#i can tell he’s meant to be this stylish person who dresses well

[shoheiakagi]

i think kusanagi is the only hmr member who will be able to pull off skinny jeans

[galaxyedging]

College Max Phillips x f!reader. Friends to enemies to lovers.

WC:2.3k

Max is the ideal roommate until he isn't.

Warnings: Smut. Male and female masturbation. P in V sex. Dub con if you really squint. Overstimulation.

Roommate Agreement

“Max Fucking Phillips!” The roar leaves you as soon as you slam the door.

It echoes through the stylish yet modest off-campus apartment you can afford now that you have a roommate. An apartment that you will sorely miss when you can't afford it because you've murdered your roommate.

“If you're going to summon me like that, at least use my correct full name, Maxwell Fuckington-Phillips.” A head of over gelled hair comes around the corner to narrowly miss being hit by one of your shoes. “The third.”

“Don't! Just don't! Did you tell my date that I have baby fever and I'm just in college to earn my MRS?” Your tone is even and calm despite you wanting to rip Max's head off. He'll get what's coming to him, first you want confirmation.

“I was joking with the guy. You know, like when you told my date I was a STD ridden man whore.” He shrugs sliding onto the sofa.

“I told you that I didn't know she was your date. I know her from one of my classes. Plus, I wasn't joking. I saved her a course of medication and probably months of therapy from the serious regret she would have the next morning.” Your dig didn't even phase Max. 

The endless to and fro of barbs had started about three months after Max moved in. Before that the two of you were practically inseparable. Max had tutored you for a few months. To break up the monotony of studying, you would go grab something to eat and idly chat. For some reason, even though you were very different people, you got on well. When your friend pulled out of renting the apartment the day you needed to sign the lease, Max was the first person you offered it to. He took one look at the place and signed on the spot. The owner was an older lady who was just happy to have someone living above her store. The people who rented that from her commuted from the suburbs, leaving the whole building empty at night. Perfect for a couple of college kids. Until you realised that you couldn't stand each other.

“So what? You're just going to punish me?” You huff at him.

“Hey, if I don't get laid, why should you?” There was an undercurrent of genuine annoyance in his tone.

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know if you know this….but women talk. My dick is blacklisted.” He looked sorry for himself at his admission.

It only takes about two seconds for the laughter you were trying so hard to keep in bursts out. “I'm sorry. It's just funny.”

“I'm glad I've found some way to amuse you rather than you being an uptight bitch to me.” 

“I meant the blacklisted dick part was funny. Not the situation, asshole. So is that why you're ruining my dates? You're jealous that someone else might get some? Fuck you, Max.”

“Maybe that would solve the problem. You caused this dry spell. Maybe you should moisten it.”

Trying hard not to gag at the imagery or the word moisten, all you can think to do is flip him off while you find your words.

“Oh, so you're the other kind of jealous. Not of me, of the guys I might bring home? Do you want me that bad Max?” Your pout at him leaning over in your date night dress so he can see right down the front of it and your lack of a bra.

“Please, if I wanted you. I would have had you months ago.” Max tells your cleavage.

“Yeah, right. My eyes are up here.” Walking deeper into the apartment, you head for your room. “Since my date didn't go well, I'm getting my best toy out. Her name is Jessica. I usually wait until you are out but I guess you'll just have to wear earplugs to bed.”

“You have fun with Jessica, try not to think about me too much.” Max bites at your heels as he catches up and brushes past you down the short corridor to his own bedroom.

Jessica glistens in the low candle light, fully covered in lube and ready to go. Even the scented candles and relaxing oils hadn't loosen you up enough to be able to give Jessica the welcome she deserves. 

‘Fuck. Who does he think he is?’ Trying your best to calm your thoughts you undo your robe and let it fall from your body. Licking your fingertips, you idly trace one of your nipples until it reacts under your touch. The other one gets the same treatment before you take the full breast in each hand and knead them gently. Eventually you feel the pull of your pussy needing your attention. As soon as you reach your folds, you find that Jessica might be up to bat sooner than you thought. Now that you're looser, your pussy is practically dripping. As you slick up your clit and begin to circle it, you tell yourself your arousal has nothing to do with Max. Nothing to do with the thought of him being all pent up and how easily he would come apart underneath you. Nothing to do with the thought of taking his pretty cock in your mouth. And it was pretty. You accidentally walked in on him getting out of the shower and may have dragged your feet, just a little, getting out of there. There is no denying that Max is hot but he is still such an asshole. Fresh anger flares in you as Jessica nestles deep inside you. The first button you tap brings her head to life rotating inside you. The second makes her ears twitch against your clit. Usually you would let the woman work and build you to a steady, satisfying climax. Tonight was different, gripping the base of her, you angle her where you need her and begin to pump her in and out, hard. With your free hand gripping the metal bed frame above your head the whole thing begins to squeak with your movements. There is not one single fuck to be spared for Max as your moans sound out just as loudly. It barely takes any time at all for you to reach the edge. Going over it a litany of curses spill from your lips. Laying there, head thick from your high time seems irrelevant until you need to pee and have to gingerly remove faithful Jessica from being tightly gripped inside your body. After you get the two of you cleaned up, you slip back into bed. Sleep tugs at you until you hear the rhythmic thud of a headboard against a wall.

Max already had a chub on at the sight of you poured into that dress but once he got a good view of the swell of your tits and a peek of your nipples, he was fully hard. He did intend to jerk off quickly, so he could just get to sleep and forget your fight. Then he heard it, the distinct low buzz of a vibrator. Fuck. He thought about your teasing your cunt until you came writhing and twitching on the cheap substitute for his dick. He listened as he raided his bedside drawer for some toys of his own. He filled his sleeve with some lube and pumped his long, thin dildo inside of it ensuring they were both covered. His pillows became makeshift pillowy thighs as he placed his cock sleeve between them in the middle of his bed. His cock twitched with interest as your moans grew louder. His own utterances of fuck and shit as he sheathed he cock were hidden under yours as you came. Max had to take a moment to squeeze his cock so he didn't blow his load there and then. When he felt the need pass he spread his legs to push his own dildo between his asscheeks into his greedy hole. He lays flat to catch his sleeved cock between his body and the bed. While his hips work back and forth he keeps the dildo still so he's either fucking or being fucked with each thrust. He doesn't give a shit if his moans sound pitiful. They are. He's so pent up and this feels so good. The sounds of your enjoyment still free in his ears and the sight of your tits still on his eyelids is the icing on the cake. He pants, moans and whines his way to his peek as he jack rabbits into the mattress. 

“Oh! God!” he moans when his eyes roll back in his head and his balls empty into the toy. 

He's so loud, he doesn't hear the door open or your footsteps on the floor. He only realises you're there when the bed dips next to him. In his blissed out state he doesn't care that he's laying completely naked with a dildo sticking out of his ass. He cares a little more when you nudge it further into him.

Whatever Max says is lost in his pillow. 

“Don't say a fucking thing. Don't spoil it, just shut up.” You make it clear that the last thing you want to hear is his voice. Unless it's whining in pleasure.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He grins stupidly.

“What did I say?!”

“Don't be so grumpy.” He teases. “Are you going to play with my ass or what?”

You answer by pressing the tip right up to his prostate and rolling it up and down over the gland. 

“Fuck. Stop. I can't…” Max pants.

“Oh, poor baby. Are you over-stimulated?” You tease right back working the toy harder.

“Fuck. I'm serious. I…” his annoying complaints are cut off by your lips. 

As Max's lips melt into the kiss, the rest of his body tenses. His head snaps away from yours to bite down on his pillow as he comes again.

“‘uck me!” Is all he can grit out until he releases the thick material. “Fuck. That was…fuck. How did you…? Come on.” Max's earlier bonelessness dissipates as he drags you toward him while turning over and simultaneously removing the toy from his twice spent cock. 

“Come on. Sit on my face. Suffocate me with your cunt until I'm hard again then you can show me how to do that.” Half of that shouted from between your legs.

“Max! I…oh!” You almost squeal as his hot muscle goes straight for your hole. His tongue swirls through your release while he drinks it down like some crazed mythological creature who feeds on bodily fluids. He only pauses to beg you to blow him. Which you oblige to since the sight of his cock getting hard just from eating you out makes you eager to bounce on it. He grows bigger and thicker in your mouth while you do your best to suck in-between moans. Max has moved to sucking on your clit now the sudden intrusion of two thick fingers has you coming on them. 

Max might be a loser in the personality department but he's definitely a winner in refractory period stakes. His cock is rigid again in an impressively short amount of time. Swinging your leg back over his head you shuffle down the bed ready to straddle his hips and eagerly ride his cock.

“I want to be on top.” Max complains.

“Tough.”

His length drags against the heat of your core as he tries to buck you off. “Max!” You half moan, half chide. “No!”

It's Max's turn to moan when you trap his cock between your wet core and his body. He can't help but grind against you a little.

“This is getting us nowhere.” You huff. “Speak for yourself.” Max sighs, gripping your hips to slide you on his length.

“Max! Come on. Guess we could compromise. Doggy?” You supply.

“Fuck, yes.” Max ungraciously bucks you off of him to scramble behind you while you get on all fours.

Just as you get your balance, Max slides home in one fluid motion. For the first time in a long time the two of you seem to be in agreement. Both letting out sighs of contentment. Max starts to thrust and you stay firm to meet every one. It's rough and nasty, and everything you both need. The sounds of skin slapping and fluids gushing fills the room. The two of you moan, grunt and swear like vulgar animals. Sweat covers both of you from the effort of trying to out fuck the other. In the end the two of you climax in perfect sync. Max doesn't ask before finishing inside of you. His cum fills you deeply as he works you both to draw out your highs. 

“Looks like we found something we can agree on.” Max pants sprawling out over the bed.

Shoving past him to go pee you add “Yeah. Plus you are like seventy five percent less annoying during sex.”

“Wow. You keep flattering me like that and I'll think you're sweet on me.” Max called after you.

For a moment in the post coital haze, you think back to when things between you were good. At one point, you really did like Max. He was good company. Smart. Even sweet on occasion. He’s handsome, driven, great in bed. Entering the bathroom and not even stopping to flip on the light or close the door you move on muscle memory while the urge to pee gets stronger. You lower yourself down to the toilet….and almost fall in because the toilet seat is up. “Maxwell Fuckington Phillips…the third!”

[theartisticintrovert]

Double: Initial Thoughts (Pre-VD)

ok this beat slaps

MY BOY THERE HE IS!!!

i was right this is 90% a Niko song

(longer, more involved theory-crafting under the cut)

I WAS RIGHT he WAS meant to protect mikoto!!! and the fact that he calls himself the "newborn other you" supports my theory that he's new, probably forming either right before or right after the murder.

"I don't even know the reason why I'm here" and "[He's a liar,] you said, and made me out to be a scoundrel, why?" sounds a lot like even Niko doesn't fully remember what happened. Also, I looked into the lyrics (as I do), and I found some interesting bits in that second line. Take this with a grain of salt, I'm not a native Japanese speaker, but I did my best to look at resources from fluent speakers (like Japanese dictionaries) to explain nuances.

I find it interesting that they chose to translate 悪者 (warumono) as "scoundrel", rather than something else. Literally, it means "bad guy" (warui = bad, mono = someone/person), and thus could be translated a number of ways. Villain, bad guy, ruffian, rascal, etc. So why scoundrel? Is it another case of strange translation, or does it mean something about Niko?

Also....considering how clear the first MV was with 1) WHERE the murder happened, as well as 2) the Kotos whacking an Actual Human Person, I strongly doubt that the implied Subway Rampage happened here. In fact, the entire thing feels like it's happening while Mikoto is having a mental breakdown and lashing out. None of it feels real, not like MeMe did (at least, the parts taking place outside Mikoto's brain).

I think Mikoto is (or at least was) suffering from the culture of overwork that's common in Japan: karoshi, or "death from overworking". Obviously he's not dead, but he definitely wasn't looking so hot in that MV. Eyebags, dark circles, exhausted posture, and bedraggled appearance were just a few things I picked up on my first run-through. His clothes, while fashionable, are loose, baggy, and cover his body completely. For someone like Mikoto, who's so meticulous about how he appears to others, to purposely dress like this? It contrasts so much with his flashy hair and piercings that one has to wonder why?

It's a ruse. Just like how peacocks have false eyes on their tails to deter predators, I think Mikoto's flashiness is meant to draw attention away from everything else. Any inconsistencies can be explained away with a makeup mishap (because you can't tell me this man doesn't wear foundation and concealer at a minimum), and having stylish clothes distracts from how otherwise baggy they are. Baggy clothes in themselves are a smokescreen, too. They hide your physical form, making it so it's harder to tell the true build of someone underneath.

Kotoko uses this to disguise herself in Harrow, which leads to the police looking for a bulky, middle-aged man instead of a 20 year old female college dropout. Mikoto uses his clothes differently, meant to distract from anything "concerning" about him that can't be brushed away with a laugh or a smile. I think he's trying to hide being too thin or malnourished, since stress and overwork can lead to fatigue, poor nutrition, and a host of skin problems. Hiding that behind baggy clothes and a layer of makeup means his ditz mask works better, and anyone sharp enough to look past it....well. I'm not actually sure he's met anyone like that, if his phone call with his mother was any indication.

The point is, I'm worried about him. I think his murder was a result of a mental breakdown but not, as I thought earlier, from anger, but from stress. Stress from overwork that led him to the point of death, and it was just bad luck that meant it was someone else's rather than his own.

Again, this is all just a theory, and I haven't listened to the VD yet. But I will say this; I've been there, and while I haven't killed anyone over it there were times I got damn close. I may not agree with him, but I understand, especially if he has nobody who knows the Real Him. I was lucky enough to be able to vent to my friends about my job and school before my stress breakdown consumed me, but I don't think he has anyone like that.

Godspeed, Mikoto. Lord knows you need it.

[birbfeeder2artisticboogaloo]

thousand autumns donghua, episode 8~

OHHH he's the junior preceptor?? what an interesting title!! i have no idea what it means!! is that like 'guoshi' from tian guan ci fu, perhaps?? a similar title, maybe?? WAIT THE OLD MAN IS BULLYING BIRBS??? UNACCEPTABLE. I WILL PECK OUT HIS EYES >:V oh so they're competing for Number One Temple now?? have they already decided on the top ten brothels and five-star inns of the jianghu?? are the temples the only thing left to be ranked?? lol yan wushi curled up on the other side of the table before he stands up looks so fecking funny, i wish i could take a screenshot, he's like a lil purple daruma 🤣 SHEN QIAO IS OUTRAGED!! yws: why do u care what those losers do?? btw u lost this game so u have to do my chores >:) shen qiao: i mean….i guess i'll do it :/ ilu announcer man whose job is to shout the guests' names jfc shen qiao u couldn't even be bothered to dress up?? put on a different jacket or something?? ok then i actually find the random 'normal looking' side character and bg characters to be a bit more pleasing to look at than the super-pretty main dudes lol. might just be personal taste tho 😅 UH-OH HE LOOKS FOREIGN. WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS ngl he's kind of hot tho Duan Wenyang is STYLISH AF. vaguely menacing, but TOGGED TO THE BRICKS, as they say!! (idk anyone who actually says this) dwy: OH CHIEF DISCIPLE?? u can be our witness!! sq: im blind :/ WHY DO FIGHTS ALWAYS BREAK OUT WHEN PPL ARE EATING owo who dis??? he's even MORE stylish!!! wow ;A; the old man splayed out over his divan like a TART, robes hanging open like a TART, his hair LOOSE and FREE like a TART honestly i have the most fun with the fight scenes and watching yan wushi menace random ppl for his own amusement OH SHIT ITS JGY'S BIG BRO i don't TRUST HIM, he wears a HAT and MISTREATS MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS >:( yws: wow, ur such a creep. #cancelled BIG JGY U STOP HURTING THAT POOR INSTRUMENT!! is that a qin?? it makes such a pretty sound ;A; i want oneeeeee ;A; OOOOH PHOENIX POWERS!! YWS IS SUCH A BADASS OH MY GOOOODDDDD!!! HOLY SHIT!! GET EM OLD MAN, SHOW EM WHAT'S WHAT!!! WELL DONE!!! :DDD yeessssss MORE FIGHT SCENES!!! duan wenyang has got a whip and the li qingyu has got a really pretty sword!!! dwy: see y'all another time! :D poor shen qiao has to keep telling ppl that he's not the chief anymore, that can't be easy on him ;A; OH LOOK DWY IS BACK. i guess when he said 'another time' he meant 'in ten minutes' lol GET EM SHEN QIAO!! li qingyu thought shen qiao was a bad dude??? wtf??? WHO HAVE U BEEN LISTENING TO. WHO COULD CALL MY SWEET SHEN QIAO A BAD DUDE. HE'S LITERALLY SO INOFFENSIVE??? god the music SLAPS OH CRAP HE BROKE THE BAMBOO STICK----OOH NICE CATCH!!! lmao shen qiao immediately showing the other guy up after praising him for his good martial arts 🤣 HE'S SO POLITE. I LOVE SHEN QIAO lmaooo li qingyu seems quite nice as well, 'u can stay with us instead of the old man, if u like, we don't mind! :D' ASDFGHGFDS THIS KID WANTS TO PAINT SHEN QIAO 'bro ur like. SO HOT. LIKE A CELESTIAL BEING. WAY HOTTER THAN ANYONE ELSE. LET ME PAINT U PLS ;A;' i roast him, but as an artist i understand his pain 😔 sometimes u see someone so beautiful, u really can't help urself 😔 OH I SEE. duan wenyang and kehan dude and big jgy are all IN LEAGUE with each other!! innnnch restinggggg 👀👀 DON'T TRUST THE JGY SHAPED MAN, FELLAS. DON'T U SEE HIS HAT. DIDN'T U SEE WHAT HE DID TO THAT INSTRUMENT. IT'S A BAD IDEA ALL ROUND u know yan wushi barely evil laughed AT ALL during this episode. how disappointing 😔

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.” 

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf. 

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels. 

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up ��� with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons. 

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be. 

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

------------------------------

+ Childhood

[abbacchiosbelt]

Someone Great | Yandere!Satoru Gojo x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k.

CW: Manipulation, yandere behavior, kidnapping. SFW but allusions to not sfw acts.

-

"What's wrong, sugar?"

Gojo's sing-song voice makes you cringe - he knows what's wrong. It's just like him to play the fool, to pretend that he was innocent in all of this and that you were the one with the problem. You glare at him and he holds his hands up, the grin on his face never faltering.

"You know I'm just doing this to keep you safe. How many times do I have to tell you—"

You cut him off, repeating the phrase he had attempted to drill into your head back to him. "You're the strongest. No need to tell me again."

Gojo shrugs, unbothered. "I'm the strongest." You roll your eyes at his need to repeat what you'd just said, the words only meant to stroke his out-of-control ego. Gojo plops down where you're tied up on his couch, snaking an arm around your shoulder. Even if you pulled away, there would be no escape from him. Some bullshit jujutsu sorcery kept you bound to your current spot, unable to move. Gojo squeezes your shoulders with his broad arm, making you wince. "C'mon, at least look at me. You know I love you."

Anyone else in the world would be lucky to see Gojo's eyes and hear those words from him - you'd felt lucky once, too. But that was before Gojo took an interest in you, before he took control of your life.

"Baby," he sighs, pressing a peck to your cheek. "You've gotta get used to this. You can't keep fighting me forever. I know you love me too."

"It's been a week," you spit. "A week since you trapped me here."

"And haven't I treated you well?" Gojo replies, calm.

"I would never hurt you. You'll realize one day that this is what's best for you."

I.

There was a distinct divide in the world you lived in - there were civilians, and there were Jujutsu Sorcerers. With the sorcerers came curses, although the average civilian wasn't meant to be aware of curses or what they entailed. You, however, had become a frequent flyer when it came to needing the help of Jujutsu Sorcerers.

When you were born, a curse attached itself to your back. Later, you'd learn that there was a man in the hospital room with your parents meant to dispatch the very thing that had attached itself to your back. You were only 5 when your grandmother had told you about the family curse - each child born in your family was cursed upon birth. It had been happening for centuries. Allegedly, one of your ancestors had done something to anger an obscenely powerful curse. Your life would be filled with troublesome events, she'd said. But it wasn't all bad. There were people in this world who could dispatch such curses. They could see them, unlike you or your family. Your life wouldn't be easy, but it wasn't over before it began.

It wasn't easy. People tended to avoid you, even when you were young and innocent. It was hard to make friends, and most of the interaction you got aside from your family involved the sorcerers dispatched to take care of the ever-returning curse on your back. They were kind to you, but they were always distant. You did the best you could, hoping that one day someone would be able to see past the gloomy aura that followed you around.

That someone came in the form of one Satoru Gojo, dispatched to dispel your curse when you were in your mid-twenties. You had recently moved and registered with the local technical college. By now, it wasn't a big deal to you to tell people about your curse, especially to jujutsu sorcerers. They always were a bit odd, and though you had never grown close to any of the sorcerers who had serviced you, their presence was more calming than the presence of your peers.

Gojo had been sent to your home, the technical college hoping to ease your burden (and unknown to you, hoping to offload Gojo for just a couple of hours) by not making you take the train. His arrival was like no other jujutsu sorcerer you had met - he'd barged in your house without knocking, a broad smile on his face and stylish sunglasses covering his eyes.

The shriek you made at his surprise intrusion was undignified, but the white-haired sorcerer didn't seem bothered. He had laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "Aah, sorry. I thought this was an urgent deal." He raises his eyebrows as he watches your lips contort into a frown. "I'll knock next time."

"You'd better," you mumble, and Gojo smiles.

"Or else?" He quips, taking a step towards you. You didn't even know this man, and he was acting like this? This is who the technical college had sent over?

"I'll request someone else." You respond, curt. He laughs, loud and jovial. What was with this man?

"They didn't tell you about me, then?" He crosses the distance between the two of you and sticks his hand out, tongue poking out of his mouth. You take his hand, dubious, and he shakes it with vigor. "I'm Satoru Goju, and I'm the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer."

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He really had an ego on him. He takes your silence in stride, still smiling. "I know. You don't meet people like me every day. But trust me, I'm here to help you. Don't you feel better knowing that I'm here?"

As much as you wanted to tell him no, that he's a certified, over-bearing maniac who just barged into your house... You can't help but bask in the comforting aura he emits. Something about him, despite his manic personality, felt safe. The air in the room felt calming—

Gojo notices your sudden shift in behavior and tilts his head, still smiling "When we shook hands. No need to worry about it coming back for a while."

"Oh," you reply, amazed. It didn't take the other sorcerers long to dispel the curse on your back, but it usually was a bit of an affair. Satoru Gojo had gotten rid of the damn thing without needing to lift his pinky finger. "Well... Thanks." You shift from side to side, suddenly feeling small in his presence. Maybe he really was the strongest.

Gojo puts his hands in his pockets and leans back, relaxed. "If you really want to thank me, let's go into town. I'm starved."

The awe you felt immediately dissipates and turns back into annoyance. Sure, he had done you a great favor, but it was part of a contract you had with the college. Now he wanted food? Still... You couldn't deny that you were curious about him, even if he was managing to press all your buttons upon your very first meeting. You sigh, resigned to the fact that you knew you would regret it if you didn't take him up on his offer.

"Fine. Let me grab my bag." Gojo claps his hands together at your response, humming contentedly.

"Great! I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I hope you're okay with sweets for lunch..."

Gojo goes on and on about his favorites while you grab your bag, fighting with yourself not to roll your eyes at him. What had the college gotten you into?

-

II.

As time passes and Gojo visits you to remove your clingy curse, the two of you grow closer. It's slow, at first. He gloms onto the fact that he annoys you and revels in it, smiling with glee every time you roll your eyes at him. At one point, he removes his shades when he arrives and teases you about the expression on your face for the rest of the day. It's like he can read your mind - you want to kick yourself for being so obvious, but it's impossible with someone like Gojo around. No matter what he does or how much he makes your blood boil, the calming aura surrounding him never falters. You feel at home around him. When you start to feel something tugging at your heart whenever he's around, you know you're at the point of no return.

You don't expect anything, though. Gojo is beyond your level - it's not a judgment of yourself, but simply a fact of life. Besides, Jujutsu Sorcerers were hesitant to get in relationships with civilians from what you'd learned over the years. You couldn't blame them, as their line of duty would put their partner in harm's way. The least they could do was be with another sorcerer who was able to defend themselves.

It comes to a head one evening when Gojo had stopped by unannounced. You weren't due for another curse removal, but you didn't mind his company. You had answered the door in your pajamas, not expecting anyone other than perhaps a neighbor wanting to ask you a question. Instead, you opened the door to see Gojo standing there dressed to the nines and holding a gigantic bag from the sweets store you and he frequented.

"U-uh." You stammer, feeling at a loss for words. "Gojo?"

He shifts from side to side, and you catch the tiniest hint of nervousness from him. Odd. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. I know you're curse-free right now, but I always want to check on you."

You balk at how smoothly he'd confessed, ushering him in without saying another word. You weren't sure what to say - had Gojo really just said what you think he'd said? He always wanted to check on you? Surely he meant it platonically, there was no way he looked at you romantically.

Gojo sits down on your couch likes he owns it and pats the spot next to him. You sit down without thinking, watching Gojo carefully as he unloads the bag of sweets on the coffee table. He talks about the different sweets as he places them gently onto the table. His blindfold had been pushed up, revealing those sparkling blue eyes of his that made you feel like you could gaze at him forever.

"Are you even listening?" You snap your head towards Gojo, finding his lips just a breadth away from yours. He had moved closer, close enough so that you could feel the warmth of his body, and you had been too distracted by your thoughts about him to notice the very real physicality of him.

"Gojo," you mumble, He pulls back a little and simply gazes into your eyes, waiting for you to continue. For a man who always talked, he was being rather quiet right now. "Why did you come here?"

Gojo smiles, soft - it's a look you haven't seen on him before. "Why else?" He leans towards you, oh-so-close again. "I can't stay away from you."

Whatever self-control you had is gone, and you lean forward to press your lips against his. He responded immediately, using one of his broad hands to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. The tension between the two of you is palpable, and the heat flooding through your veins is telling you more, more, more—

But just like that, he pulls away, sighing.

"Gojo?" You ask, concerned. Was it you? He looks at you, the longing in his eyes obvious.

"You know you can call me Satoru," He says, playful. But a second later, his face falls into a serious expression again. "I want this. I want you." He turns to face you, sliding one of his hands onto your thigh. "But this isn't what jujutsu sorcerers do. The danger you would be in if we were together... I can't put you through that."

As much as you want to argue, you know he's telling you the truth. You place a hand atop his. "Satoru, then. I think it's obvious I want this too." He smiles and gives your thigh a tiny squeeze. "I won't force you to do something you're not comfortable with. But, you'll still be my friend, won't you?"

Gojo chuckles, but there's no mirth in his laugh. "Who else would annoy you? Ah... I could never be without you, either." He turns away from you and stares into the distance, closing his eyes. "Maybe..." He shakes his head suddenly and turns back towards you.

"I should go." He bites his lip, staring at you. "Or maybe... just once. We could be together."

Oh. Oh.

"I'd love to, Satoru."

-

III.

Once turns into twice, and twice turns into three times. Gojo departs after cleaning your sheets and making you breakfast, ignoring your pleas that he didn't have to do any of that. 'It's the least I can do,' he'd said, smiling all the while. It had felt off, though - like there was something unsaid. You'd chalked it off to melancholy over the fact that things could go no further, and had spent the rest of the day busying yourself with chores.

The visits continue, though, even when you don't have a curse that needs expelling. Things don't make it to the bedroom again, but Gojo is intense. His eyes are always on you, and he's practically plastered to your side. When you go out he keeps his distance, but he's always on alert. He takes your hand when he knows no one is looking and sneaks kisses to the top of your head in private. You accept it, knowing that this is how things have to be.

It concerns you when suddenly, Gojo starts to appear at your apartment every day. You'd thought about giving him a key, but you couldn't remember if you had or not - yet he had a key, and he'd told you that you'd very much given it to him. Perhaps it was the curse muddling with your memory, he'd suggested. It had happened before.

It's fine, then. He's just looking out for you - it's the best he can do in the current situation. Gojo starts to spend the night, walking around your apartment at inane hours to make sure things were okay. When you're sleeping, he checks your phone (he'd watched you put in the password) and your calendar. He deletes texts from people he doesn't approve of and removes calendar dates when they interfere with his schedule. It's all to keep you safe, of course. You are the most important thing in the world to him.

You're blissfully unaware of this, writing off any strange incidents happening to you simply because of the curse that clung to your back. Even when it wasn't present, it still appeared to meddle in your life. As long as Gojo was there, though, you felt safe.

You never expect Gojo to be the one who makes you feel unsafe.

-

IV.

A particularly busy week at work left you unable to see Gojo for longer than usual - you were working, and he was out of the country on official business. You couldn't answer his calls or texts like usual, only replying every once and a while when you had the chance.

When Gojo returned, he was angry. You'd never seen him angry before, yet here he stood in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as he lectured you about answering his texts. It was unusual, and it felt wrong. You weren't dating him. You were just friends. That had been established by Gojo himself, so why was he acting like this?

"Satoru, you're not my boyfriend. You don't need to keep track of me every second. Even if we were dating, it'd still be too much."

He grits his teeth at that, clearly not impressed. "Don't you understand how much you mean to me? I can't stand it when I'm not with you."

You give him a pointed look. "This is... too much. I don't like it when you act like this." As much as you cared about him, this was ridiculous. He wasn't your keeper. You think of the threat you made the first day you met him. "I can request someone else to dispel my curse." He glares at you. "We'll still be friends. We just need some time apart."

"You don't get it." Gojo scolds. "I didn't want to do this, but I can't take it any longer. You can't take care of yourself. I need to protect you." He's on you faster than you can blink, and the last thing you see before your vision goes black is his angry expression softening back into bliss. "Just go to sleep. We'll be home soon."

-

V.

When you wake up, you're in a strange room with no windows. It's pitch black, but whatever you're laying on is heavenly. It's plush, and it smells like Gojo— Gojo. You panic, sitting up in a hurry and rushing towards the door. Locked. You shake the handle and pound on the door, confused and terrified. "Satoru? Are you there?" You yell, panic in your throat. "Please, let's talk! Please, Satoru!"

The door swings open and you fall back, gazing up at the towering figure before you. Gojo had never intimidated you, but the way he stood above you now was terrifying.

"How are you feeling, sugar? I hope that didn't hurt." He steps into the room and flicks on the light switch, alighting the room with a soft blue glow. He crouches in front of you and pushes his blindfold up, a manic smile crossing his lips. "I love you. I want to keep you safe. This is the best solution," Gojo says. "It's the easiest solution."

"W-what?" You're baffled by his words, by his behavior. What had he done? "Satoru, this isn't... This isn't normal. You have to let me out of here." You pause, trying to think of something to push him towards your favor. "We can figure our relationship out. I-I didn't mean what I said about requesting someone new, I just got scared."

"And I don't want you to be scared of anything," Gojo says, giving your head a condescending pat. "You won't be as long as you're here with me."

You grunt, frustrated. He was the reason you were scared! "I can't stay here forever. You won't do this to me."

"I will." Gojo tilts his head. "I told you, I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Tears well in your eyes - what else could you say or do? Nothing was getting through to him. Gojo notices the tears brimming in your eyes and leans forward, wrapping his arms around you. What once felt comforting feels suffocating, the warmth of his body and the familiar scent of him all too much.

"This is what's best for you. I promise."

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 9: Closer

...in which Ezi has her first kiss.

Word count: 5.4k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Please tell me what you think about the chapter! Reblog if you could :)

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“Do you know why there’s a true love’s kiss and not a true love’s hug?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I was asking you.”

Harry sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He had to keep his eyes on the road, but Ezi would keep distracting him with her shifting in her seat every two seconds and rambling on about silly topics he had no interest in. However, he’d promised to not be a dick whenever she talked to him, so he wouldn’t.

“Can’t you see that I’m driving?”

“So?” Ezi snorted. “Just answer the question.”

Harry sighed again. “I guess that’s because a kiss is more special than a hug...romantically.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why not not? You’re just exchanging saliva.”

“It’s special if you’re exchanging saliva with someone you care about.”

Ezi still wasn’t satisfied with that explanation. “Okay, but what if the person won’t let you kiss them? How will you know if it’s true love?”

“If they don’t want to kiss you, it means they’re not interested, and therefore, it’s not true love,” Harry said. He couldn’t believe he was actually giving this some thought, but oh well, it was a long drive to the manor anyway. “For me at least,” he added, “true love must come from both sides.” Then he stole a glance at her and did a double-take. “Are you taking notes on your phone?”

Ezi flinched and put her phone into her bag right when she made eye contact with him. “No.”

“Liar. You were.”

“I’m learning to be human.”

“Just say you wanna kiss me.” Harry smirked. “We’re the only people here. This is a safe space.”

“It’s never a safe space when you’re in it,” Ezi said.

Harry’s eyebrows went high. “Excuse me? Yesterday you almost attacked a child for cutting the line in the supermarket.”

Ezi gave a firm nod without showing any remorse. “And the child would have deserved it. You, on the other hand, are deadly with your words.”

“How?!” cried Harry. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since we started fake dating.”

Ezi rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Yeah, your new record of being nice to me is two hours. Congrats.”

Harry exhaled, his shoulders slumped. “Okay, I think we should go over what to do when we see my mum, because if we act like this in front of her--”

“Why are we seeing your mother again?”

“Didn’t Jeff tell you?”

Ezi shook her head. She seemed quite confused, so Harry guessed Jeff had forgotten. To be honest, Harry found it funny and a little concerning that she had no idea why she was in the car after having been in the car for two hours. Someone could just kidnap her one day, and she wouldn’t even realise until they told her it was a kidnap. Or, maybe she just trusted him not to drive her to a government lab and donate her organs to science.

“Well, Jeff wants some new PR content of you hanging out with my family,” he told her.

“Why?” she asked, face scrunched up.

He lifted his shoulders. “To humanise you.”

“Good luck with that,” Ezi scoffed, rested her elbow on the window on her side and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It takes a lot to humanise me.”

“Well, not literally. Just in the public eye, because a lot of people suspect that this is a PR relationship. We’ve only been seen together as friends or co-workers.”

“That’s not true. We’re not even friends.”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed. “So if we can convince my mother that we’re dating, we can convince the whole world. Trust me.”

Harry didn’t even exaggerate it; his mother could detect a lie from miles away. He could count the number of times he’d got away with a lie to her on one hand. However, he had never lied to her about being in a relationship. So hopefully, she’d be too happy with the thought of him not being a player like his dad to tell the whole thing was fake.

And so for the rest of the drive, he and Ezi tried acting out scenarios for when they met his mother again. They broke out laughing most of the time because Harry would say something too cheesy or Ezi would use some lines she’d learned from those Netflix originals that Harry had rated one star. Now that they were standing on the steps of the manor, they had to keep it together. Because no one would shout ‘cut!’ if they messed up their lines. This was almost like going in for a blind audition, and Harry knew his mother would be the toughest judge to impress.

“Harold!”

“Niall?” Harry’s eyes went wide when his best friend shoved the butler aside and embraced Harry at the door. Mikasa, Niall’s girlfriend, was standing right behind him, wearing a dark green satin dress that fell loosely to her knees. She gave Harry a lopsided smile, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approached.

Harry hadn’t talked to her for weeks, but he assumed she already knew about Ezi. Hopefully just as much as his mother did. Unless Niall had broken the bro code and told Mikasa everything.

“Mimi, long time no see!” Harry said as he went in for a hug.

Mikasa eyed him up and down with her big smokey eyes. He always imagined those eyes having a special power that enabled her to stare right into his soul and read him like an unsealed letter. She was a psychiatrist and always making her friends feel like they were having a regular session in her office.

“So this is your girlfriend?” Mikasa asked, smiling at Ezi.

Harry’s gaze jumped to Niall, who subtly locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder. Niall knew about the PR relationship, but Harry could always trust Niall not to tell anyone, even Mikasa. Especially Mikasa.

“Darling, you made it!” exclaimed Harry’s mother as she descended the stairs. Harry was just going in for a hug when he saw who were following behind her. And he froze.

Dawson and evil Aunt Beatrice. Dawson was wearing a simple black suit, completely made invisible by his mother in the tackiest neon orange sundress Harry had ever seen. He could hear his stylish crying just from seeing this outfit.

“What are they doing here, Mum?” Harry quietly asked his mother as they hugged.

His mother kissed his cheek and whispered back, “Since you invited Niall and Mikasa, I thought I should invite Dawson and his mother.”

“How is that the same thing?”

“Harry!” Aunt Beatrice said in her glass-breaking voice as she pulled him in for a suffocating bear hug. “Ah, you grew up so fast! I hardly recognise you!”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Aunt Beatrice.”

“I know, right? Kids these days.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Harry,” Harry’s mother reminded him, so Harry took a deep breath and went to stand beside Ezi. She looked at him like a deer in front of headlights. This couldn’t be good. His family must be overwhelming for her.

“Hey, Ezili!” Dawson waved at her with a smile, and suddenly, her face brightened, and she enthusiastically waved back. Traitorous little fish, Harry thought as he watched the two greet one another.

“Congratulations, you two,” Dawson said.

Ezi opened her mouth to reply when Harry threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to his side. He gave Dawson the best grin he could fake. “Thanks,” was all he said.

“Picture, everyone!” Niall interrupted the awkward interaction and pulled out his phone.

Everyone gathered together, and Niall winked at Harry. “Now, Mother Styles, could you stand closer to Ezili? Closer! Thanks. There we go. Looks like Ezili’s a part of the family.”

Once the picture was taken, he nudged Harry with his shoulder. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Harry patted him on the back. “Send it to Jeff for me.”

“Boys, are you coming?” asked Mikasa, who was walking ahead, holding Ezi’s hand.

“Coming, lovebug!” Niall shouted at her and told Harry. “See? She likes Ezili.”

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“So what do you do for a living?” was the first question Harry’s mother asked Ezili when they sat down at the lunch table. They were eating in a glass house in the flower garden by the lake. There were people dressed in uniforms serving them tea and appetizers, and Ezili felt like she was Alice having tea with the Queen of Hearts and her courtiers in Wonderland.

“I work at a bookstore,” she said when one of the maids filled her cup with Jasmine tea.

She didn’t understand Harry’s mother’s appalled reaction and why Harry had to add, “Ezi owns a bookstore.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry’s mother said, sounding strangely relieved.

Irritated, Ezili leaned in and whispered to Harry, “Why did you lie?”

But he didn’t answer and only shushed her before smiling at his mother again.

“Can’t believe I get to live to see Harry bring home a young lady!” said Aunt Beatrice. Dawson opened his mouth to interject, but she didn’t give him a chance, “I always thought you were gay!”

At that, Niall choked on his tea, and Mikasa had to rub his back as he coughed violently into his fist. Ezili knew what gay meant, but why was it a bad thing?

“What if I were?” Harry asked his aunt. “I don’t see the problem with me being gay, which I’m not.”

“These biscuits are so nice, Aunt Annalise,” Dawson told Harry’s mother, probably trying to save the conversation from turning into a fight. But it seemed like Dawson’s mother was out for blood this morning.

“Harry,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and Ezili saw Mikasa and Niall sink into their chairs. “You’re a celebrity and the heir to this manor and your father's business. It’s so...unexpected of you to be dating some girl who works in a bookstore.”

Ezili wasn’t dumb. She might not understand a lot of things humans said, but she knew sarcasm like her mother tongue. It was her time to say something.

“What’s wrong with working in a bookstore?” she asked, making direct eye contact with Aunt Beatrice, who was shocked by the question. Everyone at the table seemed to be holding their breath.

“How much could you possibly do and make by owning a bookstore these days?” Aunt Beatrice laughed.

Ezili smirked and shook her head. “You could do and make a lot if you knew how to read.”

Harry kicked Ezili’s foot under the table, but she didn’t pay him a single glance. She believed she’d said nothing wrong at all. It was only the truth. Because why look down on people who worked at a bookstore unless you hated books because you couldn’t read?

Seeing his mother’s face turning red, Dawson burst out laughing. “Oh my God, she’s so funny!” Mikasa and Niall started laughing, too, and Harry’s mother awkwardly joined in.

“That’s what they call dark humour, Aunt Beatrice,” Niall told the angry giant lady. “Ezi’s a true Gen Z. She’s all jokes.”

Aunt Beatrice said nothing else. She shot a glare at a smiling Ezili and lifted her cup to take a sip.

“Oh, there’s my new cook!” said Harry’s mother as she waved at the door. “This is Dolores' first day at work. Come say hello, Dolores dear.”

“Good morning. I hope everyone’s having a wonderful time.”

Ezili’s entire body went stiff. Her eyes almost popped out of her head and dropped onto the plate in front of her. She knew that voice. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage as she held her breath. She felt the person’s presence beside her heavy like a weight ready to crush her bones into dust. Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked up.

Her sister Koa was grinning down at her.

“Ezili, are you okay?” Dawson asked, snapping Ezili out of her numbness.

Koa’s devilish grin remained as she circled the table after wishing everyone a pleasant meal, then disappeared out of the entrance.

Why was she here? Why did she have legs? How had she found Ezili?

“Okay, let's get straight to the point,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and everyone groaned at once. “How much did he pay you?”

“Mum!” cried Dawson.

“Excuse me?” Harry arched an eyebrow.

“It’s PR, isn’t it?” Aunt Beatrice said to him. Ezili was having a hard time paying attention to the argument while her heart was still pounding in her head. Her sister was here, either for her, or after her.

“You can’t do that to your mother, Harry,” Dawson’s mother went on. “She might be easily fooled but I’m not.”

“We should’ve gone for mini-golf,” Mikasa muttered to Niall, who exhaled into his hand.

Harry turned to his mother. “You’re just gonna let her disrespect my girlfriend like that?”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but his aunt was faster. “If she’s your girlfriend then kiss her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry scoffed and threw his hands in the air.

Ezili immediately stood up. All eyes fell on her.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I must go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll take you--”

“No, Harry, you stay.”

Harry slowly sat back down as Ezili pushed her chair out and headed straight for the door. Thankfully, he didn’t follow her.

She crossed the garden and asked one of the employees where the kitchen was. As it turned out, they had a separate kitchen for when they served food in the glasshouse. Ezili couldn’t see the point of having more than one kitchen, but this was no time to question it.

When she found Koa, no one else was there but them. It seemed as if Koa had known Ezili would follow her here, so she’d asked everyone else to leave.

Ezili stood at the door while her sister stood by the counter with her back turned to Ezili. The first thing Ezili noticed was the knives within Koa’s reach. Ezili must be wise when confronting her sister.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Koa in Séren.

Koa slowly turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m a cook. Can't you see?”

“How did you find me?”

The corner of Koa’s lips curled as she unbuttoned the collar of her white shirt and revealed a gold necklace. Ezili sucked in a breath when she saw the shiny trident-shaped medallion on her sister’s chest.

“Is that--”

“Mother’s trident,” Koa sneered. “Yes, it is.” Then she buttoned up her shirt to cover it. “Now we can see who mother trusts more.”

“Why--”

“Aunt Nerissa came for a visit last week,” Koa said. Ezili knew that name could never be associated with anything good. “Mother doesn’t trust her, so she asked me to go on land to find you, but also to keep the trident away from Nerissa’s clutches.”

Ezili swallowed hard, her fists tightly glued to her sides. “What happened to the cook?”

Koa clicked her tongue. “She’s swimming with fishes now. Like the ones swimming in her pot just then.”

“You drowned her?!”

“In the lake.”

Ezili gripped her head and advanced towards Koa. “How many humans have you killed?”

Koa chuckled and took a few steps forward until she was dangerously close enough to hurt Ezili. She stood with her back straight and arms folded, her silver eyes flickering in the sunlight. “The important question is…” She stared Ezili down. “How many have you killed?” Ezili bit her lip when Koa poked her chest with her long nail. “Or are you too busy dating now? People are talking about it everywhere.” Ezili said nothing, so Koa went on, “It’s a fake relationship, isn’t it?” She leaned in, taunting. “Come on, Sister. Admit that you’ve failed. That you can’t make the human fall in love with you. Why so quiet? Is it because if you admit it, you’re an embarrassment and you lose the trident to me, and if you deny it, then it means you’re becoming way too human to kill him.”

At that, Ezili shoved Koa away and stabbed a finger at her. “Leave me alone. Mother gave me a year for this mission.”

“We won’t have that much time, stupid,” Koa snorted. “Narissa is onto something. The queendom is already in danger as we’re speaking. And you’re here having...brunch?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Pathetic.”

“Ezi?”

Both of them whipped their heads around and saw Harry, who stiffened in the doorway.

“Ezi?” Koa cackled, hugging her stomach. “Is that your human name? Are you his pet now?”

Though confused, Harry stepped into the kitchen anyway. “Ezi, you’re alright?”

“Harry, watch out!” Ezili shouted, but Koa was already on top of Harry on the floor. She sank her fangs into Harry’s arm with the rolled-up sleeve. Harry yelped in pain as Ezili dragged her sister off of him and slammed Koa’s head against the table. Hissing, Koa grabbed a knife on the counter and aimed it at Ezili, but Ezili was fast enough to kick it out of her sister’s grip and sent one more kick into Koa’s stomach. Koa was stronger than Ezili had thought as she plunged at Ezili again.

“Harry, run!”

But Harry didn’t run. He was back on his feet, grabbed a vase and smashed it onto Koa’s back. “Do not hurt my fake girlfriend!”

Koa rolled off of Ezili. The last thing Ezili could see was her sister’s bloodied face as she stumbled towards the door and ran off into the light.

Ezili lay there until her vision cleared again, and Harry helped her back to her feet.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled. “Who the fuck was she?!”

“My sister,” Ezili said, still holding her aching head.

“The one who tried to drown me? Why is she here?”

“To kill me, I think.”

“Why?”

“Harry--”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was pacing back and forth like a mad man. “This isn’t good, Ezi. This is bad! Your crazy sister is gonna expose us!”

“Expose us?” Ezili grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. “She almost killed you.”

It seemed as if Harry had forgotten that his arm was bleeding until Ezili had brought it up. He suddenly winced and fell into a chair.

Ezili scanned her eyes around the messy kitchen, panting as she tried to make sure that Koa had escaped. Then, she got down on her knees beside Harry and reached for his wounded arm.

He stared down at her in confusion, then his expression turned horrified when she leaned in.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed and yanked his arm away.

She glared up at him in annoyance. “Let me help!”

“Hell no! You’re not gonna lick my blood.”

“You need to clean the wound!”

“With water! Not by sucking it!”

Ezili huffed and aggressively got up while silently cursing Harry in Séren.

“There’s a--” His voice cut off when she tore off a piece of her dress “--towel over there,” he trailed off. She ignored him and went to the sink to soak the piece of fabric in water. He shook his head and blew up his cheeks. “Nevermind. You do you.”

Still glaring at him when she returned, Ezili got back down on her knees and started cleaning Harry’s arm. The place her sister had sunk her fangs into had turned dark red. It would definitely leave a huge bruise tomorrow.

“Lucky for you Koa was distracted and didn’t aim to bite your whole arm off,” Ezili whispered and glanced up, meeting Harry’s gaze. “You sure you don’t want me to lick your wound?”

“Well, now that you’re already in this position, you could just lick something else,” he chuckled.

Ezili’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

To her confusion, Harry covered his face and shook with laughter. “Sorry, that was a dumb joke. I just couldn’t help it.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Yeah, that’s how a joke loses its funny,” he sighed then snapped his fingers. “Ooh, maybe I should just pretend that I don’t understand whenever someone tells me a joke, so that they gradually lose their funny.”

“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Ezili remarked.

“What do you mean?” Harry pouted. “I don’t get it, babe.”

Ezili rolled her eyes at his childishness, still, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

Once she had wrapped the piece of her dress securely around his arm, Harry pulled down the sleeve to cover it as he got to his feet. “That should do. Let’s hope my mother won’t suspect that we just got attacked in her kitchen by her cook, who was your evil siren sister in disguise. Damn, that sounds crazy even for me.”

Ezili stood with her arms crossed. “Do you think your mother can tell we’re not really dating?”

“Nah, my mother totally believes it.” Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I think we’re doing a great job pretending we’re in love when we can’t even have a conversation without insulting each other.”

“I don’t get paid enough to call you babe so many times.”

“Neither do I. This PR relationship is harder than I tho--”

Harry’s sentence got cut off by a sound at the door. When they both turned to it, Dawson was standing there, his eyes wide with shock.

Ezili was hoping that was the reaction to the messy kitchen and not to what she and Harry had said. However, luck wasn’t smiling at her tonight. Dawson’s appalled gaze jumped from Harry to Ezili. “What do you mean by ‘PR relationship’?”

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“I can explain,” Ezi said, reaching for Dawson, but he backed away while staring at both her and Harry in disbelief. Harry believed Dawson wasn’t shocked that Harry could pull something like this, because Harry hadn’t been exactly the good kid growing up. What Dawson hadn’t expected was Ezi being part of this plan. Ezi must be an angel in Dawson’s eyes.

“So my mother was right,” Dawson said, flicking his finger between Harry and Ezi. “You were lying to everyone.”

“Dawson--” Ezi began, but Harry pulled her back by her wrist.

“Please don’t tell my mother,” he told Dawson and received stunned looks from both Dawson and Ezi. They probably hadn’t expected that coming from him. “This means a lot to her, and I don’t want her to be any more let down,” Harry continued. “Also, Ezi needs money, and I’m just trying to help. She’s also writing the next album with me, so it’s all good business.”

Dawson peered at both their faces for a long moment as if he was psychoanalysing each of them. Then, he breathed, “So you two don't have feelings for each other?”

“No.” Ezi shook her head fast and tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Harry, tell him.”

Harry opened his mouth. Suddenly, he thought about how frightened he’d been when he’d thought Ezi’s sister was going to kill her. He could’ve run off and let her deal with it alone since he hadn’t asked to be part of her family drama, and he wasn’t brave, either. Nevertheless, he’d jumped in to help her.

“No,” he said, only to realise he shouldn’t have taken such a long pause to say only one word.

“See?” Ezi smiled at Dawson, who seemed less sceptical now.

“Okay,” Dawson said, his face relaxed as he put his hands on his hips. “Who else knows? Niall and Mikasa?”

“Mikasa doesn’t know,” Harry said. “Only Niall.”

“Alright.” Dawson nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you guys are really bad at pretending to be in love,” he told them after another moment. “I’ll try to tell my mum to stop being rude to you. But just to be safe, you should make it more convincing.”

Ezi heaved a sigh of relief and placed her hand on Dawson’s arm. Harry swore he saw Dawson hold his breath as if Ezi had the Midas touch, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“Thank you, Dawson,” Ezi said in the softest tone Harry had ever heard.

“Your dress,” Dawson pointed out while eyeing her and then the kitchen. “What...what happened here?”

“There was a rat,” Harry blurted.

Ezi joined in, “Harry tried to kill it then it knocked over the vase, and I fell and pulled him down with me and ripped my dress on the glass.”

Dawson furrowed his brows as he nodded at the piece of Ezi’s dress in her fist. “That’s your blood?”

Ezi shook her head. “It’s the rat’s.” Then, she looked over at Harry, suppressing a grin. He stayed quiet and glared at her.

“Oh, God. That’s disgusting,” Dawson made a face. “Need me to help you clean up?”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Harry said. “I’ll take Ezi upstairs to clean up. Could you distract everyone for a while?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dawson nodded, gave Ezi a tight-lipped smile and turned to the door. “Now, where the hell is the cook?”

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Harry could hear every single word of the Jonas Brothers song playing downstairs. It seemed like everyone had finished brunch without him and Ezi, and now Niall was turning the manor into a concert. Niall and Mikasa had met at a Jonas Brothers’ concert years ago, and they would not let people forget about it. What they had was cute, but Harry could not imagine being with someone for that long. A PR relationship was tiring enough; he didn’t think he could ever handle a real one.

Back against the wall, he stared at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently before he came to knock on the door to his mother’s walk-in closet. “Ezi, are you done?”

“I don’t know how to put this on!”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah!”

“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Cover yourself. I’m coming in.”

Just to be safe, he had his hand over his eyes when he opened the door.

You'll say my name like it's been on your lips

Familiar in ways I can't explain

You got a heart that I know I can miss

Hold me like that and pull me right back again

The music outside became muffled. Harry peeked through the gap between his fingers, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Ezi standing there topless with only jeans on. “I told you to cover yourself!”

“Oh, please, there’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

“It’s different every time.”

“How? I’ve only got one body.”

“No, seeing you feels different every time. It’s weird.”

Time stands still and it's only us

What we feel started way before we ever touched

Just imagine only us

Yeah, you found me right before I'd given up

Ezi said nothing, and Harry lowered his hand, feeling glad that she was facing away from him now. She looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Help me with this shirt!”

He ruffled his hair and padded over to take the shirt from her hand. “You got the button stuck?! This is my mother’s favourite Chanel shirt!”

“It was like that when I found it.”

“Liar.” Harry shook his head and started examining the stuck button. Ezi turned around, hugging her chest so her breasts weren’t exposed to him. He was trying his best not to look. Maybe he shouldn’t have put her in a dress that didn’t require a bra. He guessed he’d played himself.

“Harry.”

“Damn, maybe I should get you another shirt and buy a new one for my mum. I don't know how to fix this.”

“Harry,” Ezi repeated and tapped Harry on the arm. He looked up, face heating when he saw her.

I just saw the lightning strike

Knew it right then when I looked in your eyes

And I said to myself, "It's no surprise we ain't strangers"

Strangers tonight

Still, he acted indifferent. “What?”

“I think we should kiss,” she said, making him flinch.

“Why?” He was already sweating through his palms. His mother’s shirt could no longer be saved now.

“To make it more convincing,” Ezi said as if them kissing wasn’t a big deal to her. “Maybe if there’s a picture of us kissing--”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

She froze at the question and blinked at him.

I came here looking for another excuse

To run away from something beautiful

It's like it's driving me closer to you

Every step back pulls me right back

At this question, Ezi’s whole life up until that point flashed before her eyes. She had lost count of all the times she’d kissed sailors before drowning them. But she wasn’t going to kiss Harry to kill him. Not yet at least. He would still be there, alive, when she opened her eyes. He would still be aware of her lips against his. And she would, too.

“No,” she lied.

And he believed it. He cleared his throat. Suddenly, her standing there topless wasn’t weird anymore. “Okay, it’s pretty easy.” He put the shirt aside. His fingers were shaking so he opened and closed his fists a few times before beckoning her over. “Come here.”

She took a step forward.

“Closer.”

Another step.

Harry’s face reddened with a small smile. “Ezi, closer.”

He’d never talked to her in that tone before. It was soft and firm at the same time, and she completely forgot having sworn to herself that she would never let him tell her what to do. She came so close she could not tell his breath from her own. His eyelids fluttered, and his pink lips parted, yet no word escaped. Then, he leaned in.

Must be from a different life

Been here before and it just feels right

No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers

Strangers tonight

But it was her who took his face between her hands and kissed him first. He froze for a second, then started kissing her back, his arms circled around her waist, pressing her against him.

Harry’s entire body grew hot. The voice inside his head told him to stop, but it only made him bolder. He liked that she’d taken charge. Her hands were under his shirt as his roamed across her naked back. His eyes went wide when she unconsciously let out a moan.

Strangers

Strangers

Strangers tonight

“Ezi,” he breathed against her lips. But before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door.

“Harry, are you in there?”

Ezi pulled away as Harry threw his head back and exhaled harshly. “Yes, Niall?”

“Is Ezili there with you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered in a croaked voice and quickly cleared his throat. “Yes,” he repeated, sounding more stable. “Why?”

“You missed all the fun stuff. Your mother scolded your aunt for what she’d said to you and Ezi, and Dawson had to take his mother’s home.”

Harry looked over at Ezi, expecting her to be thrilled by the good news, but she only gave a small smile, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself to cover her breasts. Was she...shy?

Yes, yes she was. Ezi didn’t think she could ever be shy. But here she stood, blushing all over from a stupid kiss.

“Are they in there?” Harry’s mother’s voice outside the door made Harry and Ezi jump.

They looked at each other, scared when Niall told Harry’s mum that they were in the closet together.

“Not in my closet, Harry!”

“I’m just helping Ezi get changed, Mum!”

“You better!”

And then their footsteps faded down the hallway, along with his mother’s laughter.

Ezi and Harry made eye contact with each other and looked away at the same time as silence ensued. Suddenly, Harry started sniffing.

“What is it?” Ezi asked, worried.

Harry leaned in and started sniffing her neck, and she pushed him away. “What the hell?!”

“You smell.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No.” Harry shook his head fast. “You smell good. But..you didn’t have a smell before.”

Ezi quickly lifted her arm to smell herself. “I smell nothing.”

“That’s because it’s your own smell, so you don't recognise it. But--” Harry cut off midsentence and picked up a strand of her hair and brought his nose to it. Then, his lips curled. “Aww, my kiss turned you a little more human.”

“Shut up!” Ezi shoved at his chest. “I’m not turning more human! That’s not true!”

“It is true! Kiss me again. I’ll prove it.”

She said nothing, only glared at him as he burst out laughing and tossed her a t-shirt.

[nothingbutimagines]

Last Christmas (Wanda Maximoff)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warning: a bit of cursing, mentions of unrequited love, bit of angst and fluff

Summary: Last Christmas, Y/n spent the night heartbroken and crying in the bathroom after Wanda rejected her at Tony’s Christmas party. This year, Y/n tries her best to put the past behind her, while Wanda refuses to go without saying why she didn’t reciprocate Y/n’s feelings.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: Wham! The fourth day of ficmas has come with a bit of heartache after many many days of fluff. As always, I am taking requests as I clean out my inbox and the holiday season comes and goes. 

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

“You okay, sweetheart?” Tony asked from beside you, his hand on your lower back as he made his way around to face you. “You’ve seemed a bit off all night.”

You nodded, setting down your champagne flute on the bar table beside you. “I’m fine, Tony.” 

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the reason you and Wanda have been making awkward eye contact all night, would it?” 

“You observant bastard.” You cursed, giving him a smirk. 

“I like to think of myself as a pretty intelligent guy.”

“Yes, so intelligent I had to point it out to him.” Natasha added, walking up behind Tony, a smirk matching your own on her face. 

“Guys, really, I’m fine.” You insisted, unsure of if you really meant it. 

“You know, it’s okay if you’re not.” Natasha reached out, rubbing your arm with her hand. 

“Oh, we’re getting emotional. I’ll leave you to it.” Tony nodded to Natasha before giving you a shy smile and walking away. 

“I had a feeling he didn’t really mean to come check on me.” You forced a small laugh.

“No, of course not. He’s not a very good actor, is he?” Natasha laughed along with you, leaning against the table as she took Tony’s place. “He was in such a hurry he left his scotch. You want some?”

She held the crystal glass out to you to take, only for you to shake your head. She shrugged, downing the last of what was left in the glass before setting it back down. 

“Shit. He wasn’t wrong, that was fantastic scotch.” She chuckled, attempting to lighten the dark cloud that seemed to be looming over you. 

You looked past her, catching Wanda’s eyes once more before the other woman looked away quickly, as if she hadn’t wanted to be seen. 

“Hey, don’t worry about her. We won’t be repeating last Christmas if we can help it.” Natasha placed a hand on your arm, getting your attention once more. 

You tore your eyes away from Wanda, who was occasionally glancing at you from her peripheral and turned your gaze back to Natasha, who was studying your expression closely. 

“I just wish she would at least talk to me.” 

“It’s kind of hard to do that. Especially when you two have barely spoken since last year.”

“That isn’t my fault.” 

“I never said it was anyone’s fault.” 

Natasha glanced over her shoulder at Wanda before she turned back to you. She fully took your hand in hers, her other hand resting on your elbow as she took a step back, pulling you away from the table. 

“Come on,” She spoke softly, giving you a reassuring smile, “Let’s take a step outside for a second, get some fresh air.” 

“Nat, it’s freezing.”

“That’s why God invented coats.” She glanced back at you, a smirk on her face as she rolled her eyes and guided you towards the patio doors. 

“I think Eddie Bauer created the first coat.” 

“And who created Eddie Bauer?”

“His father who didn’t pull out?”

“Wrong. God.” 

“You don’t even believe in God.” 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t use him to get you to come outside with me.” Natasha shrugged, letting go of your hand to pull two coats off of the rack by the door. 

You took the coat from her, shaking it in your hand. “This coat isn’t mine.”

“Who cares? We’re just going outside for a minute.” 

You shrugged and pulled the maroon coat over you, watching as she pulled on a leather jacket three sizes too big. 

“You look ridiculous.” You chuckled, following her through the sliding glass doors and onto the ice covered patio. 

“I think I look quite stylish.” She pulled the jacket around her tightly. “I’m pretty sure it’s Steve’s. He’s the only lunatic who would wear a leather jacket in New York winter.” 

“I don’t think you should be calling him a lunatic when you dragged me out here in nothing but a dress and someone else’s coat.”

“We needed somewhere more private to talk.”

“And we couldn’t just talk in the bathroom?”

“I didn’t want to return to the scene of the crime.” 

Your smile fell off your face as you nodded. “Right.” 

“Y/n,” Natasha took a step toward you, huddling close.

“Yeah?” 

“I was going to say something helpful, but I forgot because of how cold it is out here.”

You laughed lightly, pulling her closer to you, immersing yourself in the warmth you shared. “I expect nothing less.”

“I’m starting to agree this was a dumb idea.” Natasha admitted, laughing softly. “But, I will say this,” She moved to look you in the eyes, “I know it’s hard to deal with someone not reciprocating your feelings, but you are the strongest and most beautiful girl I know. It is not your loss, but hers.”

“Thanks, Nat.” 

“You know I’m always going to be there for you. Except for right now, because I am really cold and I really have to pee.” 

You rolled your eyes and cracked a smile. “I can’t believe you.”

“Just stay here and I’ll be right back! We’ll talk more in a second!” 

You laughed as you watched her pull away from you, taking quick and careful steps around the ice patches on the patio as she made her way to the door, opening it and slipping into the warm air. You gave her a small wave before turning back around, facing the view of the city as you shivered in the wind.

You couldn’t help but drift off into deep thought as you watched the lights of the city twinkle in the distance. Your mind kept bringing you back to the Christmas before, as much as you tried to fight the thought of how you spent the night locked in the bathroom, sobbing and how you had gotten so anxious, Natasha had to spend the night with you, holding your hair back as you vomited. 

You weren’t one to hold grudges, always opting to forgive and forget, but you could never shake that night off no matter how hard you had tried. 

It wasn’t that you hated Wanda, you didn’t, but you could never get over her nor the situation you had been put in that night. You couldn’t get over the way she has kissed you that night on the balcony and when you told her you wanted to be with her, she said nothing, just shook her head, stammering to herself. 

“Oh, so that’s where my coat went.” 

“I’m sorry, my friend-” You turned around, tugging at the jacket before looking up to meet the person’s eyes. “Wanda.”

“Hi, Y/n.” She gave you a shy smile, wearing a coat you recognized as your own as she stood in front of the doors. 

“I see you have my coat.”

“And I see you have mine.”

You slipped the coat off your shoulders as you walked towards her, the coat in your outstretched hand. “Here, you can have it back, I’m going back inside anyway.” 

“Y/n, please, just put it back on. I came out here to talk to you.” 

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about.” You shook your head. “Just take the coat so I can go inside.” 

Wanda pushed your hand back towards you. “Y/n, you’ve been exchanging looks with me all night. Let’s just talk about this.”

“What if I don’t want to talk about it, Wanda?” You replied, your tone a bit snappy. “Can’t you just accept that?”

“No, I can’t just accept that! You’ve been avoiding me all year and won’t say a word to me!” 

“And you never said a word to me, either!” You argued, shoving the coat into her hands. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

“Y/n, wait.” Wanda grabbed your arm lightly as you pushed past her. 

You wanted to yank your arm from her hands, but couldn’t do it as you took a step forward. You could feel your foot slip from underneath you, sending you down to the ground along with Wanda, who was still holding onto you. 

“Shit!” You groaned, falling onto your back, the ice cold and wet as it soaked into your dress and Wanda’s warm body landing on top of you, almost knocking the wind out of you. 

“Well, I guess this was one way of getting you to stay.” Wanda chuckled awkwardly, looking down at you. 

“Oh my god, get off of me!”

“Not until you let me talk to you!” 

“If I agree to let you talk to me, will you give me a coat to wear? I’m going to die of hypothermia out here.”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, then I’ll talk to you.” You agreed rather reluctantly. “That means you can get off of me now.”

Wanda blushed and nodded. “Oh, right! Right.” 

She rolled off of you, sitting up herself as she slipped off your jacket and handing it to you before putting her own back on. 

“Y/n, I just want to start by saying I’m really sorry for what happened last year. I really mean that. I know you’re upset that we never talked about it, and you have every right to be, but I need to tell you that I was never going to say no to you.”

“Your silence was enough of an answer.”

“I don’t know if you remember, but you didn’t just like confess your love to me, you kissed me first.”

“That was because we were under a mistletoe and Tony was drunkenly yelling at us to kiss!” 

“I know, but we can both agree that Tony only said that because he thought it would be a show. And we could’ve both say no, but we didn’t.”  Wanda corrected, sighing softly as she looked up at the sky. “So, you can understand my surprise when you told me you reciprocated the feelings I had for you. That I had been having for you.”

“But, you never-”

“Said anything, I know. And I had never planned on saying anything. I just thought I would keep it to myself until something happened and when it did, I froze. I didn’t know what to say and while I was standing there, tripping over my words as I tried to find the right ones, you ran away from me, crying.” 

You tried to think back to the moment, but you couldn’t remember the exact details of it all. All you could remember was your drunk tears staining Natasha’s sleeve and sleeping on the bathroom floor. 

“I never meant to hurt your feelings by not saying anything,” Wanda continued, “but you had ran away before I could tell you how I felt and by the time I finally had the chance to say anything, when I had found the right words, you had already locked yourself away and wouldn’t talk to me.” 

“But, Wanda, you had so much time to talk to me, so many chances. Why didn’t you?” 

“Because I couldn’t just swallow my own pride and explain myself. I felt that it was easier having you hate me than tell you how I felt and have you reject me like you thought I had done to you.” 

You could see a tear fall from Wanda’s glossy eyes. You wanted so desperately to reach out and touch her, to tell her it was okay, but you weren’t sure it was. 

“Wanda-”

“I know you probably don’t feel the same, and that’s fine, but I just want you to know that I did feel the same way and I still do. I couldn’t get over it, or over you.” She sniffed softly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she began to stand up. “I should probably go. I won’t hold you hostage any longer.”

She walked past you slowly, trying not to slip on the ice as you grabbed her hand quickly. She looked down at you, just as shocked by the gesture as you were. 

“Wait, please.” You begged, standing up slowly. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions and I also should’ve been more forgiving and understanding of the position I put you in.” 

“Y/n, you shouldn’t have to apologize.”

“No, I want to.” You insisted, looking down at your hand that was still in hers. “I also want to say that I never got over you, either. I just couldn’t. I like you a lot, Wanda. I always have.” 

You could hear her laugh softly, watching her feet as she took a step towards you and grabbed your face with her free hand. 

“I don’t think you understand how much I have been dying for you to say that.” She smiled, lifting your face up to look at her.

You mirrored her smile, leaning into her hand as you took a step towards her, only for your foot to slip once more. You grabbed her by the coat, pulling the other girl down with you, once again having you in the same position she did earlier. 

“We have got to stop ending up like this.” Wanda giggled, her hands rested beside the two sides of your head. 

“Just shut up and kiss me already.” 

Wanda smiled, leaning in close to you before you leaned forward, connecting your lips. 

You could feel yourself melt into her, smiling softly into the kiss as she pushed herself into you. 

“Sorry I took so long there was a super long line to the bathr-” Natasha cut herself off as she walked onto the patio. “Oh. Sorry.” 

You pulled away from Wanda quickly, looking at Natasha with wide eyes. 

“I’m just gonna-” Natasha pointed to the door, turning on her heel and walking away as Wanda fell into a fit of giggles, rolling off of you. 

“That was embarrassing.” You blushed. 

“Oh, lighten up.” Wanda smiled, pulling you close once more.

[taetaespeaches]

“This is weird, isn’t it?”

namjoon x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 3.4K

a/n: This is where shit gets weird between Joon and Daisy (so, like right away). The morning after their supposed to be one-night stand in “Lead the way, Dimples”, they realize that they don’t want it to be a one time deal. Therefore, Joon asks Daisy to stay at his place before he leaves to work... like who does that? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 

TOMORROW’S problem. Those were the words playing inside your head as you fell asleep in the arms of the man who was meant to be a one-night stand. Well, “tomorrow’s problem” had turned into “today’s problem” and you had no idea how to handle the problem.

Peeling your eyes open slowly, you were met with the sun beams shining through the blinds, casting Namjoon’s chest in a golden glow that made his skin look even more gorgeous than it was in the moonlight. His exposed skin reminded you of his and your own nakedness, further reminding you of the previous night.

The sex was good. Really fucking good. That’s why I stayed the night, you thought to yourself. It had nothing to do with the way every touch he laid upon your body felt like it was meant for you, not only in this lifetime but in all your past existences. No, because relationships are messy and love never works out the way lovers want it to.  

But his body was so warm and comforting pressed against your own. And he snored and for some reason you found that endearing. You watched the rise and fall of his chest, simultaneously hoping he’d wake up in that moment so you could speak to him in the light of day, while also wishing he’d stay in slumber as to prolong the inevitable walk of shame. What a shame that walk would be, leaving behind something, someone, that felt so right. No, this is just a hook up.

As Namjoon stirred, a groan rumbling against his chest as the snoring cut out, you didn’t know whether you should alert him to your consciousness or if you should take the cowardly option and feign sleep. Well, you never did claim to be brave. Shutting your eyes, you attempted to keep your body still, but relaxed, as if you were still asleep and blissfully unaware of the pending awkwardness that was to ensue.

“Babe?” Namjoon suddenly asked, his voice sexy in all its morning roughness, especially when calling you that simple term of endearment. When you didn’t respond, the man chuckled. “I know you’re awake,” he told you, your body tensing as you held your breath. Defeatedly, you lifted your face from his chest to look up at him, finding him smiling at you with an arm tucked under his head for support.

“How did you know?” You pouted, trying to play off your childish act. “Is my acting that bad?” You asked, hoping to joke your way out of the impending tension.

Namjoon smiled widely, shaking his head. “No, it’s just,” he paused as you tucked your hand underneath your chin against his chest. “You snore,” he told you, you holding back an embarrassed smile as the man unabashedly laughed at your expression.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out, dropping your forehead to his chest, the man letting out an adorable but teasing laugh.

“It’s really cute,” he complimented, you groaning as the man continued to chuckle at you.

“You snore too,” you retorted, lifting your head to look at him again, meeting his fond smile. Your hair had fallen into your face just slightly, the man gently reaching to tuck the strand behind your ear.

“I’ve been told,” he agreed, you raising your eyebrows in question.

“Other sleeping partners?” You asked brazenly, secretly hoping you were wrong. No, get a grip. He’s a hook up.

“No,” he chuckled. “No, I actually don’t do this,” he gestured to your nude bodies with a nod of his head, “very often.” You hummed in understanding, ignoring the ache in your chest at the reminder that this was just a one-time thing. The man ran his hand over top your hair before settling it on your shoulder blade, massaging your shoulder gently.

“That’s surprising to me,” you told him with a flirty edge in your tone, the man humming in wonder. “I just mean, you’re hot,” you smiled, “and really good.”

You watched as he smiled bashfully, dimples on full display as he squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck you were smitten. A hook up. “Well, no,” he said again through his smile. “I don’t really do this kind of thing often.”

Observing him thoughtfully, you found yourself wanting to know more about him. “And why don’t you?” You asked him, the man’s smile slowly fading as he stared down at you.

“I’m not very good at it,” he said bashfully, you pulling a look of disagreement.

“I would have to disagree, Dimples,” you told him through a smile, the man squeezing his eyes shut with an embarrassed chuckle.

“I mean, I just prefer connecting with people,” he said simply, but the words echoed in your thoughts for days after he spoke them. Partially because of the endearing fact that he was as good looking and successful as he was, he still wanted pure connection with the people he slept with. But perhaps also because you knew there was a connection between you both, no matter how much you wanted to deny it.

Gently, he grabbed your waist, guiding you to roll onto your side as he rolled onto his as well so you were facing each other. “Hey,” he whispered, now that your faces were level with each other’s.  

“Hi,” you whispered back with a fond smile.

Reaching out to cradle your jaw in his hand, he soothed his thumb over your cheek. The action felt so intimate, especially for the morning after a hook up, but it also felt comfortable. Leaning into his touch, you found yourself craving more of his simple affections. It is just a hook up.

“Wait, who complains about your snoring?” You suddenly asked, a smile nearly spreading across Namjoon’s face before it was quickly replaced by a look of panic.

“Fuck, my members,” he said suddenly, sitting up quickly as he reached for his phone. “Shit,” he huffed, “I’m gonna be late.”

“Oh fuck,” you sat up as well, holding the blankets to your chest. “I’m off today, I didn’t even think-”

“No, no, no, it’s not your fault,” he assured you, pressing a quick peck to your lips, the casualness of the action taking you by surprise. Is this just a hook up?

You watched as he scrambled out of the bed, clumsily, appreciating the view of his bare body before he pulled some clothing on. It was really unfair that he looked just as good dressed up in the baggy cargo pants and sweatshirt as he did nude. Of course he had to be effortlessly stylish as well. Just add it to the whole fucking package he was shaping up to be.

“To answer your question,” he started as he looked around the room for certain belongings. “My members complain about my snoring all the time. Since I got my own place and therefore don’t stay at the dorm as much, the complaining has lessened, but I still get teased.”

“Ah,” you said in realization, nodding as you watched him throw a laptop into his bag.

“I’m surprised you got any rest,” he laughed at himself, squeezing his eyes together as he did, you smiling adoringly at the expression.

“I’m a deep sleeper,” you told him through your smile. “It kind of seems like we were made to sleep together,” you teased, not sure why you spoke the words when this was supposed to just be a hook up.

Finally making the connection that he was about to leave for work and you were still naked in his bed, you moved to get up. “No, you don’t have to leave,” he told you quickly. “Take your time.” Wide-eyed, you observed him carefully. You couldn’t actually stay there, could you? I mean, I shouldn’t, right? He’s just a hook up. We just met, that would be really weird. Instead of listening to the voice of reason inside your head, you listened to Namjoon’s.

“So, you’re an idol, right?” You found yourself asking, curious of the job he was rushing out the door to get to.

“I am,” he nodded. “I hope that doesn’t freak you out,” he added, you shaking your head. “I would understand if it did.”

“I mean, it does a little but you’re just a person,” you started, Namjoon’s eyes softening as he stopped his busy movements to look at you. “A ridiculously handsome person, but a person,” you added, Namjoon laughing as he went back to cramming more items into the bag. “What’s your position?”

The man paused again as he watched you carefully for a moment, inspecting you from your spot on the bed. “Are you really interested?” He asked, your eyebrows pulling together curiously.

“Yeah,” you confirmed simply, Namjoon slowly nodding.

“I’m a rapper,” he told you. “And a leader,” he added a bit less confidently. “Songwriter and producer.”

“Wow, you do a lot,” you noted, impressed. “It suits you,” you agreed, Namjoon chuckling as he raised his eyebrows. “Now that you told me, I actually can’t see you in any other position.”

He smiled shyly as he zipped up the bag. “I want to know what you do too,” he told you as he slipped the bag’s strap over his shoulder.

“It’s not nearly as exciting,” you told him, Namjoon immediately shaking his head in disagreement.

“Maybe you can tell me about it when I get back?” He asked, walking toward you.

You should have said no. You should have said you were leaving. Why weren’t you dressed yet? With Namjoon getting closer and closer to you, you found yourself just sitting there lamely as you awaited the kiss he was obviously planning to give you by the way he seductively stared at your lips.

Inches from your face, he smiled. “Good morning, by the way,” he told you, you returning his smile as you inched your face just the slightest bit closer to him.

“Good morning, Dimples” you replied softly, just as Namjoon closed the gap, pressing his lips to yours for the second time that morning, though this one was much more passionate than the last as he deepened it almost instantly. The kiss was soft and his lips were perfectly plush. One kiss made you want more of them, and in that moment, his mouth working against your own, you didn’t care how strange this whole interaction was.

Maybe it isn’t just a hook up.

Breaking away from the kiss reluctantly, you placed a hand to his face, feeling his soft skin under your fingers. “You’ll be late.”

He hummed in frustration, resting his forehead against your own. “You can stay here,” he told you. “I mean it.”

“Namjoon,” you sighed, not sure of what to do.

“I’m leaving it up to you,” he told you, and you realized that he was. You could walk out that door and never come back, leaving not even a phone number or a single trace that you were ever there. And that respect he had for you to decide yourself may have been the very thing that drove you to kiss him once more, softly, already having made your mind up.

“Thank you,” you said simply, the elusive but appreciative comment making Namjoon smile as he pressed his lips to yours again, deepening the kiss but keeping it slow and passionate.

Breaking away, he hurried toward the bathroom . Sounds of rummaging, cabinets and drawers opening and closing, and the sound of the sink turning on and off echoed into the bedroom. Whereas you should have taken the moment of alone time to think over what the fuck you were still doing in your one-night stand’s bed, you instead got distracted by looking around the room, smiling fondly at the number of figurines that lined the walls.

Suddenly, Namjoon stepped back into the room with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. “Hey, I managed to find a new toothbrush,” he told you through his mouthful of toothpaste, “I’ll just leave it on the counter.” You nodded as he disappeared around the door frame again, only to pop back in immediately. “And feel free to take a shower,” he added, “if you want.”

“Ok,” you giggled as you watched him leave again. Searching around the bedroom floor, you tried to find all your pieces of clothing, spotting all but your panties when Namjoon walked back in.

“I have to go,” he told you, “but I’ll be back in a few hours.” You simply nodded at the man, watching as he neared you, easily slotting his lips against yours as if he had done it a thousand times before. Maybe he had, who were you to say he hadn’t kissed you in a million lifetimes before this one. He is a hook up, my god woman.

Pulling away just slightly so his lips hovered over top yours, he sighed against your mouth. “Please be here when I get back,” he begged with a desperate smile, you giggling at the expression as he backed away.

No other words were spoken between the both of you, you simply watching him back all the way out of the room, not wanting to look away from you just in case it was the last time he’d ever see you. And fuck did you look perfect tangled in his sheets with your bare shoulders exposed, a smitten smile plastered to your face.

He stared a moment longer before you smiled and shooed him away, the man’s dimples indenting his cheeks as he forced himself to leave. The front door opened and closed a few moments later, leaving you alone in his apartment, which was a trusting move from the man. You adored the slight naivity he seemed to possess and it made you want to stick around even more. This is obviously not just a hook up. Fuck.

Rising from the bed, you held the sheet to your body as you walked around his bedroom, observing the different figurines and toys, along with the countless notebooks piled upon his table. The leather spines of the journals were worn, evidence to how much they’d been used.

Meandering back to the bed, you caught sight of the books stacked on his bedside table. You had a similar situation on your bedside table, or more appropriately known as the storage table for your favorite novels, stories, and poems.

Intrigued by the title of one of the books, “Sky, Wind, and Stars”, a collection of poems by Yun Dong-ju, you pulled it out from between two thicker books, inspecting the back cover as you lowered yourself back to the mattress.

Opening the collection, you began reading the foreword, already interested in the rest of the works. You read the first few poems, taking in the formation of the carefully selected words. However, what really captured your attention was the pen markings on the pages, underlining and placing small stars next to certain stanzas and sentences.

In the poem, At the Summit, a work about reaching the summit of a mountain and looking down on the small landscape and people below, the line, “I yearn to climb to higher ground” was underlined.

In the poem, Contemplation, the words, “My eyes are loosely shut like a small push-out window. Tonight, love seeps in everywhere, like the dark,” were starred.

“Alas! The field has become desolate — what tears and sobbing! The dream has been shattered; the tower has collapsed” were the lines underlined in A Dream Shattered.

In Mountain Forest, the lines, “When the ticking of the clock beats in my heart, I grow anxious and the forest on the mountain calls me… only the stars twinkling through the trees lead me to hope for a new day,” were underlined and starred.

On a lighter note, in the poem, Doves, “Seven little mountain doves, so adorable, I wish I could hold them in my arms,” were underlined. Cute, you thought.

“But there is no one to talk with tonight,” in the poem Water from the Depths of a Mountain Valley; “I inhale deeply on this placid morning, again and again,” in Morning; “I long to walk to places I am familiar with, and perhaps to those I am unfamiliar with,” in the poem titled Grief; “On a still night, when the moon waxes like the rings of a growing tree, love, alone like the moon, grows like such aging rings, filling my heart to aching,” in Like the Moon.

Your favorite, the one that stopped you for a moment as you thought of the man you already knew so intimately, was from the poem What do they live on?

“People by the sea eat the fish they catch. People in the valleys of the mountains eat the potatoes they roast. People on the stars — what do they live on?”

Reading through the poems, paying special attention to the words that were given special emphasis by Namjoon’s pen, you realized the fear Namjoon lived with that he would never feel as though he achieved enough, or that he would achieve too much, and then what happens when it inevitably disappears? Would love catch his fall? Or would he be alone?

A Poem That Came Easily made you think of Namjoon working on music. The accolades he must receive in conjunction to the sacrifices. How music must be the one thing he knows he got right, but how much he must miss out on due to a life dedicated to his work.  

“Life is meant to be difficult: is it too bad that a poem comes so easily to me… Extending a small hand to myself, I offer myself the very first handshake, tears, and condolences,” the poem read.  

The poem Self Portrait made your heart hurt to read, and you wanted Namjoon to walk through the door so you could hug him.

“And a man is there. I turn my away because I hate the man, somehow. Pondering over him as I set out to leave, I feel sorry for him and go back and look in: he is still there.”

You’d known the man for a grand total of about 12 hours and you already knew the man was beyond worthy of love. How could he not see that in himself?

You didn’t mean to read the entire collection of poems, but as you flipped the last page, you closed the book, deep in thought. And every single thought circling your mind was of Namjoon. A desire to explore his mind struck you and you immediately regretted sleeping with the man upon first meeting. Would you ever be able to be anything more than sexually intimate? Love never works the way lovers want it to, you thought. If you let Namjoon in, you’d be setting yourself up for heartache, you just knew it. But even still, you wanted to know him and you wanted him to know you.

By the time you had taken a shower, the scent of his products taking you back to the previous night, you realized you didn’t have a change of clothes. Wandering around his living room in nothing but a towel you found in a cupboard, you thought about how fucking weird this whole situation was. Why didn’t you leave? I don’t even know this man—

And just when you thought Namjoon couldn’t get any more endearing, you spotted the plants lined up along his window, interrupting your thoughts momentarily. There was a good amount of them, all meticulously trimmed. They were cared for deeply by their gardener, that much was obvious.  Their gardener…

Were you just prolonging the inevitable separation from Namjoon by sticking around? You both entered into the previous night with the understanding that it was a one-time thing. But there you were, still in his apartment, and he wasn’t even home. This was weird, people didn’t just do this. Panicking, you decided you needed to leave, striding across the living room in a bee line to get dressed and get out, just when the front door opened.

Snapping your head toward the entrance, you and Namjoon met eyes and a relieved smile spread across his face. Suddenly, you remembered why you stayed.

“You’re here,” he breathed out, as if he had been holding it since he left earlier that morning.

“I am,” you confirmed dumbly. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

“Very,” he chuckled. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

He stayed in the entry way of his apartment for a moment, simply staring at you as if he was making sure he didn’t conjure you up through the power of wishful thinking. Cocking your head at him, you shrugged.

“Welcome home, Dimples.”

[bookishofalder]

hi! i just recently found ur account and love it💞💞 can i request adam driver x reader and they are dating. reader is a bit younger and he gets jealous over one of her guy friends bc he thinks she deserves someone younger than him. & it ends super fluffy :)

@avengxrs423​

Yay, my first request! Thank you so much for the kind words. This was fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Doubts

Pairing- Adam Driver X FemReader

Summary: Adam has always been aware of the age gap he has with his fiance. He tries to move past it, but a chance meeting with your famous old friend brings the worry crashing back.

Warnings: Language, insecurity, mild smut, paparazzi. WC-2,700

“Mr. Driver, over here! Miss (Y/L/N), this way!” Adam followed you out of the car, thanking the driver, his eyes on you as the crowd of reporters and paparazzi lined either side of the walkway into the restaurant. It was always these sorts of outings, where the press knew he’d be in attendance to a new hot spot, that made him nervous. Wary of how easily you could be accosted, even injured. He was nothing if not protective of you.

Standing closely next to you, Adam places his hand on your lower back, joining you in smiling around for the cameras as you slowly moved forward. His security team had the doors open ahead of you, mere steps away.

“Have you set a date for the wedding yet?”

“Let’s see the ring again, Miss. (Y/L/N)!”

“Mr. Driver, what do you have to say to fans who find the age gap between you to be too much?”

Adam worked actively not to react to the last question, his body tensing. When he looked down at you, he found you were already watching him, the glamorous smile still dazzling everyone, but he read the caution in your eyes. When you were both through the doors and they shut behind you, he began to breathe a little more freely, casting the reporter's rude question out of his mind.

He was taking you on a date and wanted to make sure the evening was special. His publicist had set it up, as this new restaurant was the current ‘place to be and be seen’ in New York City. While Adam could care less, he knew fans everywhere were chomping at the bit to see more of him and you together, in New York especially.

The makeup artist who won the movie star’s heart. It was a major headline when you first started dating publicly, which made you both laugh as Adam had to work to convince you he was interested, in the beginning. Newly engaged now, Adam could see the romance of it, could understand why fans enjoyed the story. But he hated, absolutely despised, how every damn article made sure to mention, directly or not, the age gap between the two of you.

He had had no intention of falling in love with anyone he worked with, he hadn’t been actively seeking-but you had shown up one day one and after one brief conversation, he was smitten. His feelings only grew over the two years you worked together, but he had hesitated greatly in acting on them, solely because you were 10 years younger than him.

When you finally got together, he felt like the luckiest man, that you would love him back, age be damned. You were cautious at first, eventually believing he genuinely wanted to be with you, not just have a fling. He had waited four months into the relationship to make it public (which was no easy feat, but you were supportive through all of it), and of course, the articles started on pointing it out straight away, some going as far as to point out where you were when he was enlisted in the Marines, or graduating Juilliard.

You told him it didn’t matter, repeatedly. And never got mad at him for fixating when a particularly brutal article was released. He had felt guilty many times that you had to comfort and reassure him so consistently, yet it made him love you even harder. And life went on, happily, your relationship solid.

When news broke that he had proposed, the articles started up with renewed fervour. He had been trying to hide from you just how much this upset him, how the doubt was creeping back into his mind...

Tonight was meant to be a sophisticated, romantic evening that served the double purpose of getting Adam press coverage before heading back to L.A. As you were shown to your table by the excited owner, Adam watched you chatting away with her, complimenting their design and success. You wore a beautiful hunter green dress made of satin, it fell to just above your knees and complimented your glowing skin perfectly. He was enraptured by you, whether your wore sweatpants, a dress-and especially when you wore nothing. Green was his favourite colour on you.

At the table reserved for the two of you, Adam helped you take your seat, his hand brushing gently against your hair, before taking his own. Annie and the waiter who had appeared handed you the course descriptions, before asking if you had any dietary needs. “Thank you so much, Annie-honestly just tell the chef we’re game for anything!” You said, grinning. Annie winked before setting off to the kitchen.

Adam nodded politely at the waiter, who took their drink orders, before sweeping away, finally giving him time to study you. “How do you like it?” He gestured around them, at the dark lit, moody and stylish venue. It was busy, filled mainly with notable celebrities, though he hadn’t seen anyone he’d met before. He hoped you liked it, not being one for going out to fancy dinners-you were a homebody, preferring to curl up with a good book.

“Adam, this is great! We haven’t been to a dinner like this in forever, and did you hear what Annie said?” You gushed, beaming, and Adam felt his worries washing away, “13 courses! 13! You’re going to have to carry me out of here, babe.”

“I’m fine with that,” He replied, enjoying the flush that spread across your cheeks. “But let’s be honest, you’re going to end up giving me half your food, pretty girl, you always do.”

You pouted, “I’m making a renewed effort tonight, just wait.”

Adam laughed, and the two of you settled in, the conversation flowing as you discussed the upcoming film Adam was starring in, of which you were working as his artist. The food was, as expected, incredible. Adam loved how you took a photo of each plate, even though neither of you had social media accounts. You still took photos of all the food you ate, just for the fun of it, or as you told him ‘simply to document our adventures!’.

It was around the ninth course that the evening took a turn.

A commotion at the doors captured the attention of some of the patrons. Adam glanced up, but from where your table was, he couldn’t see much. The paparazzi outside were shouting too loudly to decipher what they were saying, so it wasn’t until Adam saw your friend walk in, his brother and friend in tow, that he knew his mood was about to shift.

Tom Holland was one of the first celebrities you had worked with when you started working in L.A. And he’d always kept in touch, even when his own fame skyrocketed and before you were public with Adam. And actually, Adam did like the kid-he was beyond well mannered and genuine, and from the stories you had told, a very considerate friend. Tom’s glowing recommendation of your work was part of the reason Disney had hired you on for the Star Wars films, which was how Adam had met you.

Really, Adam had no reason not to love Tom Holland and be happy to see him arrive with his brother Harry and friend Harrison. It was just the minor, ridiculous concern Adam had that, being close in age, you and Tom were more much suited for one another. A concern that had poisoned his mind for your entire relationship.

Seeing his eyes over your shoulder, you turned to look where Adam had been and exclaimed in delight when you saw your friend. Adam quickly arranged his features to match yours, nerves shooting through him. Tom spotted you when you stood, in all your dazzling beauty, and grinned before making a beeline towards your table. The owner, Annie, had been leading the men to a nearby table and stood back politely while you all greeted one another.

“(Y/N), love! How are you?” Tom gave you a hug, “And Adam, good to see you mate!” Adam took his offered hand, giving a quick handshake. (Y/N) hugged the other two, chatting amicably.

“Good to see you, Tom-hi Harry, Harrison,” Adam greeted the other two before placing his hand on your lower back. Inwardly, he felt more stable in doing this, but he worried it would look possessive. If you thought so, you made no objection, stepping a little closer to his side while you beamed at your friends.

“I didn’t realize you’d be in New York this week, Tom!” You said, smacking his arm playfully.

Tom held his hands up as if in surrender, “It was completely last minute, just stopping off for two days before we head to L.A.” He glanced between the two of you, “I nearly forgot-congratulations again on the engagement! This is the first time I’ve seen you both in person since!”

Adam smiled, “We really appreciated the gift you sent, Tom-that was too kind.” And it had been quite the gift, in addition to a beautiful and extravagant flower arrangement, Tom had made a personal donation to Adam’s charity, Arts in the Armed Forces, and shared the charity on his social media. They’d had an influx of new donations from his fans and followers.

“Arts in the Armed Forces is incredibly important to Adam and me, Tom-you really knocked that gift out of the park.” (Y/N) agreed, her arm snaking around Adam’s waist with affection.

Tom waved off their thanks good-naturedly, “Well, we’re going to leave you to what looks very delicious-Annie, I’ll have what Adam and (Y/N) are having!” Tom grinned briefly at the owner, “And we’re still on for lunch when you both come to L.A. Next week, yeah?”

After assuring Tom they’d see him soon and bidding their farewells, Adam and you sat back down, diving back into your food. You chatted happily about bumping into Tom, which quickly transitioned into excitement for returning to L.A., as the cold of January in New York City was getting a little old for you both. You loved it here, were all too happy to call it home when your relationship escalated and Adam asked you to live with him. And though you both spent a lot of time away from your New York brownstone, it was always going to be home.

Adam worked to enjoy the rest of the evening, but he’d rather lost his appetite, the food tasteless on his tongue. Because seeing Tom had brought the wave of insecurity crashing back down on Adam, that you were too good for him, too young, that you deserved someone better, to be with someone who smiled more easily and with whom you shared more in common with. He knew you loved him, but his brain kept asking-did you realize what you could have if you broke up?

When you climbed into the car after dinner, having said warm goodbyes to Tom and his party and touring the kitchen with Annie to thank the chef and his team, Adam’s smile dropped. He sat back in his seat, confirming with the driver that he could take them home, before dropping his head against the headrest and closing the divider between the front and back seats.

“Adam?” Your voice cut through the silence after only a few moments, concern evident in your tone.

Adam glanced down at you next to him, softening when he looked into your wide eyes, “Sorry, sweetheart, what’s up?”

You frowned, turning in your seat to face him more directly, “I want you to tell me what’s up, you’ve been in a funny mood half the night-you okay?”

“I’m alright, just tired-that was a lot of food over a long time.” He shrugged, looking away. For a moment, he thought you were going to leave it at that, but he should have known better; one of the reasons he adored you was your commitment to being the most stubborn person in the room. In an instant, you undid your seatbelt and slid from your seat, carefully climbing over him so that you could straddle his lap, all of his attention now on you.

Adam’s hands went to your hips instinctively to hold you steady, as you glared at him, “Babe, I know you’re not saying it, and I don’t want you to feel forced here, but I thought we’d talked about this.” The car hit a minor bump and you sank into his lap, nearly bumping heads, from the force.

He gripped your hips tighter, “We did, I just...I can’t help it, I feel like-like I’m holding you back.” He murmured with his eyes on your stomach, shame flooding through him.

You sighed, not without affection, “Holding me back from what, exactly? You are my everything, Adam, and without you...I can’t even begin to imagine my life without you.”

You slid your hands from his chest to his neck, where they rested gently, thumbs brushing across the lower half of his jaw. Adam closed his eyes briefly, “But if you did imagine it, properly, you might see that someone like Tom-I mean, he’s your age, goes to more parties and events, you’d have more fun-“

Your mouth was on his, cutting off Adam’s words, his mind going blank. The feel of you against him, your lips on his, was more than enough to render him speechless. After a moment, you pulled back, your cheeks flushed and expression serious, “I understand that sometimes, we notice the age gap a little more because the press thinks it’s interesting, but Adam, I need you to understand. I need you to see just how much I do not care about any of that, what they say or think or even about the actual difference in our ages! I never think about it, because it has no effect whatsoever on how fucking madly in love with you I am.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands, holding his gaze.

“I-I love you too, so much, pretty girl,” He sighed, his emotions raw, “I just want the best for you, always.”

“You are the best for me, which is why I said yes to marrying you when you got down on one knee, in our apartment, wearing nothing but those ridiculous shorts. It’s why I’d say yes, again and again, Adam. Do you think I like going to parties? That I don’t have fun with you?” Your voice raised slightly in exasperation, while Adam stared at you in wonder; you’d never been so passionate about this before-despite having had the conversation many times, “I have an adventure every single day with you, I love everything about our lives together, and honestly, babe...” Your voice lowered considerably, a soft breathy croon now, “I can’t picture a guy like Tom treating me how you do, knowing exactly what I need from a man, always taking such good care of me.”

She punctuated these words by grinding against him, her eyes darkening in arousal. Adam groaned at the sensation, “Pretty girl, you’re too good for me.”

(Y/N) smiled at Adam, “No, I’m just right for you and you’re just right for me.”

“Damn it, I love you!” He gasped, before sliding one hand from your hip to the back of your neck and pulling you close, his lips on yours before you could reply. You let out a small whimper, melting into him. Your arms circled around his neck, and Adam could feel the intent in your body, the overwhelming need to send him the message that he was yours, and you-you were his.

“I love you, Adam, forever.” You sighed against his lips, deepening the kiss further.

All thoughts that weren’t of (Y/N) kissing him in the back of their town car, soared from Adam’s mind. His new focus on getting you home, so that he could show you just how much he appreciated your patience and understanding. And as you shivered from his touch, his name on your lips, you successfully and unknowingly convinced Adam his doubts were unwarranted, that you loved him endlessly, as he loved you.

[emf005]

Like Me For Me Part I

Marauders Era

Sirius x Reader

Warnings- Talk of abuse, mentions of death

Part 1 out of 3

“Come on, Y/N/N,” your friend pleaded. “You know you want to go.” You thought about it for a moment as you five walked down the hall.

“No. No, I really don’t think I want to. Not in the slightest.” She huffed and folded her arms across her chest. Marleen was one of the prettiest and most popular girls in your grade. You were the opposite of her. Her and the rest of your friends actually.

It wasn’t that you weren’t pretty. You were actually drop dead gorgeous. You liked that, actually. That you were pretty. But you also hated it. You hated that you were pretty and fashionable with every fiber of your being.

Your friends knew you were fashionable and beautiful, and they often urged you to show it like you helped them do. Be popular like them and not just ‘that one girl… oh what's her name?’ But you liked being her. Big glasses, that were faker than fake, oversized sweaters that hung off your body and leggings and sweatpants and jeans that barely even touched your legs they were so baggy. If you weren’t in your school uniform that's what you were in. And your hair.. Well… that was always just naturally a mess. You normally just threw it up into a messy bun or ponytail.

“Come on, Y/N. The winter ball this year is supposed to be the grandest there has ever been! You already promised to help us get ready. Why won’t you just go?” Cora asked. She was a Hufflepuff in your year. Yet again, very pretty and very popular.

“Because I don’t want to. You all have handsome dates who are beyond thrilled to go with you and I have my studying in the library.”

“Which will be closed!” Darla squeaked. She was a small rounder Ravenclaw with deep black hair. But still considered one of the prettiest girls in school. She was going with Peter Pettigrew to the dance. And you couldn’t have thanked god enough. That's all she talked about was that boy.

“Thank you, captain obvious,” you hummed and flourished your robes dramatically to leave and head to the black lake for Care of Magical Creatures. “Good afternoon everyone. I’ll see you all at dinner. Perhaps.” You added at the end, sounding mysterious. You may or may not read far to many mysteries in your spare time.

Your friends rolled their eyes and left you to go down on your own. As you headed down you saw your other close, very beautiful, friend Lily Evans.

“Lily!” She turned and waved at you. You jogged down the hill and skidded to a halt before you tripped over a rock. “What's up?” You asked, not even close to out of breath despite the distance you had just run.

“Nothing. You?”

“Oh, just headed down to C.O.M.C.”

“No one is going to start calling it that,” she hummed as you two continued down.

“I know. And I don't really care, either. It just gets tiring saying that entire phrase all the time. C.O.M.C. is much easier in my opinion, thank you very much.” You said with a nod. She rolled her eyes.

“Whatever you say. Are you coming to the Christmas dance?”

“Absolutely not. I’m still helping you with hair and make up though, right?”

“You’re letting her help you with your makeup and hair, Evans?” Narcissa Black scoffed. You looked down at your shoes and frowned. So you may dress down to take attention away from yourself. What you didn't realize was that that would call attention to other things. Girls would then call you ugly and unstylish, which was the biggest insult of them all. But at least men weren’t prancing on you, right?

“Oh shove off, Narcissa.” A voice called from a ways down the path. You looked up and saw Sirius, James, and Remus looking over their shoulders at the three of you. “Like you have much more style.”

Was that supposed to be a double edged sword? Was that supposed to stab both Narcissa and I?

You couldn't help but wonder.

Sirius Black. The boy you have had a crush on for the longest time. I mean, who hasn’t. Marleen often told you to go try your luck, but you wouldn’t dare. You were far too cautious for that. Love and dating was a matter you took very seriously. You weren’t just going to date because you wanted to. You wanted it to be a mutual liking of each other. Well, a bit more of a mutual liking.

And while you had a crush on that boy, he had a reputation of just dating to date. Or one night stands or one week stands. Even just leaving the girls crushed and throwing themselves at him long after they had broken up. But you didn't like him because he was popular, like them. Or that he was gorgeous (Because he certainly was). No. You liked him because of his personality. Which, with teen hormones, wasn’t something that often happened.

Narcissa sneered at her cousin but made no further comment and just stormed away. You turned your attention to the ground again and scurried off towards the class. You weren't shy. You normally would greet the boys even though none of you really talked. Except you and Remus. You two were quite close. But Sirius’ comment stung a bit and you really couldn't face them. Lily and the boys watched you go and she sighed with a shake of her head.

The boys watched in confusion. Well, James and Sirius did. Remus knew what had happened, he had actually been the first to figure out your crush on him, even before you had figured it out yourself. He knew that you were quite fashionable and took pride in your work of your friends’ appearances when they asked you to do their makeup or their hair. Or even help pick out a perfect outfit that was both stylish and practical for their activities for the day. And he also knew how much comments like ones both Sirius and Narcissa made hurt you.

“What was that about?” James asked as he watched you drop your bag and settle on the grass away from the class. “I mean. I know we aren’t her friends really, but she normally gives us a wave or something.”

“Aren’t you her friend, Rem?” Sirius asked, slinging his bag further on his shoulder as they headed down to the lake.

“Yeah.”

“Is she mad at you?”

“No.”

“Then what was that about?”

“Missing the attention?” Lily teased. She had Remus had suspicions that Sirius actually liked you back, but had never mentioned it to more than each other.

“Ha!” he scoffed. “I have all the attention of the entire school, Evans. Why would I miss one from.. What?” She and Remus were looking at him the exact same way. “What's with the looks? Why is it coming from the both of you? James, help, I’m scared.” James laughed. Lily rolled her eyes and walked past.

“Your boyfriend can’t save you from everything Sirius. Least of all me.” She called over her shoulder and headed to sit by you. You had pulled out your sketchbook and were doodling.

“Am I the only one lost?”

“No.” James responded, making googly eyes at Lily. Both Remus and Sirius rolled their eyes at that.

“Who can tell me about Nifflers?” Your professor asked. Your hand shot up, Lily’s followed a moment later. You two rivaled in everything school related. (a healthy, playful rivalry. It was one of the reasons you two were friends.) Though, you were often a bit better at Care of Magical Creatures and she was often better at Potions.

“Miss. Y/L/N.”

“Nifflers are attracted to shiny objects, which make them wonderful for locating treasure, but that also means that they can wreak havoc if kept (or set loose) indoors. Nifflers in general are usually harmless. They are native to Britain and live in burrows as deep as twenty feet below ground, the females can produce six to eight young in a single litter. Nifflers have a pouch on their bellies which holds far more than at first seemed possible, like the effects of an Undetectable Extension Charm on a container. Nifflers were gentle by nature and can even be affectionate towards their owners. However, they could destroy belongings looking for sparkly objects, and for that reason it is inadvisable to keep them as a house pet. It is also implied that they could turn vicious if provoked.”

“Very good, Miss. Y/L/N. Ten points to Gryffindor.” You smiled at the praise, needing a boost today.

“Try Miss. Know-it-all.” You heard someone grumble from beside you. No one else, including Lily, heard. But being mocked like that was still better than the so-called “praise” you would get if you let your beauty show through.

You tucked your knees closer to your chest, unknowing of the eyes on you from the other side of the area. They were not mocking or angry or anything even close. They were actually close to admiration, if not that.

You sat by Marleen and Lily in the Great Hall eating dinner. Classes had finally ended, which meant no more classes. Only Homework. But yours was nearly done. You had gotten the majority of it done during Divinations. You “did not possess the gift” so she wouldn’t really assign Homework. And were you complaining? Hell no.

“You should really come, Y/N. Please! It will be so much fun! We would all have dates and we could all dance the night away in the arms of our dashing men,” she said dramatically. You rolled your eyes and shoved another fork full of food into your mouth.

“I don’t have a date yet,” Lily said.

“Didn’t James ask you and you said you’d think about it?” She didn’t say anything. The poor boy had finally grown up enough to win some of Lily's approval. If she would just say yes!

“Oh, just say yes to the poor boy, Lily! He looks like a wounded puppy every time you reject him. Especially this year! Just go as friends or something.”

“Only if you go.” You rolled your eyes and shoveled another fork full into your mouth.

“Firstly, no one would want to go with me. Second off, everyone already has a date.”

“Sirius doesn’t.” she hummed and you started to choke on your food, making her and Marleen laugh. The table looked over at the three of you, including the Marauders.

“NOT-Cough cough cough cough- funny!” You wheezed out.

“I’m being serious, no pun intended.”

“Lily, you heard what he said today during COMC. Think! No one wants to go out with me.”

“Oh come on, why would-”

“Mar, I swear to god, if you finish that sentence,” you stood up dramatically, “I will shove a fork down your throat and open up your voice box, got it?” She just stared at you with wide eyes and nodded. “Good. Good night ladies. I have work to do.” You left the table and headed to your dorm.

“So, who are you asking, Pads?” James asked, tossing the snitch he had nicked from the broom shed in the air.

“Probably just float around and dance with everyone. Everyone already has a date.” He shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich. Remus then got a terrible idea.

“Why not ask Y/N?”

“Huh? Why?”

“She doesn’t have a date yet either.”

“That's shocking,” they heard someone mutter from down the table. They glared in that general direction.

“Nah. More fun to just float around.”

“Come on, Sirius. It could be fun. She seems alright.”

“Not my type.”

“You have a type? I thought your ‘type’ was female?” Remus asked. Sirius threw a bread roll at him.

“Yes. And she is not it. Smart is not exactly my idea of a fun night. If you know what I mean.” The three boys rolled their eyes at Sirius.

“She’s not like that, Sirius.” Remus defended you. “Come on. You might have fun. And it's not even like-” they heard coughing from down the table and looked down to see you choking on your food. Remus face palmed. He was trying to get you a date with your crush and here you were choking elegantly on your food.

Remus looked away from you and back at his friend, about to try and convince him again when he noticed something strange. Sirius had his cup raised to his lips, hiding his mouth, but he could still see the corners upturned and a fond look in his eyes.

The damn dog does like her! He thought.

“Come on Sirius. For me? She’s my friend and I want her to relax for a night.” Remus attempted. Sirius pulled his gaze away from you and turned to his friend and sighed dramatically.

“Fine! I’ll go ask her now. Happy?”

“Yes. But she’s leaving.” Sirius’ head whipped around just in time to see you disappear from the great hall. He grabbed his nearly finished sandwich and dashed out of the doors after you, eating as he went. He looked around once he got to the entry hall.

Where had you gone? And how had you disappeared so fast? He continued dating as he made his way up to the common room. Perhaps you had decided to turn in for the night?

In truth, Sirius didn't think he had a crush on you. He had an interest. Not a crush or an attraction. You were foreign to him. He knew Remus was right. You weren’t a stuck up know it all. And despite the crew you hung around, you didn’t act like a popular girl. You were kind, and smart, and the few jokes he had heard you cracking were genuinely funny that he had caught himself laughing quietly to himself at a few.

He had been out with Marleen a few times, but that wasn't anything to either of them. Just a bit of fun between friends. A date here, a make out session there. All because… Why not?

He caught you as you were headed up the stairs to your dorm.

“Y/L/N!” You turned and smiled a quiet smile at him.

“Hi, Sirius.” You leaned on the banister. “What's up?”

“You don’t have a date to the dance yet, do you?”

“No but-”

“Well do you want to go with me?” You were speechless and skeptical.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah I do.”

“Sirius, no. You really don’t. I bet Remus talked you into it.” His silence was enough of an answer for you. “Figured. Go with someone you want to go with, Sirius. You don’t want to damage your reputation by going with a muggle born nerd like me.” you smirked and turned to go upstairs again.

Had he just been turned down? That did not sit well with him. Not one bit. And the way you had called yourself a muggle born nerd didn’t sit well either.

“I actually do, and I won’t take no for an answer.” He saw you sigh.

“Sirius. I’m not even going.”

“But you're staying for break.”

“Well, yes…”

“So you could if you wanted to.”

“Well, yeah but-”

“So why don’t you want to?” You didn’t answer. How did you tell your crush that you didn’t want to look pretty or that you were too scared to be seen in anything other than sweats and a sweatshirt in public? “Y/N?”

“Uh… Yeah?”

“So, are we going?”

“I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Not at this stage in the game.. No.” You sighed.

“I’ll meet you at the staircase by the Great Hall at eight. No earlier. Deal?”

“It's a date.”

“No. It's a compromise. Technically I’m doing James a favor and your doing Remus a favor. I’m helping your friend and I’m helping yours. Good night, Sirius.” You left the room and disappeared into your room to write to your mum and ask her for one of your dresses from home. You weren’t about to ruin Sirius’ reputation to save your own hide. What could go wrong?

Sirius had been left speechless. That was the strangest and most reluctant acceptance that had ever happened to him. He was definitely giving Remus hell for this, though this did make him a bit more curious about you, he wouldn’t lie… to himself at least.

First Chapter done!! Make sure to check back for part 2!!!

[melanielocke]

Illicit Affairs

A while ago I wrote a fic about Alastair’s relationship with Charles and posted it on AO3 (titled Tolerate it there) 

The original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31293734

I rewrote it because some of the details were wrong and some parts I didn’t like anymore, so I’m posting the new one here. 

CW: toxic relationship, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), some of which sort of pressured (Since Alastair is a minor, it definitely cannot be considered consensual), mentions of alcoholism

It had been a long time since Alastair had visited the Paris Institute. Last time must have been the Herondale party when he was fourteen. It was a magnificent building, often said to be second only to the London Institute, and the second largest in Europe. He would be staying here for a year, away from his family. He’d pressed his parents about it for months. They’d thought he was too young for a travel year at sixteen, but after speaking of it with his mother he’d been allowed to go. Alastair guessed she felt sorry for him, being trapped at home again, and had decided he deserved a break.

Paris would be a chance to start over, or at least he hoped so. He’d thought the same of Shadowhunter Academy though, and what a disaster that had been… He didn’t quite dare hope here would be better, but he did know Charles Fairchild would be here and the few times they’d met he’d been very kind to him. Alastair had met him here, ironically, at the Herondale’s party when he was fourteen. Alastair had been so eager to impress powerful people, and Charles had seemed very impressed with his manners and his knowledge on shadowhunter politics. They’d started writing each other letters, and Charles had become Alastair’s first real friend. He certainly didn’t consider any of the boys from school his friends.

About a year ago Charles had sent him a copy of Machiavelli’s the Prince, which had become his favorite book. And recently Charles had informed him that he would move to Paris for a year to replace the head of the Institute, and had suggested he come there for his travel year. He was a bit young, that was true, but being so isolated wasn’t good for his progress and even his parents couldn’t deny that spending time with the consul’s eldest son was good for their family’s social standing.

He entered, carrying his bags with him. He’d tried to pack lightly, but Risa and his mother had added all kinds of things over the past week and now it was still heavy even for a trained shadowhunter to carry on his own.

‘You must be Mr. Carstairs,’ a woman said.

Judging from her dress and lack of runes, Alastair guessed she must be one of the mundane servants here.

‘That’s right,’ he said.

‘I’m Madeleine,’ she said, ‘I’m a maid here. Come, I’ll show you to your room.’

He followed the servant woman to a bedroom, where Alastair dropped his bags. Madeleine left him there to unpack, and Alastair took his time. He hated mess, and preferred it when everything had its proper place. He’d packed a few of his favorite daggers, and took them out, looking carefully for a proper place for them.

After a while he noticed someone was standing in the doorway. Familiar red hair, styled carefully, and dressed in a stylish grey suit. Charles Fairchild. He didn’t look much like his younger brother, and although everyone was always fussing about Matthew’s looks, Alastair preferred Charles’ serious face, the way he dressed like someone powerful instead of like a clown.

‘Look at you, all grown up,’ Charles said. ‘It’s been a while, Alastair. I’m glad to see you arrived.’

Alastair hadn’t seen Charles in person in over a year. He still looked very handsome, and Alastair was glad he was here. Everything was better than being home around his father.  

‘I’m glad to see you too,’ Alastair said. ‘Congratulations on making interim head of the institute.’

‘Thanks. It is a great opportunity for me. I feel like every shadowhunter politician should have some experience at an institute. Growing up in Idris leaves one a bit sheltered from the harsh realities of Shadowhunter life, I’m afraid.’

Alastair wondered where his childhood fit in. He certainly hadn’t grown up somewhere safe and sheltered, but if it made him a better Shadowhunter he had no idea.

‘That’s why many shadowhunters take a travel year, don’t we?’ Alastair said.

‘Exactly. I lived in London myself before coming here, although of course that is where my family is from and demonic activity there is exceptionally low. Come, I’ll show you around the institute. I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks myself, but I have figured out the lay out.’

Charles showed him around, leading him to the main hall where most of the meetings were held.

‘You’re not yet old enough to be in enclave meetings, are you?’ Charles asked.

‘I will turn seventeen in a month,’ Alastair said. ‘So no, not yet.’

‘Shame, I think you would do well. Of course, I will give you permission to come and watch. That way, you’ll still learn plenty.’

Did Charles really think he would do well?

‘You’re very mature for your age,’ Charles continued. ‘Nothing like my brother. I can’t believe you’re only sixteen.’

Alastair did not want to discuss Charles’ younger brother, but was flattered Charles thought he was mature. Of course, he had to be, since he’d had to take care of his father from a young age. Being young and immature was a luxury Alastair did not have, unlike Matthew Fairchild.

‘I think I would like to watch enclave meetings,’ Alastair said.

Charles showed him to the training rooms next, and asked him about his preference for weapons and Alastair told him about his spears.

‘Spears, huh? I thought I saw you with daggers in your room.’

‘Those are decorative, mostly. I collect them. But I always carry at least one spear with me when I go outside, you never know when something might happen.’

Alastair remembered the vetis demon Clive Cartwright had released all these years ago at the academy. How he’d been too scared to tell his “friends” how he felt about the prank, that it was a terrible idea. He’d gone along anyway, thinking that if he was there at least he had some control of the situation. Then Clive had died, and perhaps Alastair could have saved him, had he carried his spears. He’d never left them behind again.

‘Seems a bit unpractical,’ Charles said. ‘How do you even carry a spear?’

‘Not at all. You see, these can be folded, so I can comfortably carry them underneath my suit. And they allow me to fight demons from a bit more distance.’

Alastair hated it when he got covered in blood, ichor, and other bits of demon parts, but fortunately that didn’t happen as often anymore. He still hated the way he looked after a fight though, with his hair all over the place and his clothes messy, but it was better than being covered in blood. He always put great effort into his appearance. With people constantly judging him for how he looked, he couldn’t afford to be seen with even a hair out of place.

‘Would you like to show me a bit? I’ve never trained with spears myself, nor seen anyone else do it. It’s a bit of an unconventional weapon after all.’

Alastair hesitated, and then unfolded one of his spears from underneath his suit. He’d still been carrying it even when there was no need inside. He guessed he’d forgotten to take it off, that’s how comfortable they were underneath his clothes. It was convenient now though, since he didn’t see any spears in the training room. He didn’t feel like changing into gear just for a demonstration, that would come later during training, but he did step into the training room. It was much bigger than what he was used to at home.

Alastair threw the spear, hitting a target about as far away as he could hit from here, hoping it would impress Charles.

‘I usually carry more than one spear, so I can throw them as well without ever being left unarmed.’

‘Clever,’ Charles said. ‘I’ve mostly trained with swords myself. Of course, I do spend most of my time on Shadowhunter politics and there’s much I can teach you about that. And maybe someday you can teach me how to use a spear.’

Alastair suspected Charles wasn’t much of a fighter, but he didn’t mind. At least he didn’t have to worry about someone who spent most of his time writing letters and arguing with older shadowhunters. Charles was very unlikely to get hurt somehow, which allowed Alastair to let down his guard a bit.

During his first few weeks in Paris he continued to spend much time with Charles, the older man showing him around and telling him everything about his work, how to run an institute, and the experience he had helping his mother with her work as Consul.

‘Have you considered a career in politics yourself, Alastair? Maybe head an institute someday, or even become Inquisitor.’

Alastair had not, but he was intrigued. ‘I’d probably not do such a great job. I’m not great at getting people to like me.’

At the academy some people had liked him, of course. His “friends” who’d found his witty insults hilarious. And little Thomas Lightwood, who had followed him around for some reason. Alastair had always found his presence a bit uncomfortable, the way Thomas had seemed to see right through him. Yet at the same time, being adored did feel nice.

Most of the time he tended to antagonize people, keep them at a distance. It was safer that way, people who were scared of him would not hurt him.

Charles put his hand on his shoulder. Alastair knew it was only supposed to be friendly, but it didn’t feel that way. It sent a shiver down his spine and Alastair desperately hoped Charles hadn’t noticed. He didn’t want to know what Charles would think of him if he knew how Alastair really felt about him.

‘You don’t have to worry about getting people to like you,’ Charles said. ‘Not when you can make them owe you.’

Alastair wasn’t quite sure what Charles meant, but it sounded promising. He could make people owe him. And perhaps with Charles’ help, he could make his way up in the Clave, and escape the shame his father had brought to the Carstairs name.

He also knew none of that was likely to happen. He knew that if people discovered what he really was, he’d lose everything. He’d bring more shame to his family than his father did, which Alastair thought was completely unfair.

‘I like that,’ Alastair said. ‘I can work with that.’

‘Sure you can. But if it’s any consolation, I like you.’

At that, Alastair smiled.

The evening before Alastair’s seventeenth birthday, he discovered a note in his room.

Come to my bedroom at midnight. Make sure no one sees you.

C.F.

 Alastair wasn’t sure why Charles would want to see him in his bedroom, but he was also curious. He liked Charles in a way he hadn’t often liked people. Sure, there had been men he found attractive, but he felt like he connected to Charles. The older man seemed to understand him in a way no one else could, and was always willing to give him advice and teach him about shadowhunter politics. He had no idea, however, if Charles was like him. He would think it unlikely. Charles was a respectable man, a powerful man. Charles would be consul one day. But Alastair guessed powerful men had their secrets too, and why else would Charles invite him to his bedroom?

Alastair decided to go. He used his stealth to get through the institute unseen, something he had been good at for some time. When he was young, he’d always made sure no one discovered him before he found his father passed out somewhere. He knew even then what could happen if the wrong people found him alone on the streets at night.

No one was up at this hour, but he made sure to be quiet and not wake anyone. He found his way to Charles’s room, and quietly knocked on the door. For a moment he worried he might have gotten the wrong room and someone would be asking what he was doing here at this hour, but Charles opened the door, and rushed him inside, closing the door behind them.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d come.’

‘You asked me to.’

‘I did. Come, sit.’

Alastair sat down in the armchair. ‘Why did you want to see me at this hour?’

‘You seem like a man of many secrets, Alastair,’ Charles said.

Alastair couldn’t deny that exactly. Between his father and his romantic feelings for Charles, he had plenty of secrets.

‘You might not have realized,’ Charles continued. ‘But I have a secret of my own. Something that I’ve had to hide. I haven’t told a soul.’

Alastair tilted his head. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘I wanted you to know my secret, because I’ve suspected for some time that your secret is similar. And I couldn’t risk anyone else finding out, so now is the best time.’  

‘What sort of secret?’ Alastair asked, trying to sound more innocent than he was.

He suspected what Charles meant, but he wasn’t about to reveal that in case he was wrong.

Charles took in a deep breath, and Alastair could tell he found it difficult to share, even now. ‘I like men,’ he said. ‘I’ve known for several years, but I’ve never been able to tell anyone. But I’ve noticed the way you look at me… The way you respond when I touch you. I thought you should know that… that you aren’t alone.’

Alastair was left speechless for a moment. Even if he’d suspected, hearing Charles say it out loud was different. He’d known he liked men for several years, but he’d never told anyone and had never met another man he knew was like him. And Charles was a man he was definitely attracted to.

‘You’re right,’ Alastair said after an uncomfortable silence. ‘I do like men. And I like you.’

Charles took his hand, brushing over it with his thumb. ‘Can I kiss you?’

‘Please,’ Alastair said, a bit overwhelmed from everything.

Charles leant over and kissed him, gentle at first, then a bit firmer. Alastair had never been kissed before, had never considered it possible, and certainly not with someone like Charles Fairchild. He’d never imagined Charles might be like him, and even then that he would want this with him.

They broke apart. ‘I presume you understand, Alastair, that no one can know,’ Charles said. ‘We would both be ruined, if people found out. But if we’re careful, we can be together.’

Alastair was fine with that. He wasn’t ready for anyone to know about him liking men and wasn’t sure he would ever be ready.

‘I won’t tell,’ Alastair promised. It wasn’t like he had anyone to tell.

Charles didn’t say anything and kissed him again, hungrier this time. Demanding. He dragged him to the bed. Alastair wasn’t sure what was happening, but it felt good. He’d never thought someone could love him, but Charles did. He was a bit scared of rushing it, it was all so new. Charles began to remove his clothes and Alastair allowed it, still not sure what was going to happen. 

When they were finished, Alastair tried to find a comfortable position next to Charles.

‘Happy birthday, Alastair,’ he said, kissing him again. ‘But you do have to leave.’

‘Can’t I… Can’t I sleep here?’

‘I wish you could, but it would be suspicious if people saw you leaving my bedroom. At this hour, no one would see you leave. I’ll see you tomorrow. I have a gift for you.’

Alastair was a bit disappointed he couldn’t stay any longer, but he quickly dressed himself and sneaked back to his own bedroom. He slept well for a change. He could still feel Charles’ lips, his hands exploring him.

The next morning, Charles did indeed have a gift for him. ‘I realized how important your dagger collection was to you,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you have one of these yet. It’s called a poignard, and was popular in France during the renaissance.’

Alastair smiled as he took a look at it. He didn’t have a dagger like this one, that was true. He’d wanted one for a while, but hadn’t gotten around to buying it.

‘Thank you, it’s beautiful. It’s true that these were popular in western Europe for a while, but they were also the primary weapon of the army of the Savafid empire in Persia during the 16th and 17th century.’

‘Oh, I did not know that,’ Charles said.  

He spent much of the next months sneaking his way in and out of Charles’ bedroom at night. Hiding an affair was exciting, of course, and Alastair loved the thrill of it, but it was also difficult. When they saw each other during the day, Alastair had to fight to keep a neutral face, to hide any signs of affection. But at night he could be with Charles, comfortable for a while until he had to leave his room without being seen. With Charles he could let his guard down in a way he’d never done before. And he gave Charles everything he had, everything he could give. The other man could be demanding, and Alastair did not want to disappoint. He wanted to be enough for him, to be able to give him all he needed.

After a few months, Charles mentioned the topic of marriage when they were alone at night.

‘When I return to London, it is very likely I will enter an engagement with miss Ariadne Bridgestock. She’s the daughter of the Inquisitor, and such an alliance could prove quite useful.’

Alastair felt his heart sank. ‘But I thought…’ He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. I thought you loved me, he wanted to say.

‘It will likely be a temporary engagement,’ Charles said, taking his hand. ‘I do not care for her as I do for you, you know that. But to be allied to the Bridgestock family will certainly help me be elected Consul when my mother’s term ends and maybe then we could truly be together.’

Alastair’s eyes went wide. ‘Do you really think that’s possible?’

‘Perhaps. But I would not mind if you chose to marry. I would still want to be with you.’

Alastair determinedly shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I know I could never love a woman like I love you, and I’d never want to deceive someone of my love.’

‘Not all women mind,’ Charles said. ‘But I understand.’

Alastair was not so sure he did. But he didn’t like fighting with Charles and his lover had the gift to make him forget about whatever he was angry about as soon as they were in his bed together.

There were times when he did worry about the state of their relationship. When Charles decided he couldn’t accompany him when he wanted to see the city, claiming they couldn’t be seen together. Working together wasn’t an issue, nor was Charles teaching him about politics, but they certainly couldn’t go see the city together. And especially when Charles again brought up the topic of marriage, this time suggesting it would be good for both of them if Alastair got engaged.

‘I’m not going to change my mind on this, Charles,’ he said. ‘I do not want to be married to someone I do not love.’

‘And what will you do when your parents ask why you refuse to get married?’

‘I’ll figure something out. Besides, since we move around so much we barely meet other shadowhunters. It’ll be easy enough to convince them I simply haven’t met anyone I like.’

Alastair dreaded going back to his parents, away from Charles and from Paris and from everything that made him feel safe. But he also missed his mother and sister and regretted not being there to protect them. He wanted to mend the bond with Cordelia, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t tell her the truth about their father, and he certainly couldn’t tell her about Charles.

Charles paused. ‘You are very young. You still have plenty of time to find someone. But at some point you will be expected to marry. It could become very difficult to get ahead if you refuse. And what would your parents think, when you show no interest in women or marriage whatsoever?’

‘I guess so. But plenty of people marry for reasons other than love. My parents did, although they did fall in love over time. You’ll understand when you’re older.’

Alastair felt uncomfortable when Charles said that. His lover considered him a child still. Hadn’t he complimented him on how mature he was? Yet Charles often did not take him seriously, as if he was too young to understand. He often commented that he would understand things better when he was older. He was old enough to sleep with Charles though. He couldn’t make sense of it. So he did the best he could to please Charles, to show him he was mature and that he did understand. But when they differed of opinion, Charles always dismissed his ideas. That was fine though, he would be an adult soon enough and then Charles would have to take him seriously.

Except when Alastair arrived in London, nothing much seemed to change. Alastair attended every enclave meeting, now old enough to speak there himself, and did the best he could to have valuable input in these meetings, but Charles rarely listened. He preferred the sound of his own voice, even in the emergency they were in, which Charles wasn’t handling well at all. Just let me help you, he wanted to say. Just admit you cannot do this and you need me.

Not to mention here he was confronted with the presence of miss Ariadne Bridgestock, Charles’ fiancée. Alastair didn’t resent miss Bridgestock, he didn’t know her very well but he understood that as an adopted Indian woman, she was in no position to refuse to marry Charles. But he wanted Charles all to himself, to be the first thing on his mind, he didn’t want him to get married. He guessed that was not possible for someone like him. They’d always have to keep up appearances. He’d always have to be a secret.

Charles wasn’t there when Alastair needed him either. He was busy with his work, or with his fiancée who was ill and unlikely to wake up anytime soon, when Alastair just needed someone to talk to, someone to hold him. He had no one but Charles, no one he could confide in. He loved his sister, but he needed to protect her, not burden her with his struggles. Nor did he think she’d understand how he felt about Charles and he did not think he could take that rejection. He knew Layla was frustrated by his distance, but what else was he supposed to do?

So instead he was alone in his bedroom, after Charles had told him he didn’t have time to talk, to be more careful and not speak to him like that in public. Charles had promised he would come see him late in the evening, and he would just have to hold on until then. He knew Cordelia was spending more and more time with James Herondale and although he didn’t hate them as much as he pretended he did, he didn’t trust them either. They were so reckless, running towards danger and dragging Cordelia with them. Just like Charles, Herondale and his friends had no idea what they were up against and vastly overestimated their abilities to solve the situation, and one of these days Cordelia would get hurt because of it. And what would happen when his father was convicted? When Cordelia would inevitably find out the truth? Alastair didn’t want her to know, but at the same time he could barely stomach how she tried to rescue him as if he was some sort of hero.

Alastair cried for most of the day. His mother and Risa had gotten used to him locking himself in his bedroom by now and had left him, Risa only knocking once to announce she’d made tea. He hated crying, he hated being vulnerable like this and having to hide, but sometimes he couldn’t do it anymore. The anger had faded away and all that was left was emptiness. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was crying over, the way Cordelia kept putting herself in danger, the state of his relationship, his father. Plenty of options. It happened more and more frequently that he collapsed when he was sure no one would see, and Charles was never there to help him through it. He guessed he was expecting too much. But if Charles asked for him, told him he needed him, he would be there, always, no matter how inconvenient. Because he loved Charles.  

He’d calmed a bit when it was time for dinner, and when everyone else had gone to bed, Charles did come for him. Alastair didn’t feel like arguing again, and instead accepted that even if it was a bit late, at least Charles was here now. He drew a soundless rune on the door, just in case someone would wake up and hear them.

‘Have you been crying?’ Charles asked.

To anyone else, he would have denied it. But Charles he trusted, even if his lover was not careful with his feelings at all. ‘A little,’ he said.

‘It is unbecoming for a man to cry,’ Charles said. ‘You’ll learn, in time, to deal with your emotions better.’

‘Perhaps I would have if you had actually made time for me when I needed you,’ Alastair bit back.

‘You know I was busy,’ Charles said. ‘Really, Alastair, I thought you were past this.’

He didn’t dare say anything else on the topic. He wasn’t sure he could take Charles’ dismissal. Charles was right, of course, he was too old to cry, had been for a long time, but what else was he supposed to do? The longer he held it in, the worse it got, and as long as no one actually saw him when he cried, it was alright.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you came.’

‘I am too. I missed you.’

Alastair wished Charles would stay with him, but as always he left when they were finished. It made sense, of course, Charles wouldn’t be able to explain sleeping over at the Carstairs house without anyone suspecting. Still, he wished he wasn’t alone. So he cried again, even if Charles had said it was unbecoming. No one would hear him. No one would know just how broken he was. He’d considered leaving Charles, but who was he kidding, Charles was all he had. He didn’t know how he’d survive without him.

When Cordelia came to talk to him about Charles, Alastair panicked. He was relieved to hear she still accepted him, but how could she have eavesdropped on his private conversations? That hurt the most, knowing that even if she claimed to love him, she didn’t trust him. He knew she hadn’t meant to find out he liked men this way, but she’d followed him because she’d expected him to reveal secrets he’d promised to keep. He remembered how she’d called Charles cruel. How he’d defended Charles’ actions to her, claiming he wasn’t cruel, how everything he did was so they could be together.

Charles said that all the time, but Alastair wasn’t sure he believed it anymore. It seemed more like everything Charles did was to further his career, and sometimes Alastair felt like an afterthought. Or perhaps someone Charles could satisfy his physical needs with, only tolerating that Alastair loved him with everything he had. They usually met to have sex, after all, but there could be much more to being with someone. Like how he’d taken Thomas to a museum, had walked along the Seine with him… Charles didn’t want any of that. The longer he thought about it, the more sick he felt. He still went to see Charles, even if he was disgusted by what he’d done to miss Bridgestock, how he’d abandoned her when she was in coma and replaced her with miss Grace Blackthorn. Even if he wasn’t sure he still liked it when Charles touched him.

Perhaps Cordelia was right, perhaps he should leave him. Charles wasn’t going to be what Alastair needed. And then there was Thomas Lightwood… Thomas, who’d grown up to be tall and strong, but also brave and kind and heroic. Someone Alastair didn’t deserve for sure. But perhaps he could have another chance. Perhaps he could leave Charles.

He looked at his dagger collection, one of the few things that brought him comfort anymore. It felt like there was one stuck inside of him, had been for years. Removing it would hurt, but it was the only way to survive. Having made up his mind, Alastair began to write a letter. He remembered how Alastair had refused Thomas entry into his house, refused to let him make the antidote. How Thomas had insisted that he did know what he was doing. Thomas was a hero. Charles had almost ruined the antidote, and Alastair wasn’t even sure he would have minded. If miss Bridgestock had died, no one would be able to contradict his story of breaking off the engagement before she’d fallen ill.

He knew it wasn’t the best way to break it off, that he should face Charles, but he wasn’t sure he could. He knew how well Charles manipulated him, making him forget his worries with soothing words and kisses. He couldn’t face him, but hopefully if Charles read his letter, he’d know to leave him alone. He was done with this half love, and even if he would end up alone it would be better than whatever he was to Charles. He deserved better.

[statelies]

(   *  💀  /  jessie mei li, questioning, she/they )  —  is that emmeline vance i just saw rushing down the corridor? i hear they’re a twenty year old hufflepuff, returning for their sixth school year, but their friends would tell you that they are industrious & compassionate as well as blunt & graceless. if you want to know more about them, i guess i could tell you that they’re muggleborn, and from what i hear, they’re currently allying with the order. when our divination professor looks into their crystal ball, they see: falling asleep studying over open books, split open pomegranates, working under flickering candlelight, casual intimacy between friends, a kitchen full of laughter.

CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Izzie Stevens (Grey’s Anatomy), Callie Torres (Grey’s Anatomy) (+ Sara Ramirez, the they/she icon we all deserve), Kara Danvers (Supergirl), Charles Boyle (Brooklyn 99), Alina Starkov (Shadow and Bone), Janet (Not a Girl) (The Good Place), Penelope Garcia (Criminal Minds).

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Implied Racism.

LINKS: Pinterest. Playlist (Coming Soon).

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

I N T R O

full name ➵ Emmeline Huan Vance

nicknames ➵ Emmy; Emma; Line; Em; Melly; Melsy; Vance; Hurricane

pronouns ➵ she/they/her/them

birthdate / age ➵ October 24th, 1959, 09:47 am / 20 years old

birthplace ➵ Brighton, East Sussex

childhood home ➵ Unknown home in Brighton, East Sussex — 162 Orchard Croft, Harlow, Essex

current residence ➵ Hogwarts, Scotland

religion ➵ agnostic; paternal grandparents were Methodist ( Protestant ) while maternal grandparents were also Christian

occupation ➵ full - time student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

P H Y S I C A L

height ➵ 5 feet, 2 inches / 157.5 cm

weight ➵ 48 kg / 106lb

body type ➵ hourglass shaped figure

hair ➵ dark brown, bordering on black; soft and wavy

eye color ➵ dark brown

dominant hand ➵ right

FC ➵ Jessie Mei Li

voice ➵ Jessie Mei Li

special characteristics ➵

small waist

has a birthmark on her right ankle that looks like an apple

pierced septum

smells of ➵

lavender hand lotion

pomegranate

cardamom, jasmine and orange blossom perfume

E M O T I O N A L

zodiac ➵ scorpio sun (x); sagittarius rising; cancer moon

MBTI ➵ ISFJ (“The Defender”)

positive traits ➵ industrious; compassionate; generous; warmhearted; benevolent; selfless; observant; honest; personable; kind.

negative traits ➵ blunt; graceless; meticulous; well-meaning; impatient; internalizes feelings; oversensitive; tactless; overbearing; clumsy.

likes ➵ Pumpkin pasties; duelling club; laughter; the rush of incoming patients; cooking for friends; Ballycastle Bats; Diagon Alley; being barefoot at the beach; roadtrips; apple juice; hugs from friends; nicknames; vanilla candles; the heat of a boiling cauldron; Sugar Quills; warm sweaters; pizza; pomegranate seeds; cheek kisses; taking photographs; finishing essays early; coffee with milk and two sugars; Queen; Aston Villa; cats

dislikes ➵ spam (the food); apparition; the Daily Prophet; starless nights; Kenmare Kestrels; karaoke; losing bets; skinned knees; snakes; pigeons; the colour fuschia (it’s too bright); ticking clocks; banana flavouring; funerals; Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans; Celestina Warbeck; mayonnaise; blue M&Ms; her lao ye; the word mudblood; leprechauns; fans of Kenmare Kestrels; losing football matches; witch Halloween costumes; rugby

amortentia ➵

birthday cake

fresh mint

old books

orange blossom

M A G I C

blood status ➵ muggleborn

wand ➵ Aspen, dragon heartstring core, 8 inches, hard

wand-quality aspen wood is white and fine-grained, and highly prized by all wand-makers for its stylish resemblance to ivory and its usually outstanding charmwork. The proper owner of the aspen wand is often an accomplished duellist, or destined to be so, for the aspen wand is one of those particularly suited to martial magic. An infamous and secretive eighteenth-century duelling club, which called itself The Silver Spears, was reputed to admit only those who owned aspen wands. In my experience, aspen wand owners are generally strong-minded and determined, more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders; this is a wand for revolutionaries.

patronus ➵ Hippo

E D U C A T I O N

Hogwarts class ➵ Hufflepuff, 1981

extracurriculars ➵

Hufflepuff Prefect / September 1979 - June 1981

Herbology Club & Greenhouse Keepers / September 1977 - June 1981

Toothill Duelling Club / September 1979 - June 1981

Wenlock Study Club / September 1979 - June 1981

courses & exams ➵

Ancient Runes - O

Astronomy - E

Charms - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - O

History of Magic - O

Muggle Studies - O

Potions - O

Transfiguration - O

Care of Magical Creatures - E

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

health ➵

walnut allergy

hayfever

pets ➵

Jíngyi; the long-eared owl

Shu; the white cat

handwriting ➵ Abuget

F A M I L Y

Deirdre (née Wilkinson) Vance ➵ paternal grandmother; retired nurse; deceased May. 1980

Edward Vance ➵ grandfather; retired soldier and miner; deceased Jan. 1980

Xiulan Wong ( Wong Xiulan ) ➵ maternal grandmother (lao lao); homeschooled; housewife; alive

Da Wong ( Wong Da ) ➵ maternal grandfather (lao ye); homeschooled; shop-owner; alive

Dr. Cillian Vance ➵ father; worked for/with the Red Cross UK (and the Hong Kong Red Cross); alive

Mei (née Wong) Vance ➵ mother; teaching assistant; alive

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌

emmeline had always known they were different. at first, it was because of her skin, the way she looked and spoke and could never find anyone to play with on the playground, her chinese middle name and her lao lao being the one to pick her up from school every morning. she would cry to her mother at night, cling to her arms like they were the port keeping her safe from the storm, and listen to her father sing, voice warm and tender as she drifted to sleep, but she never got the answers for why she was treated differently — never got answers for why she was the only non-white child in her school, never got answers for why they hated her so much, hated her existence. but she weathered through primary school, finding her footing in secondary school with her only friend, aisha, who never cared that she was different, that sometimes she could do things that nobody else seemed able to do, that she’d been encouraged to always tell the truth, nothing but the truth, that sometimes she’d say things that hurt, things that stung even though she never meant for them to.

for a while, the feeling of being wholly different faded, or at least, emmeline didn’t notice it quite so prominently anymore, and then suddenly it appeared again — but this time it had been because she didn’t know if she always felt like a girl. not a girl in the traditional sense, anyway, not some days. she liked dresses and fancy heeled shoes and tiaras, but found herself equally at home in plaid shirts and her father’s way-too-big suit jacket and kicking around a football, and for a half-asian barely a teenage… person (she’s still working on it), suspended constantly between two identities, it confused them (even though they’re perfectly aware now that those things are superficial, but the feeling still remains). the only person they ever talked to about it back then was aisha — their lifeline, their best friend, the one their parents reluctantly approved of because they had been so lonely for so long. while aisha was crushing on boys, sweaty and loud and just this side of too teasing, and starting to wear makeup and changing herself, emmeline was trying to find where she fit in, trying to understand who she was, who she is, why they feel so different.

in the midst of all that, emmeline’s letter to hogwarts came. just another difference for emmeline to feel, the knowledge that they have magic was unexpected and tore her family in two. the family she loved - her mother, her father, her lao lao and lao ye, and granny and pops - all had differing opinions on whether or not to accept it, whether or not to send them to school and deal with the fact, up front, that emmeline was, and always would be, special. in the end, emmeline’s pops snuck her out, following instructions from a professor mcgonagall, to find diagon alley, the place where emmeline suddenly felt she fit in. she could feel the magic in the air, could feel it almost crackling in the space around her, almost inviting her in. of course, it took some time — a little too much time, really — to buy everything she needed, and when she cried into her ice cream on the way home, overwhelmed and tired and feeling so many things, he was the one who held her all the way home. 

he and their granny were the only ones there to send them off the hogwarts that first year, their parents reluctant to accept anything so unnatural about their child, but emmeline hardly cared at the time (even though it hit them later that night and they sobbed into their pillow), too excited to remember to even wave, too excited to remember to cry because she was leaving behind the only friend she’d ever truly known, and when they saw hogwarts, that castle appearing, they just knew. they were home. she knows, after years and years of being torn between two identities on so many different fronts, that people aren’y happy she’s here, happy she has magic, happy she calls this place her home away from home, that she laughs loud at the hufflepuff table and wears yellow and black face paint for quidditch matches and tried out for the muggle football team, but there’s nothing they can say to change who she is, her pride in the blood flowing through her veins, in the magic at her fingertips. emmeline’s always known they’re different, but having magic, being home at hogwarts, is the first time she’s ever felt proud to be so.

[yyxgin]

YOUR EYES TELL

"A future without you is a world without colour"

jungkook x fem!reader ; coming of age/angst

↪ summary: In your world, everyone is born color-blind. But as you find love, the world starts to get more and more colorful.

words: 7.5 k

warnings: swearing, a panick attack, character death

A/N: inspired by a tiktok about Felix I saw the other day lmao. Hope ya'll like this :~)

Little Jeon Jungkook was just nine when he shocked the entire classroom with a random fact about himself.

Everyone looked at him in awe when he told the teacher that his favorite color is red, even though it's the only color he can see by now.

"What do you mean that your favorite color is red, Kookie? Can you see red?" asked the teacher with a confused look on her face, but voice still careful enough not to hurt the poor boy.

"Of course! You have a red blouse on today. And apples are red! Well, over time. They are grey, but when september comes, they turn red," grinned Jungkook and shaked a little in his seat, perhaps from excitement mixed with a sudden wave of shyness that hit him when all eyes of the children were on him, "and y/n's sneakers are also red." he mumbled and looked at your feet under the table.

"That is… awesome, Kookie. I'm so glad!" smiled the teacher. 

Back then, you were in awe from your best friend. You've never seen a single color in your life before. Your mum told you just what color of clothing you were wearing each day and you asked her to explain every single color of the rainbow to you, but you could never really understand. That didn't stop you from asking her, though.

Now you know why the teacher was so shocked. Jeon Jungkook was just nine when he saw his first color. People usually didn't see colors up until they are adults, or even later on in life. 

People in your world are born color-blind. You live your life in black and white every day, feeling monotone and numb from everything that's going on. You go to school every day and you learn about the aspects of the world without really seeing them in full beauty. You get dressed every day without knowing how it really looked like. Sad days felt even sadder to those who still lived their life as color-blind. 

When do you start seeing colors, you may ask? It's when you start falling in love. Some may not even notice it, because it comes slowly and naturally. Some start seeing a few colors at once, some only one and nothing for a long, long time. Some people start off with less-saturated colors that turn more vibrant as their love intensifies and some just start seeing the colors in their full beauty from the start. It varies from person to person. It was amazing, really.

But what was unbelieveable at little Jeon Jungkook seeing red at just the age of nine is that, he was a child. 

Little Jeon Jungkook was just nine when his heart was already full of love.

You were fifteen when you layed on the grass in your back yard with your mum.

You asked her again about the color of the sky, the desire of finally finding your true love so big you could combust. 

You didn't understand her when she told you about the saturation and the hue of the color blue that was right in front of your eyes. Of course you didn't. You were fifteen and still color-blind.

"When did you start seeing colors, mum?" you ask her and look at her with pure interest written in your irises, which color you're only about to see.

"When I met your dad, of course." she answered. It was beautiful to see the love her eyes still held for the man. You admired the simple emotion. 

"How old were you?" 

She took a quick moment to count the years in her head before responding a simple number. "Nineteen." 

You looked at her in surprise. "Wow. That is so young." you beamed.

"Yes. But the thing is, it could happen even sooner." 

You furrowed your brows at her in confusion. "How?" 

"Well, it's also about if you really realise you're falling in love. Sure, you can see a few colors a few times some times, but they quickly turn grey in your memory if you don't embrace the feeling in your heart. If you sub-conciously deny the feeling, you deny the colors." she explained and your face scrunched up into even a bigger confusion, urging your mother to explain more.

"Yes, it's about falling in love. And you can't stop that. But the more you embrace it, the quicker the colors come. For example, I could be falling in love without even realising it. That happens. But you start seeing the colors only when you do." she talked more and you listened to her with pure interest. 

"That means you didn't realise you were in love with dad for a while?" you asked, referencing to her previous point.

"Yeah. I didn't like him very much at first. Or at least I thought so," she giggled, "but after a while, I started seeing soft shades of color whenever he was around and that's when I really knew." 

You turned to look at the grey sky again, frowning. "That sucks. What if I never realise I'm falling for someone? Will I be stuck with black, white and greys forever?" 

Your mum laughed next to you, quick to bring you the comfort you need. She grabbed your hand and gently squeezed it in reassurance before speaking to you again. "Don't worry, honey. When time comes, you will fall for someone and your world will turn upside down." 

No longer so little Jeon Jungkook started seeing the color blue just at the sheer age of seventeen. You know this, because he's told you just at the moment it happened.

You were at your school dance. It was your first time attending. You were already a sophmore in high school and even tough you had yet so much to learn from life, you felt so mature, swinging ever so gracefuly in your long dress to the rythm of the music ringing in the school auditorium. 

Your best friend was your date. He asked you the day the dance was announced, excitement shining all through his handsome face. 

"I thought you'd want someone else to go with you," you said, sceptical about his decision. 

The little nine year old Jeon Jungkook who could see the color red grew into a handsome teenager. You swore some of your classmates started seeing color just because of your best friend, and you wouldn't blame them - he had the manners of a prince, treating women like a true gentleman would, showing only his sweetest side to the world. I mean, you would know, you've known him for your whole life. 

So the thought of seventeen year old boy Jeon Jungkook wanting to spend his first high school dance with his best friend that yet had to go through her glow-up was a little unbelieveable in your eyes.

"Why?" you still remember the way he furrowed his brows at your remark, looking like a lost puppy.

"Well, any of these girls would go with you if you just asked them…" you pointed out, trying to enlighten the poor boy.

"Do you not wanna go with me?" his face fell down a little and when your heart physically feelt like someone squeezed it with full force. You mentally told yourself that it wouldn't hurt if Jungkook spent his first dance with you, because you'd like it too, after all.

"No, I do, really. I just didn't think you'd want to go with me." you chuckled. 

Nobody else would want to go with you. You were sure of that. In your eyes, you haven't really blossomed into a beautiful girl yet, with braces on your upper teeth and boobs that yet had to grow into their full potential. Maybe Jungkook wanted to go with you out of pity, or out of obligation to your parents, because they were a big part of his growing up as well. 

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend, I want to spend that day with you." his reasoning sounded sweet, yes, but in your ears, it only made you believe that what you thought was true.

Nonetheless, you smiled at him and nodded, searching for that excitement you felt just a while ago and answered him with the most joy you could. "Okay." 

Searching for the dress wasn't that fun. You were still color-blind, so the color did not really matter for you. You were quite envious of Jungkook for seeing the color red since he was nine, because that would be enough for you, truly. It meant you could see the apples turn ripe, you could see the color of some of the fireworks on New Year's Eve, the way people would blush cutely in embarrasement. It would be enough for you even when choosing a dress, because you were sure that if you saw even one hint of a color, you'd choose a dress in that variation. But you saw nothing but a million shades of gray as you walked through the aisles of the clothing store.

You chose a dress on its siluette that time. You felt like a princess wearing it. What a shame you did not even know the exact shade of your hair that was braided into a stylish crown.

It happened on the last dance of the night. Jungkook swore to get you home by midnight and you were actually fine with it, because you've spent the night with him only, due to the fact that you did not have many friends. You were getting a little tired from dancing the whole evening and being up since the early hours after a short time of sleep you got due to the fact that you were just too excited to fall asleep the night before.

The song was slow and you felt the hands of your best friend hold you tighter, hugging you around the waist. It felt good. You always felt good in his arms. He was your best friend and you could not imagine a person you'd feel safer with. 

"Thank you for tonight, Kook." you mumbled and put your head on his shoulder, eyes droopy and hazy. You felt like you could fall asleep any second in his hold when his excited voice woke you up.

"Your dress is blue!" he cheered, making you snap your head off his shoulder and looking him in the eyes in confusion.

"Yes, I told you that weeks ago, when my mum told me. You said that your mum helped to match the color of your tie," you pointed, voice a little croaky from screaming into his ear over the music the whole night.

"I know, but I see it now! I swear!" he beamed, eyes roaming all over your body, taking in the color, hue and vibrance of it all.

"What?" 

"It's beautiful, y/n. It's blue. You look so good in blue." he said, biting on his lip.  

You swore your best friend has never looked so beautiful before, with eyes shimmering in the light in excitement and pure joy, lips tugged into a big bunny smile. 

You smiled a him back, squeezing his shoulders in return. "That's awesome!" 

But even after that, you still felt something small pointing inside of your heart, making your eyes water a little and smile fall just the slightest bit, because

Jeon Jungkook is falling in love and he can now see the color of the sky.

You were just at the sheer age of eighteen when you saw your grandma cry for the first time.

It was hard to see her through your already teary eyes, but her sobs echoed through your head like knives that were slowly, but surely cutting all the way through your heart.

You were sitting in the plastic hospital chair, looking at the grey wall right in front of you. You swore the day felt even more faded than it already was, the fear in your heart clenching your insides, making you feel like you could vomit every second.

Suddenly, the loud sound of a violet sob cut through the air, making you snap your head to look at your grandma sitting next to you.

"What is happening? Are you okay?" you asked, suddely up on your feet and crouching down to look into the face of your grandma with her head down.

She didn't respond as she tried to catch her breath. "Grandma, talk to me. What is going on?" you insisted and held her hands in your shaky ones, desperately trying to understand the situation.

"I can't see colors anymore." she cried out and the noise was so hurtful you swore you were going to hear it in your biggest nightmares. You stopped holding her hands, bringing them up to cup your own face to ground yourself.

Because that was it. It's the end. There was no need for you to sit in the uncomfy hospital chair, because there was nothing left for anyone to do. It was over. 

When the doctor came into the waiting room with a saddened expression on his always so professional face, there was nothing left for him to say, because you both already knew. 

"I'm so sorry, Mrs y/g/s." he said nonthless, but perhaps he already knew that these words couldn't ease the pain you both felt at the time.

The doctor couldn't save your grandpa. He was gone. And your grandma knew, because her world was colorless again. She was left without her love on this world. It was quite poetic, really. Your world turned into grayscale as soon as your true love died, as if the world couldn't be beautiful anymore because the love of your life wasn’t there with you to live it. 

You heard quickened footsteps reaching the waiting room as your parents and a familiar figure ran up to you and your grandma, anxious expressions on all of their faces. 

You were just eighteen when you swore you never wanted to see colors ever in your life in fear of losing them some time. You were fine without them, if it meant you had nothing to lose. 

You were eighteen when the arms of your best friend enclosed around you to shield you from everything, trying to take all your pain away as he whispered into your ear. 

"It's going to be okay. I'm here." 

Jeon Jungkook has been with you through all stages of your growing up. He was there when you lost your first tooth, when you fell and scratched your knee while playing catch with him on sunny afternoons, he was there even when you've gotten your first period and cried to your mother about it. 

It only made sense for the two of you to become roommates at the age of twenty-one after getting into college. It did not surprise you that the both of you chose the same school, you two were kind of connected, after all.

And so here you are, laying on your couch in your two-bedroom small apartment, watching the TV with your beloved best friend. The scene was kind of domestic, if you really think about it. Just the two of you beside each other watching whatever tv show was playing in the TV to spend time definetly more productively than studying or doing your school work.

"I still can't believe that Mickey's trousers are red." you huff, pointing to the Disney classic going in your TV.

"What esle would they be?" laughs Jungkook in disbelief.

"I think you're lying to me," you playfully furrow your brows, "I always imagined them to be like.. green or something." you mumble.

"Green? Ew," he giggles, "besides, how could you imagine a color that you can't even see?" 

"Well, I just have this feeling." you point out and giggle a little in return, realising the full volume of your words. You must sound truly ridicilous.

"You'll see when you begin to see colors. Green would really look horrible. Red is just right." he chuckles.

"Yeah, like that will ever happen." you scoff at him, earning a confused look from your best friend that kind of looks almost offended at the same time.  

You glare at him and sigh. "Kook, we've talked about this. I don't want love. I'm fine as I am." 

He rolls his eyes at you, scoffing. "You don't know what you're missing." 

In attempt to change the topic, you quickly asked him a question that was, in your opinion, kind of spicy. "Who are you even in love with, though? Since you see some colors and shit." 

He looks away from you, focusing back on the TV again. "I dunno." 

His unbothered expression was truly getting on your nerves. "Yeah, sure. I bet it's Jieun, she's always been around since you saw the color red in elementary school." you chuckle.

His expression changes, his eyes once again rolling at your antics. "If you really say so." he mumbles.

"Don't even try to hide it, I've known you since, pretty much, always. She sat in front of us in elementary school and you never seemed to look away from her. Besides, she even goes to the same college as us. I don't know any other girl you've known since nine." you explain and watch him chewing on his bottom lip, the sign of him being irritated with you. But you don't really care. Just because you were fine without seeing colors did not mean you were fine with giving up on teasing your closest friends just because they do.

"Shut up." 

Yeah. You got him.  

You sigh again, finally getting back to watching the stupid cartoon replaying in the TV. What would it feel like watching it with color?

You quickly shut yourself in your mind. No, y/n. You don't care. You don't want to see colors.

You are currently sitting in a booth in a diner, a group of young adults surrounding your bored figure. You desperately try to engage in the conversation, but you just couldn't bring yourself to enjoy the company you currently have.

Jungkook is sitting opposite of you, Jieun right next to him, making heart eyes at him. Yes, she definetly does see color, you think. You are sure of that. Next to you, there is a tall boy from Jungkook's film class, Kim Taehyung. The rest of your group consists of Jimin, being a best friend of the boy sitting next to you, Hoseok from your english class and Yeri, perhaps the only girl friend you have.

Don't get me wrong, you love these people. But sometimes, you tend to feel a little left out. 

Jungkook is talking to Jieun. They seem to be really engaged into their conversation, their shared classes being a connecting point for the two. Jimin, Hoseok and Yeri are talking as well, but you don't bother to even listen to the topic of their interest. And then there's you, awkwardly sitting next to a boy you've just met moments before, bearing the occasional looks from your best friend that are, as you interpret, urging you to talk to Taehyung and get to know him better. He really never shuts up about you needing to engage with people more, because he still has his mind set on making you finally see colors. 

"Wanna go somewhere else?" you hear a deep voice next to you ask, making you snap back into reality.

"What?" you furrow your brows, looking him into eyes.

"You don't seem to feel comfortable here, so I was just thinking if you wanted to leave or something." he cleared up and you moved your eyes back to the table in front of you.

"Oh."

"We could go to the park, it's quiet there. Or I can walk you home, if that's where you wanna go." he says and you think about it a little. You look around the group surrounding you and realise that you really have no intention to fully try to enjoy the time with them today.

"Sure. Fine." you sigh and stand up, swiping away the non-existent dust on your trousers.

"Okay." he says before saying goodbye to your friends and leading you out of the building so you can finally calm down the headache that was starting to form upon hearing all the noise.

You quietly leave the diner with the feeling of all eyes on you as you made your way to the nearest park.

"Wow, I've been told I'm a social butterfly, but meeting you, I really don't know how to start up a conversation," says Taehyung and scratches the back of his neck. 

You softly laugh at his remark. "I'm not the best at making friends." 

"Why is that?" he asks with curiosity.

"I don't know. I've never really had that many friends growing up and college is not making it any better," you chuckle and look around the park.

It's fall, just the start of your first semester in college. You know just a few people in your class and a few of Jungkook's classmates, but that is all. You never really had the need for many friends. Jungkook was enough for you. He was always there for you, he was all you needed. You never even attempted to make more friends before.

"Aah, I see. Well, we could be friends." he smiles, looking ever so attractive in your eyes. 

"Yeah, we'll see, we'll see." you tease him as you walk through the park.

Kim Taehyung is an interesting person and you've learned that just the moment he came into your life. The night was filled with laughter and you quickly found yourself feeling content and happy with him. It felt natural, being with him.

"You know what, maybe you are a social butterfly after all." you tell him just before saying goodbye after he walked you home.

"Do you see any colors yet?" asks Jungkook the next morning when the both of you are eating dry cereal straight from the box for breakfast.

"What? Of course not," you scoff, "why would you think that?"

"Well, you left with Taehyung last night and you seemed pretty happy when I came home later." he shrugs and moves to look to the box of cereal in a meaningless manner.

"Do you really think he is the love of my life? Please." you laugh out loud just at the thought.

Yes, Kim Taehyung certainly was attractive as hell, but no sparks went flying between the two of you. You didn't see him in that light. Maybe it was because of the promise you made to yourself three years ago, but that did not change anything. You were not falling in love with Kim Taehyung, or anyone, ever.

"He is a good guy, you know…" mumbles Jungkook.

"Okay, and? My vision is still in gray scale Kookie, and it will stay that way." you deadpan and stand up from your seat to go and change into your clothes so you can leave for school.

"I'll remind you of this statement when you finally start seeing color one day." he chuckles and follows you through the hallway into his own room to change from his rusty sweatpants into something more presentable.

Kim Taehyung is right next to you as soon as you reach the school grounds. "Did you sleep well?" 

You look at him in confusion before answering his sudden question. "Yeah. Did you?" 

"Just peachy." he nods and smiles like a little ray of sunshine.

Jungkook glares at him from the place to the right from you. "Are you not gonna ask me how I slept?" 

"No, not really." laughs the other boy, teasing him. 

"Okay, you two, I'm gonna head to the english class, I'll see you at lunch?" you point to your best friend, questioning him, but the answer comes from the boy next to him, making you furrow your brows once more.

"Yeah!" 

He pretty sure just invited himself to come. Well, he wasn't called a social butterfly for nothing, am I right?

You meet Yeri in your english class and sit next to her, as always. It was good to have at least one girl at your side to gossip about all the boys in your class with. Nothing like a good girl to girl conversation.

"Boys are weird." you grunt instead of greeting, making her look at you in pure confusion.

"Yeah. Any reason in particular?" she asks.

You think of answering for a while, but decide not to mess her head with your confusion. Were you and Taehyung friends from now? It was always just you and Jungkook sitting together at lunch. It made you feel somewhat secure in the mass of unknown people surrounding you in the cafeteria.

"Hmmm, no." you mumble and start to focus on your lecture.

"Are you having lunch now?" asks Yeri after the class and you look at her with big eyes.

"Yeah. I'm eating with Jungkook and Taehyung." you enlighten her and try to rush so you don't keep them waiting, but your classmate stops you as she pretty much invites herself to join you as well.

"Oh! I'll join you."

What was with people these days?

The lunch is kind of awkward. Each of your friendships has a different dynamic and you feel like they don't really match each other. I mean, you've known Jungkook pretty much your whole life. You are confortable with him. Yeri is your new friend and you are both at that point in your friendship where you are comfortable with gossiping together, but wouldn't trust each other with their secrets. And Taehyung was a person that you've spent the last night out with and you didn't exactly know if you'd consider him as a friend of yours or just a very friendly acquaintence.

Yeri tries to start a conversation first, but you can't seem to find the right words to say. Her focus quickly changes to Taehyung as he's the only one who knows how to really speak in this group.

"Yeah, I'll go." you mumble as you finish your lunch and apologitecly smile at the three people in front of you.

You truly are not good with people.

It is winter and you decided to go ice skating with your roommate, who from this day was also known as your personal skating teacher. 

"Fuck you, I hate this." you spit at him when you land your ass on the cold ice just about the hudredth time. 

"No, you don't! It's so much fun!" he cheers and takes you by your hand, which wasn't a foreign gesture from him, but has always made you kind of shocked.

"Yes, I do. You should have asked Jieun to go with you." you glare and try to stand straight in order to keep your unsteady body on your legs.

"Why would I?" he scoffs and you swear you see just the tiny bit of redness creeping on his cheeks when he looks away from you.

"Because of the colors and stuff. I haven't heard you talk about a new one in a while, though. Is something happening between the two of you?" you bring up, questioning him. 

"No," he shakes his head, "and I still don't see why you think I'm in love with her." 

"I told you a million times and I'm 100% sure of it. I mean, you are blushing right now, so if that doesn't prove anything…" you trail off and look at him rolling his eyes next to you.

"Well, what about you and Taehyung? Do you see any colors yet?" he changes the topic and tries to counter-attack.

But he fails. "No. Tae is just my friend, that's all." 

"Tae? As long as I know, his name was Taehyung." he points out and you furrow your brows.

"And? People are allowed to have nicknames, you know." you glare. 

"You only ever called me by a nickname, though…" you see him getting redder at pointing it out and you can't help but laugh at his embarrased face.

"Yeah, because I only ever had one friend, you know." 

"Is he only a friend to you, though?" he asks and you swear you feel your blood boiling.

"Why are you so obsessed with this? I can't see colors for shit, so I'm pretty sure of my feelings, you know. And I'm perfectly fine and content with that, I told you numerous times." you spit.

"Because I want you to love someone." he deadpans, making you stop in your tracks. You are surprised you were able to do that without falling again.

"Why?" 

"Because it's beautiful," he shrugs, "and you deserve that." 

"But I don't want that. It would ruin my life." you say, perfectly sure of your opinion you've guarded since you were nineteen.

"Do you really not want to fall in love just because you're scared of losing them one day? Because that's bullshit." his eyes are hooded with annoyance and his voice is slightly raised as he kills you with his glare.

"Love is bullshit." you argue back.

"Your opinion is bullshit! Why would you give up on love?" 

"Look, Kookie. I'm not a hopeless romantic like you are. I don't need that baggage in my life. If I don't have it, I can't lose it. That's my view of things." you shrug and continue to skate.

"But you always wanted to see the colors of the sky." he says nonchalantly, but the sentence holds more hurt than you'll ever imagine.

Because it was true. It was your biggest dream since you've been a child. But if it meant falling in love, you were more than happy to give up on your dream. 

"I don't anymore. And now, kindly go to hell with this bullshit. Call Jieun if you want to talk about love, I'm sure her life is full of color." you say as you bite on your lip, feeling your eyes burn with a familiar feeling.

You let go of his hand you didn't even realise you've been holding the whole time and cautiously leave the skating rink.

"Did Tehyung ever talk to you about… seeing colors and stuff?" asks Yeri one day before class, making you truly annoyed. It seemed like everyone but the two of you wanted for you and him to be a pair.

"No, Yeri, he did not, and we are not in love." you snap back at her, rolling your eyes. You swear that if she doesn't stop talking about him soon, you will cut a bitch.

"Oh. Well… that's.. good? Umm…" she mutters, looking away from you.

"Sorry if I caught you off guard, I just… everyone keeps talking about him and me being together, but I just want all of you to understand that it's not happening." you change your tone and try to act less annoyed than you really are.

"That's really good, truly. Because… well, here's the thing," she starts and confidently claps her hands, "I am going to tell you something."

"Yes?" you ask, eyebrows close to your hairline now.

"I may or may not have see a color or two. Perhaps three." she says and you look at her without any reaction. Don't blame yourself though, your mind's gone pretty much blank with a little hint of jealousy that you desperately try to hide. "And it's all since I've known Taehyung." she completes.

You are pretty sure your mouth is hanging open in surprise when she gently takes her hand and forces you to close it. "I know, I know, it's kind of ridicilous, but…" 

"It's not!" you yelp, trying to calm her down and encourage her.

"Yeah, well…" 

"And are you sure it's because of Taehyung?" you ask.

"I'm pretty certain." she nods. 

"How do you… know?" you ask, feeling like that one time when you asked your mum in your back yard.

"You just feel it. I feel safe with him, I feel joy. Content. He makes me feel… happy, you know?" she grins and her grey eyes glitter with fondness over the boxy-grinned boy.

They are all right. Love really is beautiful. 

But you'll be fine without it, right?

"I'll ask Tae about you," you smile at her, suddenly feeling like you want to play a true wingman to your friends.

"No!" she yelps. "Don't. I don't want to.. you know.. I don't want him to know if he doesn't feel the same." 

You giggle in understatement. "Don't worry. I'll make it so he doesn't realise." 

Well, you did say that. But the fact that you still weren't really good at talking to people was very much appearent as one of your permanent personality traits.

"Tae, do you.. see colors?" you ask, watching his tiny dog wiggle his tail as he walks a few meters in front of you.

"Oh. What a sudden question," he mutters and when you look at him, his cheeks are a little red. 

"Yeah. So? I was always pretty straight-forward." you giggle.

"Why are you asking?" he asks, unsure if he wants to answer.

"Just answer." 

"Mayhaps…" he trails off and nervousely giggle.

You stop in your tracks and you swear you can feel the offended look of Yeontan on the leash looking at you. He was a dog of many emotions.

"Holy shit! Everyone I know sees color now!" you yell out, not really knowing how to act at this realisation. 

But you were here to ask about Yeri, after all. So you go back to the business. "And since when?" 

"Since fall," he smiles and you physically feel your face turning into a smile. 

Bingo. That's when he and Yeri met!

"Okay, that adds up." you giggle and he looks at you, shocked.

"Wh-what? Do you feel the same?" 

You swear you gasp at that moment, all the air in your lungs leaving your body. "Do- do I feel the same?" 

"Well, you said that it adds up, so…" he starts, but his expression quickly changes into a dissapointed one.

"Yeri. You met her in fall." you deadpan.

"Yeri-" 

"She loves you." you blurt out, now anxious and desperate of saving the situation.

"But I- I am falling for you." 

You swear you hear your heart thumping after hearing the sentence. No, this can't be happening…

"Taehyung…" you start, but your voice breaks.

"I started seeing colors since the day I met you, y/n. It's you." he says, biting on his lip.

You were twenty-one years old when you broke someone's heart for the first time. You were twenty-one when someone confessed to you for the first time, leaving you feeling guilty of not being able to love them back.

"I'm so sorry-" you start, your breathing uneven and short.

"You should go." he says as he takes the leash of his dog from your hand and looks away from you, slowly walking in the other direction.

You were twenty-one years old when you got your first panick attack.

You ran home all the way from the park, silently cursing youself in your head. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What have you done? 

You tried to hide in your room as soon as you unlocked the front door, but Jungkook was right next to you as soon as he heard your heavy breathing and lound thumps on the floor.

"What is going on? Are you okay?" he asks as he sits next to you on your bed, eyes on your shaking body. 

You don't let yourself cry when he hugs you and soothes your back, calmly whispering words of encouragement to your ear so you relax. "Focus on my breathing, okay? Breathe." 

Just his thoughtful words make you get back to reality, attempting to breathe just because he told you to. You listen to his breath, breathing in when he does and breathing out at the same time. Your breaths were synchronized and you soon felt your hands stop gripping the material of his hoodie you didn't even know you were desperately holding on to. 

"Are you fine now? Are you okay?" he asks with worry in his tone.

You just nod and burry your nose into the fabric of his hoodie further, trying to relax with the calming scent of his fabric softener.

"Do you want to talk about it?" his voice cuts through the relaxing silence again.

You think before responding to him. "Maybe." 

It would be hard to keep it all in. You needed to talk to somebody. And you know you can always count on your best friend to listen to you. 

"What happened?" 

You sigh. "Taehyung… he just told me he's falling in love with me." 

You feel his breathing hitch in his throat as his hands grip you a little tighter. "And what did you say?" 

"Koo, you know I don't see any colors. I am not in love with him." you mumble and look him into the eyes.

"I'm sorry." he says, taking you off guard.

"For what?" 

"Just… yeah." he scoffs and gently caresses your back. "Why did you have a panick attack about it?" 

You bite on your lip before speaking again. "Because I broke his heart. He started to see colors because of me and I feel like maybe I led him on? Why did I make him fall in love with me? What did I do? I ruined his life, Kook." you explain, expressing all of your deepest regrets.

"It's not your fault," he reassures you, but you don't believe him. The guilt you feel on the inside is just so much bigger.

"I am not worthy of love." you shake your head, but your best friend is not going to let you talk like that about yourself and you should have known that by now.

"Stop. You are," he starts, softly cupping your cheek, "you are the most important person in my life. You are kind, gentle, sweet and so, so beautiful. So stop saying that. Taehyung knew all of this when he fell in love with you, and it's not your fault you don't feel the same. You don't have to feel guilty." 

You stare into his eyes. "Love sucks." 

"No." he shakes his head. 

You sigh and turn around in his arms so you are laying in your bed, head on his shoulder. You felt comfortable and safe. You knew you could uncover your everything to him.

After a moment of silence, you begin to speak again. "What about you, though? You haven't talked about Jieun in a long time." 

"Do I have to talk about her?" he asks.

"I mean, you don't, but you're in love with her, so I thought you'd talk about her at least once in a while." you chew on your bottom lip. 

You hoped Jungkook never gets his heart broken like Taehyung just had. 

"I am not. You just say that." his voice is serious and it makes you look at him in surprise. Your faces are way too close to each other and you swear you feel his breath on your skin. 

"You are! Who else would you love? Or have you fallen out of love with her? Is that possible? You haven't talked about a new color since we moved in here, so that would make sense-" 

"Y/n, I can see all the colors since I was eighteen." he shuts you up.

You blink a few times, trying to connect all the dots in your head. "I don't understand." you shake your head.

It's his turn to sigh before closing his eyes for a second and responding to you. "Do you remember the first color I saw?" 

You furrow your brows. "Yeah. It was red. You were nine." 

"Yeah. I was nine and you were my seat-mate." he says, but you still don't catch on. 

"And?"

"Do you remember the second color I saw?" he asks again.

"Yeah. It was blue. On our sophmore-year dance." you answer.

"I was fifteen and you went to the dance with me. Your dress was blue and blue has been my favorite color ever since." he says and you physically feel your heart swelling.

"And?"

"And do you know when I started seeing all colors?" he asks.

"You never told me. I thought you only saw these two and green." you mumble, a sudden pain dripping in your chest. Did he not trust you enough to share that with you? He always told you everything.

"It was when we were eighteen, y/n. On the day your grandpa died." he says, licking his lips and nervously chewing on them.

"O-oh." you sigh.

"I just didn't tell you because it wasn't the right time. You were in pain, and I held you as you were shaking on the ground. All I wanted to do was take all the hurt and pain from you, even if it meant I'd die. And when I blinked, there it was. All the colors. Everything." he explains, his gaze not once leaving your eyes.

"No, Jungkook-"

"Y/n, I-" he starts, but you can't let him finish it.

"Don't say it. No." you cut him off, your eyes burning with tears. 

You begin to cry as the weight of his words fall on you. Your best friend is in love with you, and you are for sure going to break his heart, even though it hurts you. You can't accept his love, because one day, it will be gone and that will hurt more than anything. And you can't let that happen.

"Y/n, just let me say it. My world is so beautiful just because of you, and I just want to let you know. I don't want anything else in return, because I know what you think about love, but I just need to get this off my chest," he begins and you have no strength left to stop him, "but I love you. And I have ever since I was pretty much nine." he softly laughs.

You shake your head in dissaproveal, hoping to let him know everything that is going on inside of your head.

"Why are you crying, baby girl? It's okay." he whisperes into your ear, holding you tighter.

"Because I don't want to break your heart. I care about you too much, Kook. I just-" you sob into his shoulder, bearing the second mental breakdown of the day, "you are my everything, you know? I can't let you get hurt." 

"It's okay. You won't break my heart, y/n. I know you don't see any color, and that's okay." he says and pets your hair like you are a little girl.

"It's not-" you say and you open your eyes after a while, but the sight in front of you makes you stop. 

Jungkook. He is so beautiful. His doe eyes are a little glossy, his lips bitten. His hair is a mess and his hoodie has a wet stain from your tears, but he is still so, so beautiful. And you take it all in, because his eyes are dark brown and so is his hair, and his skin looks like honey. His lips are pink and so inviting, and the hoodie he has on is dark purple. 

And suddenly, you laugh through the tears. 

You were so stupid. How could you think you could resist? You've broken the promise you made to yourself when you were eighteen. You had everything to lose now.

"You are so pretty." you say as you trace his cheekbones with your thumb. 

He stares at you with galaxies in his big, open eyes and lips parted. You swear you've never seen a better view.

"What?" he chuckles.

"You are so colorful." you breathe out and his lips slowly turn into a open-mouthed smile.

His fingers wipe away your tears. "Do you- do you mean that?" 

You just nod. Because that is everything you're capable of now. The feelings come in waves to you, but they feel like they've always been there somewhere, ever since you were little. But now, the intensity grew as the pain of breaking his loving heart creeped to the insides of you, making you finally realise what you've been feeling, but mentally denying all along.

"Jungkook, I love you." you say. 

He softly laughs before slowly tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "I love you. But why so.. why so suddenly?" 

"I just… the thought of breaking your heart hurt so much it made me realise some things, I guess." you mumble and look  at his lips, still so pink and inviting as if it was the first time you've seen them.

He takes it as a hint, but still asks for your permission. "Can I kiss you?" 

You gently nod before closing your eyes and leaning to meet him in the middle, your lips softly crashing and moving in sync, as if they were made for it. You feel the same wave of emotion fill you again as it warms up your whole entire body and suddenly, you understand why you've always felt safe with him and why all your happy memories contain your best friend. You just never chose to realise it.

You were twenty-one when the love you felt came so strongly to you that you started seeing the whole rainbow at once.

You were twenty-one when a dream of the little Jeon Jungkook has finally came true.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 9

As promised, two chapters in one day! HBD to this trash rabbit. I just get thirstier with age.

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. DRUG USE IN THIS CHAPTER. Just generally an uncomfortable vibe, thread carefully.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Ooh, boy. This is a whole mess. Angst. [insert drugs owl meme]. Steve doesn't pass the vibe check yet again, stupid old man. Bruce + Tony be like: I CAN'T GET NO SLEEP CUZ OF Y'ALL.

My beta, whomst I love more than cake - @miscmarvelwritings . She's so beautiful though. And so smart. Wow.

The strobe lights pulsated to the rhythm of the music, bodies swaying, gyrating to the tune. The club was banging this time of night, people were living it up like there was no tomorrow. For me, in the VIP zone it was quieter, calmer, but no less exciting. The atmosphere here was distinctly different from the one on the main floor.

It was hard to wallow in misery even if it only took me an hour to stop resisting the gratuitous amounts of white powder on the silver platters. "It's better when you're there to watch them, they'll do it anyway but at least you can know that they're getting the good stuff!" My idiot father proudly announced, looking at me snorting a line through a rolled up hundred dollar bill.

Whiskey and vodka wasn't doing it for me. It made me feel low and Dad, being Dad, of course noticed it and immediately called a guy who knew a guy and suddenly all of his friends and their baby-faced companions had white under their noses. Cash flew like autumn leaves.

As I went out to the main dance floor to get a closer look at Billie Eilish in all of her edgy, beautiful self, the drug hit me like an avalanche. No trace of the grogginess or the mortification that had hitched a ride on me from Stark tower. I danced and sang and saw dad smiling at me in approval, his equally high and important friends all wearing identically predatory smirks. They were good at spotting the obvious - beauty, talent, money. I had no qualms about the fact that dad was off bragging about my close relationship with Tony. If my father was feeling particularly bold, he'd be telling them he knew and encouraged it all along, his buddies pretending to believe the white lie in turn.

I had exchanged my pants and sneakers in favour of a skirt and fishnets with high heels combo, a decidedly inappropriate attire for a daughter having a family night with her father but he insisted I dress trendy. I loved my dad, I really did, and I knew he meant well - I'd definitely be out of place amongst these TVscreen worthy people in my jeans and sneakers but...Tony was one of those people, and he had never ever said anything bad about the way I dress. Even when I obviously and purposely put on obscene clothing just to get a rise out of someone.Tony just smiled and played along.

Tony Stark was the heartless asshole here? Really, press? Really, haters?

"Standing there, killing time, can't commit to anything but a crime..." I sang along quietly as I hurried back to the VIP area. My dad was standing up and so were a couple of his buddies. "Where's ya goin'?" I asked, taking a seat.

"Be right back baby girl, if you find better company then go on without us," Dad winked, throwing a totally nasty glance at one of the girls. She was not much older than me but her body was stick thin and bolt-ons and Botox were her two best friends. She gave me a dirty look and I returned it, extending a waiting hand towards my dad. He chuckled, depositing a neatly rolled stack of hundreds into my palm.

"Dad, I want a new purse," I whined, just a tad. Just to see the girl's eyes go wide with acrid envy. Dutifully, another couple of stacks landed in my palm without any objections and the company retreated towards the back door.

I sighed.

Fiddled with the straw of my drink a bit, contemplating my options. I could always ditch this party and go somewhere more active, somewhere with better music and kinder people.

"Ay, baby girl, you wanna party with us?" A tall, handsome man from dad's previous company approached me. "We'll have some fun." He maintained a respectful distance but the intentions were clear.

"Nope," I popped the sound, not even sparing him a glance. A few lines of cocaine stared at me from the table beckoning with a better high, a stronger sense of euphoria, confidence and energy to dance, to sing, to be happy. I picked up one of the discarded banknotes, quickly rolling it by a sheer force of habit and cleaning up the tray. One line.

"Holy shit, is that..."

Two lines.

"The fuck?!" I recognised that voice. I have been hearing it every day in the labs, I've been hearing it in my dreams.

Tony was gaping at me, in front of me.

"Hey, Tony. Fancy seeing you here." Any other time, I'd be cringing at my lame greeting but I was feeling way too good to care about trivial things like being clever or being appropriate.

"I was looking...for you," He slowly said, putting a single finger on the tray with the last line of coke and pulling it out of my reach.

"That's funny," I snorted, hastily wiping at my nose to cover the tracks of my very bad, very immoral, very illegal activities.

"It's not, Princess, it's not funny at all," He frowned. "C'mon, we're leaving." And extended his hand. I decided to follow along - there was nothing for me to do at this club anyway, the music was lame and the people were stuck-up.

"I look like a prostitute, Tony, I'll take the back door," I attempted to pull him towards the aforementioned but he didn't budge, just stared straight ahead and towed me along like he was wearing one of his iron suits under the stylish jeans and tee get-up.

He stopped in front of the exit, giving me a critical once over. Wiped my face, again, brushed my hair back. Gave me his shades - I dutifully put them on, figuring the manic look in my eyes was anything but attractive right now. "Jesus Christ, Princess," He sounded desperate. "You're beautiful, don't you fucking worry."

And we made our exit, arm in arm, me trying not to stumble in my high heels, Tony being my rock, my solid foundation. In other words, I was hanging onto him for dear life trying not to fall over and give a reason for a sneaking paparazzi to make a scandalous headline.

"You're doing great, Princess," Tony helped me into his Tesla, slamming the door behind me and hurrying towards the driver's door. I managed to unclasp and kick off my shoes, curling up comfortably into the passenger's seat.

I watched the man as he started the engine and watched him wrestle with whatever personal demons that tormented him as he peeled off and raced into the Friday night city.

"What in the everlasting fuck..." He started, stopping abruptly mid-sentence. "How did you even get in there?"

"I came with dad. He literally ditched me to fuck some whore, like, twenty minutes before you showed up." I shrugged, eyeing the modified panel of the car. It was very obviously Tony's own design. I wondered if he could introduce me to Elon Musk someday.

"What the fuck? And correct me if I didn't hear you clearly," Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your father took it upon himself to drag you to a club, get you drunk, gave you cocaine and fucked off with some groupies?"

"Yah, that's about it. My dad is all about cocaine and whores, the more the better," I replied, leaning in to take a closer look at the car's panel. "Hey, could, like, introduce me to Elon Musk someday? That would be fuckin' awesome."

Tony went eerily quiet, I saw his knuckles on the steering wheel go white. Vague expletives were muttered under his breath. "I'm guessing you're good on sleep?" He finally asked through gritted teeth.

"Sleep? Don't know her," I laughed. "I wanna dance, Tony."

"Of course you do, Princess." His smile was tired and forced and full of pity. "You know, I don't think I'll be able to sleep now, either," He admitted, taking a sharp left. "How about we get some McDonald's and camp out in my lab?"

"Sure, whatever," Not like I had much choice in the matter. What I really craved was a good, long, hard fuck (by Tony himself preferably) but if science calls... I have no choice but to comply. "Get me two Big Macs," I demanded least he try to joke and get me a Happy Meal or some shit.

He did get me the food without any usual grumbling. I didn't like this Tony. Tired Tony, sad Tony, angry Tony. Wrong Tony.

"Huh?" He said and I realized I'd said the last part out loud.

"I don't like a sad Tony,” I said. "It's the wrong kind. Sassy, snarky and perpetually caffeinated Tony is the best Tony. The only proper kind, in fact." I stated with seriousness, shoes dangling from one hand and my McDonald's in the other. Man, I have been seeing more and more of this god-damned elevator recently.

"You're high as a kite, darling," He chuckled then, a real laugh.

"Who's high?" Bruce's voice came from the kitchen.

In a state of blind panic, I jumped behind Tony. "Not me."

Tony palmed his face.

Steve came over from the fridge, leaving the rummaging to Bucky. He took one look at me and suddenly I felt small, insignificant like an ant. I didn't like it much. "Holy hell, the fuck happened? Tony, explain." The Captain demanded, giving me the world's biggest stink eye.

"It's her piece of shit of a father, dragged her off to some night club and left her hanging with his buddies, fucking off god knows where. It's not her fault so lay the fuck off, Rogers, with your self-righteousness," Tony exploded all over Steve, the pent up frustration rearing it's ugly head.

I mustered enough courage to tiptoe around the dick measuring contest to sit at the counter. My appetite was gone and my burgers were turning colder and soggier with every passing second. Just like my life.

"Hey, Princess," Bruce's gentle voice halted my train of thought. He approached me carefully, ignoring the men behind me in favour of simply wrapping me up in a quiet, comfortable hug. "You feel alright? Want some water?"

"Nu-uh," I mumbled, unwilling to part ways with the warmth of this embrace.

"... Steve, I found her snorting miles of coke all by herself while an some jackass was waiting for her to be even more out of it. It's rare that I say this but I had literally zero words." Tony punctuated his words by tapping his fist against the wall multiple times.

Bruce tightened his hold on me, a sudden influx of strength accompanied by a quiet, low growl in his throat.

I felt the sudden need to clarify the situation. "Tony, chill. It takes me a lot more to be out of it, I'm fucking coherent and I'm talking sensibly. It's not my first rodeo."

Apparently I'd gone and said the wrong thing because all the men in the room were suddenly growling. I even totally forgot about Bucky who had the uncanny ability to exist in a room without making absolutely any sort of noise.

"The fuck do you even mean by that, Princess?" Tony screeched, probably already knowing that answer.

"From one rich kid to another, you should damn well fuckin' know," I spat, unwilling to admit my misery.

He sighed, audibly deflating behind me. I refused to listen to him, refused to be humiliated and exposed like that for my perfectly human desire to be happy. To not be a disappointment, to not be disappointed in everything and everyone. Bruce was nice and kind and warm and selfless but even he couldn't love me the way I wanted to be loved. Cherished, taken care of. All that mushy stuff. I was selfish, so I snuggled in closer to him, muting the world around me, replacing it with the smell and feel of him.

Cocaine made it a whole lot easier to imagine. Maybe that's why it was so addictive.

"Guys, calm down, you're stressing everyone out," Bruce rumbled quietly. I loved the way his deep voice seemed to reverb throughout his chest.

"Get me a cup of coffee, would you, Buckaroo?" Tony sighed again. I heard the sound of him slurping at his coffee. I heard Bucky's metal arm clunk against something equally metallic before the supersoldiers bid everyone good night and walked off.

Only then I removed my face from Bruce enough to take a good look at Tony. He was eyeing me, too.

"We have a caffeinated Tony," I said, softly. "Now we just need some science to have a happy Tony."

He smiled but it came out watery. He wanted to say something but choked on his words. "C'mere," He finally said, turning in his chair and opening his arms.

I unashamedly made grabby hands, the universal gesture for ‘I want, gimme’, and Bruce delightfully deposited me into Tony's waiting arms. It was like my birthday and Christmas came out all at once. Tony's embrace was warm, like Bruce's, but tinted with an unexpected familiarity. He smelled like motor oil and fancy cologne. It was heavenly.

"You keeping tabs on me, huh? Coffee, science and sass? That's your recipe for happiness?" The engineer asked me, a seriousness that didn't match the joking tone of the conversation at all.

"I think I got you figured out. Peter, too, is important for happiness. But in controlled amounts," I said, giving it a careful thought.

Tony chuckled, sounding a little bit shocked. "What about you?" He said after a brief moment of silence passed, interrupted only by Bruce's tea kettle coming to a slow boil.

"I don't think you need me for happiness," I said, meaning it. "But let's be honest, I'm a nice addition."

He stilled under me, briefly. Bruce cleared his throat.

"Brucie needs me, I think. He's lonely," I told Tony with a sudden influx of desire to be completely honest and 100% transparent. "And it makes me happy, because I need Bruce too. He's the best," I finished.

"Is that so?" Tony sounded vaguely tearful so I attempted to pull back to take a good look at his face. He didn't let me though, gently but firmly pressing my face back into his chest. "And me?"

"I do need you, Tones," I admitted without spilling any unnecessary details.

There was a child within me, small and scared and lonely, like Bruce. I hated her, hated being so soft and needy when everybody else obviously (and understandably) was busy with figuring out their own lives. I wished, desperately so, to just boom-boom-whoosh her away like Doctor Strange magicked away unwanted visitors.

Tony said nothing but his hands betrayed him. They shook and they held onto the skimpy see-through fabric of my top like he was a drowning man and I was his only floatie. For the moment, I closed my eyes and let myself believe he needed me, too.

"I'll catch a wink or two, wake me up if you need something," Bruce broke the silence, having finished off his tea. I didn't notice the time pass so quickly, too lost somewhere between here and there and Tony. In short, I was being lovesick all over the billionaire.

"Bwucie," I leaned backwards, pushing until Tony caved and let me rest my back against the counter, elbows on top of it, legs dangling freely on the sides of his legs. It put a lot of me on display. Tony had called me beautiful earlier so none of my usual habits of being appropriate around the man concerned me. He thought I was pretty!

"Princess," Banner came over to wrap me in a hug that was quite awkward, considering the fact I was sitting on Tony. It took some maneuvering to get it right.

"Night night," I said the usual and got a brief kiss on the cheek before Bruce shuffled off, yawning.

Tony was watching us with an unreadable expression. As soon as I turned my head to look at his face instead, something in him changed. His eyes grew big and round, the crease between his eyebrows disappeared. The corners of his mouth tilted up.

On a sudden impulse, I reached over to run my palm gently over the neatly trimmed line of his beard, following from his chin to his jawline, to his soft tousled hair. His eyelashes shook, fluttered, as the engineer leaned into my touch with the grace of a cat. "Kiss him, kiss him" my brain chanted. I knew I was a coward, I wouldn't do that. "Pretty," I said instead, the word coming out in a whisper.

He gulped, audibly. "Princess, you have no idea..." Shaking his head, as if he was surrounded by a swarm of mosquitoes, Tony briefly looked away. "You have no idea what you're doing."

"Nope," I agreed solemnly. "But at least it feels good. It feels right."

"God," He frowned, one of his hands coming to nervously card through his hair. "Nothing about this is right."

My face fell. Just like I thought, Tony wanted exactly nothing to do with a clueless little teenager. It stung and tears pooled in the corners of my eyes where I stubbornly refused to let them escape and make me into a crybaby. "Whatever you say, Tony." I was ready to agree with anything he said, really, if he would just keet holding me like that.

"Don't," He raised a palm. "Don't close yourself off like that."

Now I was genuinely confused. What exactly did he expect from me? I shrugged.

"You're clever, brilliant and beautiful, you can and should do so much better than all of this," He vaguely gestured towards me, towards himself, towards us and the whole damn city.

I contemplated my answer, briefly. "A lot of people tell me what I should and shouldn't be doing. Don't I get a say?" The bitterness had fought its way out and won. "I just want to be happy for a bit. All the usual bullshit."

He looked taken aback, really. Like he hadn't even considered the option. Typical.

Meanwhile, I continued my word vomit. "I want someone to give a damn about what I want and what makes me happier. Until then, I have no other choice but to take care of myself the best way I know how. Like everybody else does," The weight of his arm landed on my waist, pulling me close to his chest yet again. I didn't resist. No fight left in me. The tiredness seeped deep in my bones, chilly.

The sudden change of altitude startled me. The engineer had picked me up and started walking off towards the elevator, directing it to the lab. His personal lab. The tiles felt cold under my feet where he put me down to make his own beeline for the bar. I would've joined if not the drug in my system - the last thing I wanted was to land in a hospital yet again.

I took the moment to browse my social media, untag myself from all the unflattering pictures, post my usual shitpost. A tiny skirt, equally tiny top and fishnets - I felt out of place in his lab although I've worn more outrageous things previously. I was raw, torn open, bleeding my misery all over the room. That was not in my plan, but then again, when did ever life go as you planned it?

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