d be disappointing their daughter if she didn’t follow through with Charlie. She sighs and goes through some of the records. About two minutes later, she has something.

“There,” Steph says. “Audioslave. Self-titled. You probably know it.”

“A little,” Charlie says. “I know ‘Like a Stone.’ Why this?”

Steph shrugs.

“I listened to it a lot after your brother died,” she says. “I don’t know–I just think it would be helpful to know what someone else was feeling.”

Charlie nods. He understands the perfect significance of what Steph is saying, but he wishes he didn’t.

“How much?”

Steph laughs.

“Charlie, it’s free.”

So, Charlie laughs, too. He doesn’t deserve a free record, especially not from Steph. But then, the record isn’t really from Steph.

Sam has always been giving him a free ride.

[overthinkingkdrama]

Jona's Top 10 Dramas of 2021

Hello and welcome back. I'm as surprised as you are that this got done before the end of January.

It was really hard for me to identify a favorite of 2021. There were a lot of dramas that I enjoyed, but very few that distinguished themselves as new and indispensable favorites. 2021 was kind of a weird year for dramas. The landscape looks quite a bit different than it did in 2020. It's the year of Squid Game and streaming service originals. And not just the sort that aired on a cable stations and then Netflix slapped a logo on them.

Also, I know I said in the last list that my rule for what makes a 2021 drama is that it had to finish airing in 2021, and I'm immediately going to break that rule because (spoiler alert) The Red Sleeve is on this list. But I'm pretty sure that drama finished airing on New Year's Day just to annoy me, and if I don't go ahead and put it on this list and review it then there's a high likelihood it's never going to make it on a list at all. And I want to talk about so...

Alright, let's get back into it.

10. The Silent Sea

I was looking forward to The Silent Sea long before Squid Game was a twinkle in the public consciousness. It's not hard to understand why that is. Getting to see Bae Doo Na and Gong Yoo acting head to head in a high budget spaced-based thriller with (presumably) a nice dose of eerie horror was too delicious a prospect to pass up.

And yet, in the aftermath of the unexpected cult status of Squid Game, Silent Sea was almost inevitably going to hit differently and invite all kinds of narrow comparisons from Western commentators who have next no familiarity with either the actors involved or the state of Korean television over the past 3 years. Needless to say it was frustrating to see.

And yet, I spent my Christmas (snowed in with my parents) watching Silent Sea between bouts of food prep, and generally enjoying myself very much. It gave me the very briefest of glimpses of what it felt like to watch something completely isolated from public discourse, and a sense of warm, cozy isolation to contrast with the cold and inhospitable isolation of the characters. It was definitely the ideal watching situation.

In a better year for dramas, or even in a year where I got more watched than I did in 2021, The Silent Sea would probably not have made it to this list. It's a little bit too long for what it's trying to do (it probably would have worked better as a movie than a short run series) and ended up having to rely heavily on repeated flashbacks and quiet scenes that lasted far too long to pad out the run time. But the cast is exceptional, the plot was surprising in the right measure, and they managed to pull off the brand of space horror they were going for. It works well as a short binge.

9. Move to Heaven

Move to Heaven is the second Netflix exclusive drama on this list, and from what I could tell was generally well received by the fandom, with a overwhelmingly positive rating on MDL. I loved it as a meditation on family and mortality, and overall enjoyed the episodic format focused on getting to know the essential characters of the departed through the objects that they left behind.

The central conceit of a trauma cleaning service is very strong on its own, and adding on top of that a story of bonding between Le Je Hoon's Cho Sang Gu stepping in as the reluctant care-taker of the neurodivergent Gue Ru, after Gue Ru's father (Sang Gu's brother) suddenly passes away, the drama was well positioned to become an instant favorite for lovers of heartfelt, sentimental slice-of-life.

The highlight of the show for me was the gradual bonding of the highly intelligent and sensitive nephew and his ratty trash uncle. Lee Je Hoon is as usual wildly charismatic, and could probably have carried the whole show on his back if he wanted to. His character is also complex, comedic, absurd, and flawed in a way that made him a joy to watch.

Unfortunately, and the reason that MtH is showing up so low on my list, the show doesn't manage to balance all of its elements consistently throughout the run and the pacing becomes strained in the last leg. Very unnaturally, as though the drama was originally written as a limited run series and the potential for multiple seasons opened up very late in the creative process, the last episode almost feels like it is a part of a different show. It loses its urgency and grounded feeling, and the last moments blatantly pitching for a second season feel awkward and tonally dissonant.

8. The Devil Judge

Although I often asked for and even enjoy artful, naturalistic dramas with true-to-life human stories, deep down, if I'm honest with myself, what I really want is something absolutely bonkers that keeps me coming back to it week after week. I'll admit that I groaned inwardly when I saw that Ji Sung had signed on to play a judge. Yet another dry drama about the legal system, I thought to myself. And I decided that I probably wouldn't watch it. But gradually, as more posters and teasers were released for The Devil Judge I began to realize that what we were dealing with was a different breed of drama entirely.

The Devil Judge portrays a near-future dystopian Korea, trying to claw its way back from a deadly virus outbreak and widespread economic devastation. I don't blame anyone for tensing up immediately upon reading that description. It definitely hits a little too close to home. But the beauty of Devil Judge is the way it grabs that disquietingly familiar premise with both arms and runs sprinting with it off a cliff:

In order to combat what he sees as rampant unchecked injustice and return the power to punish evildoers to the disenfranchised populous, vigilante judge Kang Yo Han conceives and executes a real life courtroom drama by way of reality show. In Yo Han's court people can vote on the verdict through an app and the draconian sentence is then carried out for the enjoyment of the viewing public. It's crackerjack television, with every trial full of twists and turns each more lurid and sensational than the last.

Kang Yo Han fills the role of a sort of amoral Batman, complete with creepily vacant gothic mansion, disguised nighttime excursions to rain down kung fu justice on unsuspecting ne're-do-wells, and cat-and-mouse games with an extensive cast of larger-than-life comic book villains. And I'm not even really scratching the surface of the plot of this drama. Such as his extensive flirtation with junior judge Kim Ga On, his tragic backstory involving a church that was just begging to burn down, or the vast conspiracy of murder and political corruption he's attempting to dismantle. You're just going to have to watch it for yourself.

7. Dali and Gamjatang

I don't know that I'm particularly hard on romcoms, but I certainly seem to have a hard time finding romcoms that will hold my attention through the entire run. Perhaps it's because there are so many elements that have to be working in concert for me to remain invested. I need to like the leads and want to see them together, but I also need there to be adequate conflict not to get bored. All fluff and cuteness doesn't cut the mustard. That being said, if you dial up the angst and the miscommunication too high, there's always the risk of my losing sympathy with the characters and wandering off. I think the romcom is a deceptively simple genre. It's really easy to screw up the balance.

Luckily for me Dali and Gamjatang (or Dali and Cocky Prince) seems to have been written by someone who has opinions about romcoms just as strong or stronger than mine. It watches like the writer cut her teeth watching chaebol romances. The show is definitely a chaebol romance, but it also feels like a light critique of the genre. Both the leads start out the show as wealthy heirs (new money and old) and yet they are genuinely kind and likable individuals. The drama continually plays with class dynamics. Even the second male lead, played by Kwon Yool, feels like a pointed criticism of everything that makes jerk-ass chaebol leads detestable with all the paternalism and entitlement that entails. Every time I thought this drama was going to zig it zagged. Subverting my expectations once or twice is one thing, but managing to surprise me pleasantly throughout is something I always hope for and rarely get.

All that isn't to paint Dali and Gamjatang as some kind of highly intellectual exercise that you have to push your glasses down to the very end of your nose to enjoy. Mostly Dali is a sweet and hilarious romp, with both Kim Min Jae and Park Gyu Young showing a lot of appeal, chemistry and comedic versatility. I've had my eye on Gyu Young since It's Okay to Not Be Okay, but between Dali and Devil Judge it's clear that she's one to watch. Kim Min Jae, for his part, has clearly entered his leading man epoch. And there was much rejoicing.

6. Mr. Queen

To my great chagrin, I've been aware of Shin Hye Sun for some time now--I've watched large swath of her filmography almost by accident--but I've never really fallen in love with her until recently. It's not that I wasn't impressed with her. It was impossible not to be impressed with her when she's played a character like Young Eun Soo in the first season of Stranger or carried the heavy and heartbreaking Hymn of Death. But I suppose she really hadn't made her presence felt as one of my all time favorite female leads, simply because she hadn't yet made a drama that hit the exact intersection of my interests.

And then Mr. Queen came along, and I was justly clobbered for my oversight.

Mr. Queen is both a time-slip drama and a gender bender. It's a rollicking comedy and a fusion sageuk with some legitimately heavy elements. It is the story of Jang Bong Hwan, chef to the Blue House and incorrigible fuckboy, who falls off his apartment balcony into a swimming pool and wakes up to his ample horror in the Joseon era in the body of the queen.

Shin Hye Sun is legitimately so good in her dual role as both original-recipe Queen So Yong and extra crispy Bong Hwan that it really doesn't do to try to describe it. You just have to watch it for yourself. She embodies the role with so much energy, range and physical comedy it elevates the whole show. Kim Jung Hyun makes a wonderful counterpart as the hapless himbo, King Cheol Jong, and they have phenomenal chemistry both romantically and comedically, but Shin Hye Sun owns this drama.

It actually breaks my heart to have to put the drama down this low on the list, because up until the last episode it was on track to become an all time favorite of mine. But unfortunately I had to rate the show down dramatically because of the hasty and plot-hole-making no-homo ending the show runners pulled out in the 11th hour. Up until that point the sexual dynamics of this drama were as daring as they were irreverent. I guess tvN wasn't ready to stand by that. I'm not particularly surprised but I am bitterly disappointed nonetheless.

If you choose to watch the drama anyway, I recommend watching only the first 19 episodes and choosing to pretend--as I do--that for some reason those were the only episodes that made it to air.

5. Navillera

It feels like Song Kang has been nearly inescapable the last couple of years. Especially if you're watching dramas on Netflix, because he seems to be in every third one. I'm fairly indifferent to his meteoric rise. I neither stan nor dislike him. Whether or not you have an overall positive impression of him and his abilities probably largely depends on what you've seen him in. Personally, I quite enjoyed Sweet Home and was excited to see more of him after finishing it. I dropped Nevertheless--a drama which holds the dubious distinction of both making my skin crawl and boring me out of my skull--rather later than I should have trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

But if you've managed to avoid him so far and you really want to see what Song Kang can do for you, then may I suggest you check out Navillera. Navillera is one of those "healing human dramas" that you watch when you're in the mood to cry a lot and have your heart warmed within an inch of your life. It follows the journey of Shim Deok Chul, a 70-year-old retiree who decides it's not too late for him to pursue his life long dream of dancing ballet on stage, and the grumpy 23-year-old ballerino with a hard home life who reluctantly ends up teaching him to dance.

A lot of people probably came into this show because of Song Kang's involvement, but undoubtedly Park In Hwan as Deok Chul is the star of the show. As soon as I saw harabeoji watching a performance of Swan Lake with such rapture and shining eyes, all I wanted was to for him learn to dance and achieve his dream. For me this drama was just comfort food for the soul, and I really enjoyed it and the whole extended cast.

4. The Red Sleeve

Since I finished The Red Sleeve earlier this month, I've been trying hard articulate my feelings about it. Every time I approach it, I feel like I can't quite get my arms around them, forget distilling them into a few pithy paragraphs for this list.

I'll start with the easy stuff: Lee Jun Ho and Lee Se Young could not have been more perfect. I've talked about it a bit elsewhere, but I genuinely think they left nothing that could be improved on here. This is one of those dramas where a lot is left unsaid, and must be conveyed through the nuance of the actors' performances alone. I can't think of anyone who could have pulled that off better than these two. The Red Sleeve is also a lot of what I want in a sageuk. A drama that focuses on the intricacies of palace life for the servant class, specifically for the ladies of the court. A drama that gives me big emotions, high stakes, messy feelings and no easy answers.

The Red Sleeve is also one of those shows that made me tremendously uncomfortable. In this case I don't mean that as a criticism. If anything it is one of the highest compliments I can pay it. But for the second half of this show, at least for me, this wasn't exactly an enjoyable watch. It left me conflicted and torn up my heart. San, while sympathetic and humanely portrayed by Jun Ho, was profoundly unlikable at times. Despite the seeming inevitability of their connection and their end, I frequently wished for Deok Im to run as far away from him as she could get and never look back.

This drama, overtly and subtextually, interrogates ideas of power and consent. It poses the question of whether consent is ever really possible, even between two people who love each other, when one party doesn't have the personal autonomy to say no. It draws into question the very possibility of love without freedom and what kind of responsibilities we have to ourselves above and in spite of the love we might feel for another person. It examines what types of freedom, of self-determination, can exist in a master-servant relationship. What it means to give yourself to someone. What it means to belong to someone, and what it means to belong to yourself.

I found it disquieting, thoughtful, and highly worth the watch.

3. Lost (aka Human Disqualification)

Rarely have I descended into such paroxysms of undignified fangirlish glee the way I did when Ryu Jun Yeol's return to dramaland was announced. After Lucky Romance I feared we had lost him to Chungmuro forever (and if you saw Lucky Romance then you know it was no more than we deserved). But no! He was coming back, and not only that he was coming back to make a human melodrama involving a older-woman-younger-man dynamic, i.e. catnip for this particular masochist right here.

Then the drama came out and nobody watched it.

Alright, that's not true. A lot of people in my little twitter circle and people who I was aware of through tumblr not only watched it but appreciated the drama for what it was. There were also plenty of people who found it unutterably boring. And the ratings in Korea definitely reflect that people had no idea what to do with this show.

And even as much as I loved Lost (as evidenced by how high on this list it is) there is probably a pretty narrow set of people I would recommend it to. This drama is the slowest of burns. If this drama was a burner on your stove, you could put the kettle on and leave the house on a trip over the weekend, and by the time you got back the water wouldn't even be simmering. I'll even admit that my bruised and battered attention span didn't always stand up to the test and there were times when I watched it at 1.5x speed. You may or may not believe this but it's the truth: As I watched Lost I was often impatient but I was never bored.

Believe me when I say this drama was absolutely worth the wait. Lost is an intimate mediation on death, grief, and feeling adrift in your life, and it's restrained-to-the-point-of-pain style is suited perfectly to its tone and themes. This drama is dripping with an otherworldly agony. It captures the very essence of yearning, punctuated throughout with soul-bearing monologues from the characters. As for the actual plot, it gradually unfolds as an ever widening circle of character studies, continuing to reveal hidden depths until the very last episode. One of the most rewarding and unique dramas I've watched in several years.

2. D. P.

I say this as if anyone was waiting for me to weigh in on which Netflix original drama came out on top as the best of the year: for me nothing even touches D.P. Something made all the more remarkable by how short the drama was, at just 6 episodes all clocking in at under an hour runtime. A bit like a car accident. It was all over so fast and yet I'm going to be feeling it in my bones for years to come.

D.P. focuses on the culture of abuse and corruption present within the South Korean military. It follows Jung Hae In as Ahn Joon Ho, a typical young man trying to keep his head down and get through his mandatory military service when he gets pressganged into a special unit responsible for hunting down and dragging back deserters. It portrays the stories of the various deserters Joon Ho and his partner Ho Yul, played by Koo Kyo Hwan, have to track down with a combination of brutal honesty and pitch black comedy. The tone of D.P. is really fascinating. It doesn't flinch away from the genuine trauma and tragedy endemic to the story, but at times it seems to verge on satire, portraying the higher ups and antagonists as both ghoulish and absurd. Watching it reminded me a bit of reading Catch 22.

It's my understanding that the show has already been renewed for a second season, and I will mostly likely watch that when it comes out but unlike dramas such as Move to Heaven and Sweet Home where the pitch for the second season is ham-handedly baked into the last episode, D.P. watches seamlessly as a stand alone series. This is a show I would readily recommend to people who aren't even interested in Korean television at large. Despite some intensely triggering material (and please, do your research ahead of time if you're sensitive to that kind of thing) I think this drama is that good and that universal.

1. Beyond Evil

The Kdrama equivalent of "you had me at hello" seems to be a damn sexy poster. When I first saw the posters they'd released for Beyond Evil I clearly remember thinking to myself, "if this show is half as good as these posters I'm going to be in serious trouble." And I was indeed in trouble.

If you've been hanging around on this blog very long this pick probably won't surprise you very much. There's a cocktail of plot elements that I find nearly irresistible in crime dramas. Beyond Evil has it all. A compelling cast of suspects, a terrifying monster, ambiguous motives, obsession, psychopathy, trauma, and a healthy dash of homoeroticism.

I wrestled with myself as to whether to give the top spot on this list to Beyond Evil or D.P. because I don't necessarily think that one is better than the other. Ultimately it came down to my own personal affinity for the drama and the characters, which is why Beyond Evil won out.

Beyond Evil has a wonderfully twisty plot that continued to surprise and misdirect through out the run, even when I thought for sure the story was going to lose steam. It's masterful mystery writing, which would have been enough for me to recommend it. But what elevates the drama is really the dynamic between Dong Shik and Joo Won. Shin Ha Kyun and Yeo Jin Goo generate so much electricity and breathless intensity between their characters, and the clever scripting helps to escalate that relationship into a thrilling and satisfying denouement. Shin Ha Kyun, in particular, just kept demonstrating, episode after episode, scene after scene, the difference a truly exceptional actor can make to a watching experience. Something preternatural happens when he's on screen, there's no other way to put it. Add on top of that an incredible extended cast without a bad performance in the bunch, and you've got something really special.

***

And with that, I conclude my lists for 2020 and 2021. I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them (maybe even a little more than that). I'm still doing quite a bit of writing on personal projects. I'm working on another round of rewrites for my novel, which has to take priority for me. But if I have the ability to be a little more present on this blog, I'm going to endeavor to do so. If you want to hear some occasional ramblings from me outside of this blog, though, think about giving me a follow on @outofmeasure on Twitter.

Until I see you again, please stay safe and try to have fun out there.

Jona

[startanewdream]

"Wish I'd left it there"

Hinny's first kiss in the movies really annoys me, but the script had a line about them talking about Tom Riddle's diary that was actually good (and missed in the books). I thought about that scene after seeing a giftset and then I just started writing a few words about a possible conversation between Harry and Ginny, the night before the Final Quidditch Match (aka the day before they kiss).

Hope it makes some sense!

There is a miserable look on Harry’s eyes that feels strangely familiar to Ginny. It is not that he doesn’t have any reason to be upset on this day; it is the evening of the final Quidditch match, Harry won’t play, he has weeks of detention ahead and he got scared after being involved with a dark art spell.

But the look on his eyes as he stares at the book on his hand - that is not related to any of these reasons.

She is not really surprised when she sees what book he is holding. The potions handbook that she knows was borrowed hurriedly at the library that morning, before Slughorn’s class. After all, Harry hid his original book the day before.

The Half-Blood Prince’s book.

The book that taught him many spells and gave him many tips, a book that Harry treated like an old friend, until… until the book betrayed him. That’s a feeling Ginny knows too well.

She remembers how it was after Christmas in her First Year, when she threw away Tom Riddle’s diary; she tried to get another book to replace it, a place where she could safely put her thoughts. She even wrote a few words, but it wasn’t the same.

Ginny remembers feeling betrayed by the diary, by what it made her do, and yet missing it like a part of herself. That’s the expression on Harry’s face.

He is alone on the couch in front of the fire. Ginny tells herself that she shouldn’t do anything - Ron and Hermione are probably more suited to talk to him, she has a few notes to study or she should even be sleeping before the last match -, but instead she finds herself drawn to Harry's side, sitting next to him.

‘Hey’, she tells and he jumps, his face colouring as it happens lately when she is near. Harry smiles, though it is more of a grimace, and Ginny tries not to let it bother her.

Before yesterday, before he casted that curse, Ginny could swear there was something happening between her and Harry - a sort of dance where they were getting closer and closer, almost touching and recoiling at the last moment, both of them waiting for the right signal to... to it happen. But ever since that story with the dark spell, Harry had withdrawn, avoiding to look at her as if he had let her down somehow, and Ginny had seen the shadow on his eyes as he talked about Dean rejoining the team.

Ginny doesn't really hate that half-blood prince for writing down a nasty spell, but she surely hates him for making Harry miserable. No book should have that power.

‘Hi’, he answers, a little late. ‘Thought you were sleeping already’.

‘Before the match? Too nervous’. She tries to grin, hoping it might infect him a little. ‘I was actually studying History of Magic’.

There is a faint amusement in his eyes now. ‘Wow’.

‘Yeah, I thought, it may make me sleepy or I might actually learn something. Win-win in any case’.

‘Sleepy is better’.

‘And there goes my attempt to get nine OWLS’.

‘Why nine?’

‘It’s more than Ron got. I hope it’s enough to ease Mom since I didn’t get the prefect badge’.

‘Who would want to be prefect?’

‘Not me - imagine being on rounds in a perfect nice Friday night?’, she asks, still light, and Harry looks around briefly, as if he only now realizes what was on Ginny’s mind for a while. They are nearly the last ones in the Common Room.

‘Oh’. Harry bits his lips, the pink in his skin now reaching his neck as the corners of his lips lift up. ‘It’s a nice night’.

And then, finally, Harry is looking at her as he does these days - eyes sparkling, nervous and excited at the same time, his gaze falling to her lips as if he feels drawn to it, before his eyes move to take in her face, every little detail, as if he was tasked to memorize it.

By the amount of time Ginny has caught him staring at her lately, she thinks he could draw her face if he wants to.

‘Ginny’, he whispers tentatively, and her lips part, tongue wettening them almost involuntarily; Harry’s eyes watch that movement and now there is fire on them. ‘I -’

But his words are cut when there is a heavy thump and they look down at the same time to watch the potions handbook opened on the floor. There are only the author’s writings on them; no words scribbled on the pages.

Harry backs away, his face troubled now. Ginny knows she ought to go away too, to give Harry an awkward smile and acknowledge that their moment is over, but she stays.

As easy as it feels when she is around him, it wasn’t to flirt that she went to talk to him in the first place.

‘It is not your fault’, she tells him bluntly. Harry eyes her warily.

‘I casted the spell. I won’t try to -’

‘I meant to trust him. That Prince guy’.

‘Oh’. He looks at the book on his hand. ‘Dunno. I feel stupid’.

‘For trusting a book that ended up disappointing you?’, she asks, inviting him to join her weird joke. Harry blushes, looking strangely flustered about what she is saying.

‘It is not like that, the diary was… truly evil’.

It seems like there is more he wants to say, but Harry looks away.

Ginny shrugs. ‘I know it was evil. Even then, even before I knew to whom it belonged, I knew it was evil and still… I missed it a lot. I tried to get rid of it twice, you know?’

Harry shakes his head. ‘I know about that time you threw it away in Moaning Myrtle’s toilet’.

She gives a reluctant laugh. ‘Not by best moment’, she acknowledges. Harry almost smiles. ‘Before that, before Christmas, I tried to hide in the same place you did. The Room of Requirement, though I didn’t know then what it was. Wish I’d left it forever’.

‘Oh. I never knew’.

‘Yeah, and I spent all holiday Christmas missing it like hell. I was miserable. I thought about it all the time. I would get angry when I saw other books, because it wasn’t the one I wanted’. She pauses. ‘No wonder I took it back first thing’.

Harry looks sheepishly, understanding what she means. ‘I won’t take it back’, he whispers. ‘Not just because of Snape finding out, I just - I just don’t want it right now’.

‘He betrayed you’, she summarizes. Harry startles as if he didn’t think about it in those terms before. ‘I think you should leave it there for a while. Try to forget it. Don't get too attached to it’.

‘Clean myself out of it?’

‘You are not tainted’, she says. Not like she was, she thinks.

Harry’s eyes are hard now, fierce. ‘Neither are you’, he tells her. ‘That diary… his soul… there is nothing of him on you. You are bright and powerful in a way Voldemort could never be’.

She should shudder at the name, but with the way Harry says it, with the resolution in his eyes that leave no room for her self-doubt, Ginny doesn’t fear Voldemort. Harry may have spoken about her brightness, but she thinks his lightness is powerful too, much stronger than the shadow of Voldemort’s name.

‘You can love’, he adds, his voice tender now, and though Ginny can think of a lot of people that she loves - her family, her friends -, she thinks of another type of love, one that she hopes to share with someone someday.

Not anyone. Maybe a special someone, she thinks, admiring the green in his eyes.

‘You can too’, she whispers back. There is a flash of surprise on his eyes, and Ginny wonders if Harry ever heard that he is loved; if he remembers it. But she doesn’t doubt that he can love and he knows it; he is too compassionate to not feel love.

And she wonders if he ever thinks of sharing a different kind of love with someone too.

But for now, she just picks up the book on the floor and gives it back to him.

‘It is just a book’, she says, raising.

Harry nods. ‘Just a stupid book’, he agrees.

‘I’m gonna sleep now - good night, Harry’.

‘Good night’. There is a pause. ‘Catch the snitch tomorrow, yes?’

‘I will wait for you with the snitch on my hand’, she promises him, giving him a small smile. ‘It’s a promise’.

Something flickers in Harry’s eyes, a faint glint of hope that makes Ginny think that tomorrow might be better. Tomorrow might be the day where their dance change tunes. ‘I’ll be waiting’.

[salemwolfgang]

The Bed

Request: “‘There’s only 1 bed” Hannibal & Will obsessed with a fem reader.”

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Will Graham

Warning(s): Smut, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Slight Dom and Sub Tones, Spitting, Blow Jobs, and So So Soooo Much Fluff

A/N: It’s not as long as I originally intended but I’ll add more later when I find what I want to add. Also not entire proofread. I did read through it a few times but there could possibly still be mistakes and I’ll happily fix them later lol.

Two weeks ago, during a conversation with Hannibal, you mentioned how tired and stressed work had made you as of late. That following week he surprisingly  invited you on a trip to a cabin that he owned. He said it was further north and he usually went there a couple times throughout the year. You didn’t want to interrupt his free time but he insisted you go. He even said that ‘It would be a relaxing trip and the scenery was quite spectacular’. 

You mentioned the conversation to Will and he stated that the trip was offered to him as well. But he said that he’d only go if you did as well. The two of you decided to tell Hannibal that both of you would be delighted to go and he happily told you that he planned to leave on the fifteenth. 

The rest of the week was spent planning on what you’d pack, meal options, and any necessities that would be needed. When the day arrived you received a text from Will stating he and Hannibal were on their way to pick you up. Despite the cold that nipped at your skin, you decide to wait on your porch.

On the car ride there you ran through your list of items that you all packed twice, just to be sure that you had everything. You knew you had it all but it gave you something to do since you didn’t bring a book and your phone had no service. Hannibal wasn’t much for conversation and Will read a book that you believed was, The Measures Of Madness, which Hannibal had given to him as a gift last Christmas.

When the three of you arrived you all grabbed your luggage and headed into the cabin. Hannibal started making dinner while Will started a fire. You took everyone’s things to the back and went to put them in their rooms until you noticed that there was only one bedroom. 

“Uhh… Hannibal? Can I ask you something?” You asked as you walked back towards the kitchen.

Hannibal looked up from the carrots he was cutting and said,”Yes (Y/N)?”

“Where are the other beds? I tried looking and this place only seems to have one room…”

“Oh yes I must have forgotten. I’ve always come here alone so I never thought to have a cabin with multiple rooms that I didn’t need.” Something in his tone of voice hinted that he wasn’t telling the truth but you didn’t bother to question his response. 

“Okay, I guess I’ll just sleep on the couch.” You muttered. Not realizing that they had booth heard you.

Will said nothing but came out from the living room and walked to the bedroom. 

“Well, (Y/N), the bed seems big enough for the three of us. Why can’t we just share?” Will’s voice yelled out to you. And before you could say anything he added, “Plus the couch seems quite uncomfortable.”

Hannibal sneakily smiled and looked at you waiting for an answer. When nothing came out he said “Yes, it would be a shame if you couldn’t sleep properly while we were on our vacation. You must sleep with us, it seems to be the best option. At least try it for tonight and if you were to become to uncomfortable with it, you can sleep on the couch.”

After continuous bantering amongst the three of you on where you’d sleep, you finally agreed to sleep in the same bed. The two, grown might I add, men both made a small victory dance and you couldn’t help but giggle at their childish behavior. As the three of you ate you conversed about work, how fast the seasons seemed to change, and all recent news. At some point the topic of your love life was brought up. How exactly it came about was unclear to you but it had happened and there was no way out of it. 

“So are you...” Will cleared his throat and then continued, “interested in anyone?” 

You felt yourself begin to choke on your food at the suddenness of this question. When you managed to calm down your face noticeably heated up making the other two aware of your embarrassment. Neither made any remarks about it and waited patiently for your response.

“Well yes and no, it’s more like I’m interested in… multiple people but I highly doubt they’d care to know. I could never see myself possibly being with them, they’re too good for me. And I could never choose between them.”

Your response seemed to noticeably change something within Hannibal and Will. As you glanced up at them you could notice clear disdain on their faces. You frowned immediately afraid they had become disgusted by you and your lack of choosing between two people.

“Who are they? Is it someone from your work? Or possibly a friend of yours?” Will’s rapid fire questions surprised you. His tone let out that he was not angry at you but at whoever your “crushes” were. 

Hannibal reached out under the table and set a hand on your thigh. The grip he had made your stomach flutter and your cheeks felt warmer. He looked you in the eyes and without hesitating said, “You deserve to be cherished by whoever you desire.”

You cleared your throat and opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out. Will stared at you with such an intensity you were afraid he’d burst at any moment. Luckily he didn’t and instead mentioned how late it was getting and that it was about time to ready yourselves for bed.

Hannibal released his grip on your thigh and began to collect his dirtied dishes, Will and yourself followed after him. You insisted that Hannibal was given the first shower since he had made the meal and then it was decided Will would go next and you last. 

As you stood within the shower thoughts of what had occurred over dinner began to make their way back into your head. You felt so embarrassed after what had happened. What if they knew of your crushes and were just teasing you? A new thought quickly made itself known and you caught yourself leading into it. It couldn’t really be true; no, there’s no way… but perhaps they liked you back? 

You had no more time to think of it because soon the water ran cold and you had to exit the shower. Quickly you got dressed and did your usual nightly routine afterwards you headed to your… shared bedroom, the thought still made your mind blank. It was too embarrassing to think about.

When you entered the room you were surprised to find Will fast asleep. You stared at him fondly then turned your gaze upon Hannibal. As expected he was laying with a book in his hand and a small glass of wine next to him. Before you walked any further it dawned upon you that the only available space was between the two men.

Pretending as if it did not bring butterflies to your stomach, you slowly crawled in to the surprisingly soft bed. Having no other option but to rest yourself in a slightly curled position against Hannibal’s side.

Without any warning you felt Will’s hands curl around your waist and his legs move up against yours. You let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden contact but tried to relax. Hannibal then placed as hand onto of your head and began brushing your hair softly with his fingers. You had no words to describe the unexpected bliss you currently felt at the moment.

Hannibal spoke, his tone soft yet authoritative as he whispered, ”You are to remain and belong to us, only us.”

You felt hot breath against your neck as a shockingly awake Will added on to Hannibal’s words. ”Your silly crushes will have to go away, no one else can have you but us.” He then softly kissed your neck and caressed your side.

Their sudden possessiveness made you blush madly. 

Hannibal closed his book then slid himself down slightly so that his face was next to yours. He reached a hand up and placed it on your cheek and caressed your face softly with his thumb. You held your breathe as he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss upon your lips. You couldn’t help but to lean into it and you cupped his face to deepen it as you did. Hannibal took his time to part your lips slightly and move you more towards him.

As Hannibal distracted your upper half, Will began to caress your sides. His hands moved tenderly up and down your thighs and would occasionally dip between them. He let his fingers dance across your clothed area. He only stopped when he reached the edge of your underwear; he would tease you by pulling the fabric up slightly and snaked his hand between your flesh and thin panties. 

Your breath paused a moment and a soft hum left your parted lips when Will rubbed his fingers against your folds. Hannibal pressed himself against you and let out a groan as you pulled him closer. 

“She’s so needy for us.” Will taunted. The comment made you pout a little and Hannibal lips noticeably lifted in response. “Tell us what you want hun, we’ll give it to you, whatever you want just ask.”

You let out a whine at the though of using your words. It was just too embarrassing to truly tell them your desires but reluctantly you did as told. “I… I want you both inside me…” You hesitated before adding a quiet, “Please.”

“Oh so polite for us. What a good girl.” Hannibal whispered to you, more so to Will though. 

You let out a needy whine and pushed your hips both into Will’s hand and Hannibal’s hips.

“Let’s give our good girl what she so desperately wants.”

They both sat up and pulled you along with them. Quickly you undressed with them and then they had you lay your back against Will. His warm skin against yours caused you to sigh at the feeling. You almost became unaware of his length pressed against your back until you felt the tip’s precum wet your back slightly. The reminder had you drifting to thoughts of what it’d feel like to have it finally inside of you. 

Admits your distraction Hannibal had begun to crawl closer to the two of you. He brought you back to them by placing his hands onto your now bare thighs; drifting them upwards then spreading them. Once they spread he moved in closer.

Moving up he went past you and made his way to Will. He glanced down at your curious self and then moved to Will’s ear. He then began whispering low enough that you could not hear a single word and before you could even think of something to ask. Hannibal lifted his hands and grabbed a hold of Will’s jaw and roughly laid a kiss onto his lips.

Their tongues were pushed against one another and at some points a tongue would drift into one of their mouths. Will both visibly and physically showed his liking for the kiss by pushing into it and growing harder. He then let out a deep moan that caused his chest to vibrated against your back.

You could feel yourself become even more aroused and the wetness between your legs became more noticeable. You thought about reaching one of your hands down between your legs to pleasure yourself at the sight but found that Hannibal had beat you to it. One hand stayed on Will while the other made its way between your legs. He moved his fingers between your delicate folds, coating his fingers in your slickness. You loudly moaned at the contact and lifted your hips to give him more access.

When Hannibal deemed his fingers wet enough he slipped one within you and began thrusting it in and out before attempting to slowly work you up to two fingers. Your moans increased once he added a second and at that he curled his fingers slightly hitting a spot that had you’re hips pushing down on his hand for more. He then added in a third; at this point you were writhing beneath him, the warmth within your stomach quickly building. 

Just when you thought he was going to start bringing you to your climax he stopped and pulled them out. You let out a dissatisfied whine and opened your eyes to look up at him. A muffled chuckle could be heard from above and then Hannibal pull away from Will. He made his way back down to you before, in what could only be described as purring out, “Are you ready for your reward now songbird?”

You looked past Hannibal and up at Will in an almost questioning way. He nodded his head slightly as if he had known what you were asking when you yourself didn’t know. But at his sign of approval you looked back at Hannibal and  quickly nodded your head. 

At your sign of consent, Hannibal grabbed ahold of his length and made his way to your entrance. Before he put it in though he coated his head in your wetness and spit down onto your entrance. It was something you hadn’t expected but had you gasping out at the feeling. Once we deemed that he was lubricated enough, he pushed himself in.

Will ran his fingers within your hair and moved you up to kiss him; distracting you from any discomfort. His softness greatly balancing out Hannibal’s rough movements. His tongue lapped up any moan you let out and his fingers caressed your sides in a easing way.

At first his pace was slow until Will moved his hand down between your legs and gathered any of the liquids he could before teasingly circling two of his digits your sensitive clit. You cried out into his mouth and felt your legs jolt at the touch. And Hannibal took this as his queue to pick up his pace.

The heat inside you coiled more and more and you could feel yourself getting close. You started to relax your body more and your breathing slowed as well. You took in deep breathes, well as deep as you could with Will’s mouth on your’s, and felt your self give into the release. Your mouth fell open and you felt your body spasm slightly and your arms bent back and grabbed onto Will’s legs.

Hannibal slowly worked himself in and out after noticing the movements and pulsing inside of you. He moaned out as your squeezed around him and seemed to both push him out and suction him more. The contrast and feeling had him closer than he originally thought and as you came down from your high, his had grown nearer and nearer.

It was at this moment when he pulled out and began stroking himself at your entrance. His hand increase its speed and you watch as one of his hands spread your legs giving him more access. With a final groan he came onto you and ropes of cum leaked down your crevices.

As the two of you laid there breathing heavily you began to wonder what you’d do about Will. He was still hard against you and you could tell that you were to sensitive to go for a round two yet. Then an idea popped into your head that had you smiling coyly and caused you to slowly turn your body so you were now laying on him.

You leaned in and kissed him gently before you started to litter kisses all along his body. As you moved lower you would tenderly nip at his skin each caress of your teeth on his skin had him moaning quietly. Once you reached your desired destination you looked up at him from under your lashes. Eyes observing his every move to see if he was uncomfortable at all with this.

Seeing no signs of discomfort, you licked a long stripe from his base to the tip. Then you swirled your tongue around it, letting your saliva pool around him and drip down his shaft. Will set one of his hands on your head and braided his fingers into your hair. You allowed him to guide you down and you bob your head on him.

You felt movement behind you but didn’t think anything of it until a mouth connected to your now sensitive sex. Hannibal’s seemingly tongue mocked your motions and lapped up any of the mixed liquids he found. You surprisingly felt no discomfort from the delicate touches and even found yourself pushing down onto his face. Though for a moment you hesitated, thinking that’d you’d crush him if any further pressure was applied, but hands wrapped around your hips and pushed your down more.

Your moans sent vibrations through your mouth and onto Will’s cock. Eventually leading to an even louder response from the man above. He praised you when he wasn’t practically crying out. The praises were nothing wild but they were enough to make you feel light headed and adored. Your favorite phrase that he had muttered was most likely, “Holy fuck princess, you look and feel so good with your mouth around me. Just like the good girl you are.”

After a few minutes you noticed that he had begun to move your head faster and his hips began to lift, which you assumed was his attempt to get in deeper. You ended up gagging a few times and found yourself drooling, what felt like,  pools around him. Then suddenly the movements became sloppier and less controlled. At some point you gave up all control to him and instead focused on moving your hips more to get more pleasure out of Hannibal’s mouth.

You felt the familiar warmth inside your stomach coil and twist about and right as that feeling made itself known Will came hard inside your mouth. To your surprise, you ended up swallowing every ounce, not letting a single drop spill. And as you did so, your second orgasm ran through your body. Your muscles shook a little at another rush of euphoria.

Slowly you removed your sore jaw off of Will and pulled your hips up and off of Hannibal’s face. Strings of saliva stuck you two will for mere seconds before they broke and as you glanced up at Will you noticed his dark red face and giggled at the sight. You had never seen him more embarrassed from something then now. It was, somehow, quite adorable. 

You couldn’t help but reach up and place your hands on his warm cheeks and pull him in for a tender kiss. Something about the way you kissed him felt so sweet and pure, despite the sinful acts you three had committed. And you couldn’t find it in you to pull away. You stayed with your lips on his for a moment or two and then slowly separated. 

After a brief moment of silence and stillness, large hands made their way around you and wrapped themselves around your hands. With a seemingly no hesitation, they guided both you and Will back onto the bed. As you had moved down, you removed your hands from Will’s face and instead placed them around his arms and on his back.  

You pulled him closer to Hannibal and yourself and rested your head next to his chest. Your legs tangled with Hannibal’s and one of his hands reached out to set on Will. You had thought a bit about how natural all of this had seemed. It was quite odd that none of you had spoken yet but you said nothing about it.

And as your eyes slowly shut you whispered out a barely audible, “Goodnight.” and fell asleep before you could hear them mutter the same word.  

[henrycavillobsessed]

A Christmas Distraction

Henry x first person reader

Summary: When your mother visit for Christmas, Henry finds a way to distract you from the ensuing stress.

Words: 1552

CW: smut (sex), overbearing mothers/strained mother-daughter relationship

Notes: Here’s a little smutty one-shot I wrote this evening, the last of my own ideas before I start on my 1000 follower celebration requests. Enjoy and Merry Christmas everyone! 

“So darling, we’ll be round for about 12pm. I expect lunch will be nearly ready then will it? I could bring the turkey, save you the trouble. Yours is usually a little dry anyway…” My mother’s voice droned on in my ear. I was still reeling from the news that she had just invited herself and my step-father round to mine and Henry’s house for Christmas. I honestly thought I’d gotten away with it this year, having heard nothing from her until now- now being the 22nd of December with only three days to go- so I thought it’d just be me, Henry and Kal this year. Small, intimate, relaxing, just perfect. Why did I pick up the phone? Why did I say yes? I finally come round to my senses and replied to my mother. “Mum, I’m a chef for a living. I’m more than capable of cooking the turkey.”  “Well yes love, but I don’t want you to get stressed, we both know what you can get like,” I only get like that around you, mother, I thought, and then sighed. “Mum, I’ll do all the cooking, see you on the day. Bye -bye now,” I hung up before she could say anything else. 

Kal suddenly started barking madly. I looked up and saw Henry walk in through the front door, home from the gym, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes and grinning at me whilst ruffling Kal’s fur. The sight of my man all damp and in his work-out gear was usually enough to launch myself at him and have him there and then on the living room floor. But my most recent phone call had seriously affected my mood, and Henry noticed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he said, frowning, joining me on the sofa and wrapping an arm around me. I leant into his embrace. “My mother.” I said, my voice glum. “Oh no, what’s she done now?” I nearly laughed at his response. Henry was no stranger to how strained mine and mum’s relationship could be. Thankfully, he was supportive, always had been. “She’s coming for Christmas dinner, with John.” “When did she lay this on you? Doesn’t she know it’s three days until the 25th?” “Of course she does, she just doesn’t care. She rang me not long ago. Didn’t even ask, just invited herself. God why didn’t we go to your parent’s house again like last year?” I said, fondly remembering the festive season the year previously where Henry and I had spent an incredibly enjoyable week in Jersey with his parents and brothers. “Oh love. What can I do to help?” Henry asked, rubbing a hand up and down my back. I sighed again, and then reluctantly got up from the sofa. “I suppose I’ll have to go shopping. Care to join?” “We’ll take the Range Rover. We’ll need the bigger boot for all the extra wine you’re sure to need. Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the car keys.

Three days later and it truly was worse than I’d imagined. John, my step-father, had driven over, which meant mother had already started drinking, no doubt opening a bottle of Bucks Fizz before the sun had even risen on Christmas morning. She hadn’t been here ten minutes when she started in on my appearance, commenting on how my new hair cut just wasn’t flattering on a woman my age. She even insulted Henry, saying and I quote “don’t they pay you enough to afford nicer clothes on these little movies you do?” Henry’s fame didn’t faze her in the slightest, if anything it made her even ruder, but Henry, the perfect gentlemen as always, just smiled in response, although the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Once I’d got mum and John settled in the living room with drinks, Henry found me in the kitchen opening a bottle of red wine with every intent of just necking the whole thing. He reached up and grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard above the sink and gently took the bottle out of my hands and poured for me. I sat down, rubbing the spot above my eyes where a headache was forming. Henry sat down next to me, handing me the wine. “I’m so sorry, this wasn’t the Christmas I had planned for us,” I said to him. He squeezed my leg, and smiled. “Any Christmas I spend with you is perfect. I just hate seeing you like this, so stressed. It’s not fair.” “You can say that again,” I mumbled, sipping my wine. Henry stood up and leant against the counter top. He suddenly looked very mischievous. “I have an idea. What you need is a distraction.” “I don’t have time for distractions, I’ve got to do all this cooking because God forbid I get anything wrong or don’t serve it on time…” I replied, waving a hand towards the stovetop where multiple pans were boiling away. “Come on, it will take five minutes…” “Henry I can’t-“ I started, but was interrupted with a shrill “Y/N!” coming from the living room, accompanied by what sounded like a fork being tapped against an empty wine glass. “Changed my mind, a distraction sounds fantastic,” I said, necking my wine and taking his hand. I was surprised when he led me to the room just next door, the utility room where I did the laundry. “What are we doing in here?” I laughed. Henry slid a box of laundry detergent across the door, essentially locking us in. He straightened up and turned around, licking his lips with a twinkle in his eye. I stopped laughing immediately. I knew what that look meant. “I told you, baby,” He walked towards me, slowly backing me up against the wall. “What you need is a distraction. And I am more than happy to be the one doing the distracting…” I swallowed, awareness coursing through my body. He was everywhere, his muscular arms caging me in, his scent threatening to overpower me as he leant in slowly and took my mouth with his in a smoldering kiss, the effect of which I could feel pooling down below. I was instantly wet and wanting for him. “And what type of distraction,” I panted. “Did you have in mind Mr Cavill?” “The type where my cock is deep inside of you.” I almost came there and then listening to his voice, my arousal building. I didn’t know how much I needed that until he’d said it and now, I was desperate. “And what if our guests hear us?” “Hmm. Maybe I should gag you.” He smiled the smile of the devil as he reached into the clean laundry pile and produced one of ties. Staring into my eyes, he asked wordlessly for my consent. I nodded clearly, my mouth dry, my pussy soaked. He rolled the tie up and pushed it into my open, waiting mouth, using another tie to hold it in place which he knotted at the back of my head. “Turn around,” he commanded, and I obeyed. He leant down and placed a tender kiss on my neck, then another, and another. I moaned; the sound muffled. I felt his smile against my neck. His hands roamed downwards, one sliding into my trousers and then into my panties. His breath hissed as he felt the evidence of my arousal. He circled my clit, the feeling exquisite, and it wasn’t long until he brought me to a gentle, rolling orgasm. I could feel his dick hard against my back, and silently willed him to put it inside me, and, as in tune as we always were, Henry complied. He pulled us away from the wall, turning us to face the dryer. One of his beautiful hands pushed slightly against my back, urging me to bend forwards. He grasped both of my hands in his other, placing them on top of the dryer with a whispered don’t move and then suddenly, finally, he was inside me, easing himself in gently, his groan echoing mine as he filled me up. And then he was moving, each thrust hitting me inside just right and suddenly I could feel that pressure building again, I was coming, I was coming hard around him, and he was emptying himself hotly into me, our joint orgasm exploding through us and at that moment I had never been more grateful for the gag. Gently, Henry pulled out from me and removed my makeshift gag. “Jesus, Cavill…” “I hope that helped” He winked. After we finished putting our clothes back on, he kissed me quickly on the lips and flashed me his award-winning smile. Shaking my head with a smile of my own I followed him out of the utility room back into the kitchen, timing it near perfect as my mother walked in just after. “Y/N! I was calling you! Now, where are we at with this food? Oh, that turkey looks awful, dry as a bone! I keep telling you, the secret is- “ “Oh, mother, do shut up,” I said, shocking her into silence. Henry winked again as he left the room, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter, as I turned back to the stovetop, ignoring my mother’s outraged commentary, feeling thoroughly relaxed and distracted.

[sweeetcreatvre]

God-Sent Angel

“I lied to you, Harry.” You looked up at him waiting for an answer and hoping he doesn’t get too upset with you.

a/n: i’ve been in a mood!! these last few days. i haven’t written in forever, but this idea popped into my head and the words just floated onto the page. i hope you guys like it! i am a very small page still, so if you see this if you could like, repost, and consider following i will love you forever. thank you for reading 🤍

pairing: harry x reader

warnings: explicit talk of mental/emotional abuse, please don’t read if you can’t handle it. this was heavily based off of my experience with my parents. this is not meant to try and romanticize abuse in any way, and please don’t take it like that. abuse is not fun, there’s no good side to it. a little angsty? fluff

word count: ~2.6k

•••

You met Harry when Sarah and Mitch introduced the two of you a little over a year ago. Sarah’s your best friend, you’ve known her since uni, and she’d convinced you to meet Harry by telling you that it would just make it easier for the two of you to hang out if they didn’t have to split their time between you and Harry and you all just hung out together.

You immediately took a liking to Harry. Because of your horrid anxiety and how awkward it made you, you usually hold back until you know people a little better, but something about Harry put you at such ease with him.

You hung out a couple times alone as “friends”, but both realized it was more than that when you declined Sarah and Mitch’s offer to go out because you already had a date with chinese take out and a line up of rom-coms you’d planned to watch for the night.

You and Harry bonded over cheesy movies. With his busy schedule and how difficult it is for him to go in public, you would watch movies at one of your homes and then reenact the scenes with him.

Things with Harry were easy, he made you happy, and he put you at ease.

•••

You went home to Manchester with Harry one day and truly had the best time. You loved how much his family cared for each other, and how they interacted.

That night, as you were laying on his chest in Anne’s guest room bed, you spoke the words that had been in your head all night, “I hope our family is like yours one day.” You didn’t really plan on saying it, the words just kind of came out.

You were worried you’d scared Harry by being so open about kids with him. You were serious obviously, having met his family and everything, but you hadn’t really talked about kids yet.

He still hadn’t talked causing you to look up at him and sit up a little. “I mean, not that we’re having kids or anything anytime soon, I just thought maybe one day, or not, That’s fine too.” You let it all back in one breath wishing you would’ve kept your mouth shut.

He pulled you back to his chest and kissed the top of your forehead before whispering, “(y/n), I want nothing more than to have a family with you one day. I love you, and I plan on keeping you around for as long as you’ll let me.”

You smile into his chest and place a soft kiss there. “I love you too,” your voice is muffled by his chest.

•••

After you met Anne and Gemma, Harry kept begging you to introduce him to your family. For a while you were able to put it off, saying they were in America, which is true, but not the reason you won’t let him meet them.

Your parents were... difficult. They never hit you growing up, not enough to leave any marks at least, but they yelled, and got angry, and got drunk, and got manipulative. Because they never hit you, it took you a long time to accept what they were doing was abuse.

When you turned 18 you applied to colleges abroad and got accepted into a university in England, you haven’t looked back since. Your parents were always the thing holding you back in life, so 3 years later, when your little brother turned 18 and moved out of the house, you cut off all communication with them. You still talk to your siblings, them being the only thing that kept you sane. You talked to them almost daily, and sometimes you’d even go visit them. Your oldest sister came to England a few times, her being the only one you fully trusted to not tell your parents where you lived.

But telling all of that to Harry was not something you were interested in. It was too much baggage, and no one ever understood how you could just cut off the people who raised you. It was always “They’re your parents, they love you, give them a second chance.” and you’re tired of hearing how you’re hurting them when they hurt you for 18 years.

So you made up excuses as to why he couldn’t meet them for as long as possible.

You spent your first Christmas together at Anne’s saying you couldn’t afford to go home, and you refused to take the money Harry offered to buy you a ticket.

That summer you compromised with him and your older sister came to stay with you.

Harry loved your sister. He said you act so similar, and he loves seeing you so happy. Your sister brings out a different side of you, and Harry adored it.

That also meant he just wanted to see more of your family.

•••

Harry had never spent a Christmas away from his family, and you didn’t want to spend Christmas away from him, so you were hoping that was enough for him to accept you not going home.

As you walked into Harry’s home after work he calls out to you “I’m in the kitchen, love!”

You walk into the kitchen and immediately your senses get filled with a pleasant smell. As you walk in, he turns from the stove to give you a kiss, but he holds you in his arms as you pull away from each other.

“Hi, baby,” you half-whisper half-laugh out to him.

“I missed you today,” he began pressing more kisses to your jaw then down your neck, but they were slow and sweet.

Your arms around his neck, you play with the hair at the nape of his neck, loving that it’s growing long again, the curls tangling in your fingers.

“What’s for dinner it smells delicious?” you ask him as he’s still kissing at your neck.

“You smell delicious, I’ll have you,” he mumbles in between kisses, but then his kisses picked up a faster pace and got more toothy.

You laugh at him and then gasp as he’s biting at your skin then soothing it with his tongue. However, you push him away because you’re starved, only having a small lunch because you had a busy day. “Baby, I’d love to but I’m starved, feed me first.”

He laughs at you then turns back to the stove. He lifts the lid on the soup pot so you were able to look inside. “I made your favorite, figured it would be nice for the snowy day it is.”

You smile at him, he never fails to make you so happy by doing simple things for you.

Your whole life you struggled with feeling like your presence was too much. Always calming yourself down so you were never too excited or too sad or asking for too much.

Harry never made you feel like that though. He went above and beyond for you time after time and you loved that about him. He’d never take your praises for it either. “‘s no big deal, just wanted to remind you how much I love you,” he would say, but to you that was a huge deal.

After you eat you clean up the dishes together and you’re ready to cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie with him, but Harry has other plans for the evening.

“I have an early Christmas present for you,” he says after coming back from his bedroom where he disappeared for a few minutes.

“Harry..” you started, but he silenced you with his finger pressing to your lips.

“It’s for both of us really, and it can’t wait until Christmas, so you have to open it now,” he places a small wrapped box in front of you, “go on.”

You hesitantly untie the bow holding the top to the bow then take the lid off. Inside there’s two pieces of paper, two plane tickets. You read the information on the tickets and see that they’re round trip from the 22nd to the 26th and they’re to Indianapolis airport. AKA Harry has planned a trip for the two of you to go home together for Christmas so he can meet the rest of your family. Shit.

You stare at the tickets in disbelief, then at him, then back to the tickets. “H..” you start but you trail off, not even knowing what to do about this. He spent hundreds of dollars on you to meet your family, and gave up Christmas with his own too, and there’s no way you’re going.

He seems to pick up on the fact that you’ve been awfully silent. “Ya gonna say anything?” he asks carefully. You can hear in his voice that he’s afraid he’s messed up, but he’s trying to hide it with a smile and joke. He’s being so hesitant with you, scared to make a move or say anything.

You look up at him with shiny eyes, tears threatening to fall over. You were gonna say something now, but before you could Harry started again.

“Oh, God, I messed up didn’t I? I- I shouldn’t have done all this planning without even asking you. I shouldn’t have just invited myself home with you. You know what, it’s fine I don’t care about my ticket, you can go by yourself, I’ll stay here. You never see your family, I mean I should’ve known you would want to be alone with them. You go, I’ll stay here, I don’t care, just please stop looking at me like that or I swear to God I’ll start crying too. You’re the only thing I’ve ever been this scared to lose, I don’t care what you need. Take it, take it all.” The whole thing is rushed out and you can tell he’s freaking out.

You grab his hand, still in your place on the couch and he’s standing in front of you. You intertwine your fingers, “Can you sit down?” you whisper softy to him. He looks at you for a moment before moving to sit next to you, but you’re both turned sideways so you’re still facing each other.

“You can tell me if you don’t want me to come I won’t be upset.” He sounds so heartbroken by the idea that he’s scaring you off and it’s killing you.

“No, H, no, baby. I don’t want you going, but I’m also not going to go. It’s not the gift I love it, and I love that you always try to buy me the most personalized gift, but I just- I can’t go home.”

“I don’t understand. Your family is there, you- you should go be with them for Christmas.”

Staring at your hands in your lap you think of how you’re going to tell him this. “I lied to you, Harry.” You looked up at him waiting for an answer and hoping he doesn’t get too upset with you.

“What?” He’s not mad, just more confused.

“You haven’t met my family because I don’t talk to them anymore. My parents, I mean. I obviously talk to my siblings, you know i talk to them, but not my parents. I haven’t spoken to them in 4 years, and I intend to keep it that way.” A few tears have slipped down your face and your voice keeps breaking.

“Can I ask why?” His hand comes to rest on your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

“They were abusive,” you barely whisper the words and Harry has you in his arms immediately his chin rests on the top of your head, and with shaky breath you cry into his chest, holding tightly around his waist feeling so vulnerable and exposed right now. You’re sitting sideways in his lap, one of his hands is on your back, the other on your waist and his thumb is rubbing back and forth on the small bit of exposed skin above your pants where your shirt has ridden up.

When your breathing has gotten a little more normal, you look up at him and he places a kiss on your forehead. “They weren’t physical, but the screamed.. a lot” your voice sounded weak, but it wasn’t as shaky.

“You don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to, I mean. I believe you.” You shake your head.

“I want to tell you.” You felt so bad for lying to him for so long. “It wasn’t ever bad until I was like 11 or 12. My sister says she believes it’s just because she took a lot of the heat.” You have 2 older sisters, Charlotte and Sarah, they’re 9 and 11 years older than you. Your oldest sister was the target of a lot of their stunts. “She moved out when I was 8, Sarah when I was 9, and we had a couple good years. Then we moved in with my grandma, and shit hit the fan.”

“I struggled with the workload of my classes, and they didn’t like that, said it made them look bad. My dad would get mad and yell, he even told me he hated me once. My mom checked on them obsessively, and I’d get angry messages about how bad I’m doing during the school day.”

“When my grandma got super sick, everything got ten times worse. She was my rock and I saw her declining everyday from January-August. My dad continued to be up my ass about grades, while also drinking ridiculous amounts. My mom fell into what I think was a depressive episode, and would come home late and say things like ‘I didn’t come home because no body values me here anyways’ but not in a way that was sad, she’d be angry about it and yell about it to us.”

“After she died I had to learn to live without her, and I had no clue just how much she was keeping us together. The next 3 years was constant screaming and manipulation. My grades slipped a little, and they hated that I wasn’t their perfect little prodigy who just pranced around knowing everything anymore. They made me feel so worthless, and like my entire existence was a burden. I was too loud, and too talkative, and too lazy, but not smart enough, and I didn’t work hard enough, and I had no pride in the things I did.” You paused for a minute.

“You’re the only person that’s ever made me feel like I’m not too much or too little.” You whisper out the confession to him knowing that it is how you truly feel about him. “I moved here when I was 18, and cut off all ties with them when Carson turned 18. 3 years later. I’m the only one of us to actually do it, but I’m just so much happier without them in my life.”

“I’m convinced you’re an angel,” His voice cracks and you look up to him to notice he’s shed tear or two and more are threatening to slip out, “sent for me, straight from the gods, because I don’t think any human is as amazing as you. I don’t have any idea what I did to deserve and angel like you, but I’m never letting you go. I love you, and I love that you’ll cry in my arms and how open you are with me. You really are a god-sent fucking angel.” He’s cupping your face in his large hand now. “We won’t go to the States for Christmas. We’ll go to Manchester, and we’ll spend it with my mom and sister.”

“I’m sorry we’re not going, I know how bad you wanted to meet them.”

“No, baby, it’s ok. We’ll spend all the Christmases here, and one day we’ll host Christmas. With our family that will be just like mine, like you said you wanted the first time you met Mom and Gem. You’re gonna be so happy, that’s my life mission, to make my heavenly angel happy.”

“I am happy, H. Right here, with you.”