#i wish people would stop acting like their opinion is the next best piece of writing advice

[vacantgodling]

✨preferences should not be standards for writing advice✨

[destinygoldenstar]

Is Screen Time An Issue For A Character?

That’s a tough one.

I see quite a few arguments about some shows I’ve watched that ‘oh, this character is bad because they have too much screen time’. Or ‘I wish this character had more screen time to be interesting.’

Basically, too much screen time is now a valid critique to describe why a character is bad or doesn’t work for you. And to that I say…

Uh… no?

I’ll give some examples where I see this critique, but for now I want to state a case of examples where I expected to see this critique online, but didn’t, and I wondered why.

SPOILERS BELOW FOR THE SPIDERVERSE SEQUEL:

The main character of the Spiderverse movies is Miles Morales. Clear as day if you see ANY promotional concept art. The movies nail that home and give you a solid POV character among the Multiverse chaos.

The sequel begins with an over twenty minute backstory sequence involving Gwen Stacy, a side character in the first movie.

(Fun fact: When me and my dad went to see it in theaters together, he said that backstory was over twenty minutes long and that he thought they could've trimmed it down. Animated-phobia gives you weird opinions. He didn't watch Arcane with me and thought nothing of it because 'it was an animated show'. Not kidding.) (Both of my parents are like this, sadly.)

Now, in the context of the movie, it makes sense to include this to understand the full POV of her character going forward. As she is pretty vital to the story.

I tried imagining a version of the movie where we DIDN'T get this intro, went straight to Miles, and we just had to put the pieces together involving Gwen and her actions. And I don't think the movie would've worked nearly as well.

This brings me to another point involving Gwen Stacy in this movie: She's kind of become a protagonist as well, next to Miles.

Is this screen time theft? Under the screen time critique, it probably would seem that way.

And yet nobody I've seen complains. If anything, this solidified her as one of the best movie adaptations of Gwen Stacy out there. In my opinion.

Unlike the first movie, this one is not driven by the narrative of the main character, but rather multiple.

This is not uncommon. And it's an even bigger case with Arcane.

Yeah, this show is phenomenal everyone who says so is right Jinx is an icon Vi is my cartoon crush next to Petra I was crying so hard at the ending and for that alone this show deserves every ounce of praise it gets and I'm kind of an Arcane stan-

*Inhales*

I think I just have a thing for dystopian stories where characters walk through hell.

(Yes I consider TD a dystopian setting, that'd be a nice hot take to tackle one day.)

The Hunger Games is my favorite dystopian setting that I've seen, just because it's very memorable and inspiring. But Arcane is objectively the best dystopian story out there. If I fade out of my Total Drama obsession, this show might be my next target.

Cupcakes. El fin.

I could stop there, but lets talk about why we're here.

Arcane does not focus on the two main characters only as the driving force of its narrative.

Advertisement tell you that our main characters are the two growing war machines who go around calling each other sisters, Vi and Powder (Jinx. Idk how mad people get for which name I use for her. Sorry if I offend you). In fact, there's evidence to back that up. Other than they're the people with dyed hair, that's instant main character. They're the first characters we meet in the entire show. They're the characters with the final scene that closes off the season. EVERY ending to an act is with them. They're the main characters. Boom.

But wait. Nearly TWO THIRDS of this show doesn't even focus on them!

We have all the Piltover characters we keep switching back to. Jayce, Viktor, Mel, Caitlyn for Act 2 pretty much, Silco kind of becomes his own protagonist in Act 3. Really, the only people who remain consistent side characters are Ekko, and the two boys that get blown to pieces by Powder. And... some other people I'm forgetting the names of. (Sorry, I only had two watch throughs of this show so far and I know nothing about League other than the sisters become enemies.)

Now, why?

Why is this the case? I'm not saying characters other than our mains don't get fleshed out at all, but to the point where they're basically major enough to carry their own show? That SOUNDS like a detriment to the story if anything, especially how unfocused it kind of all gets until the end where everyone's in the same room.

Had Vi or Jinx interact with these characters, their fleshing out makes sense, and you definitely see that with characters like Caitlyn and Silco, who kind of need them to function.

But the Piltover gang? Jinx doesn't meet them at all, neither of the sisters meet Viktor, and Vi does meet Jayce, but in Episode 8 of 9.

Why does nobody complain about this? If anything, these guys are stealing screen time.

Well, it turns out, this is all done in Arcane's benefit, rather than fault. We are all the protagonist of our own story, and there are multiple POVs regarding the world.

It's basically if Hunger Games was third person instead of first, and we actually got a chance to flesh out the other rebels/children.

Me personally, and I know I'm not the only one out there, but the sisters were the most interesting thing about the show, and other characters that talk to them were how they caught my attention. That in no way means I don't care for anyone though, and it's COMPLETELY a PERSONAL thing.

So whenever we DO focus on the sisters and their story, not only do we get these other POVS on the scene that could clash with our view of them, but it makes it so that EVERY. SCENE. MATTERS.

No scene is wasted in fleshing out the sister's story. Everything has a purpose and drives it all to one heartbreaking simulation. There's no wasted space, there's no lack of attention to a certain detail, darn it, it's just right.

(I mean, I guess I would've liked to see what they went through in that time skip, like how Jinx was raised by Silco and processed her new identity, or better yet how tf Vi survived prison when it's heavily implied she beat people to a pulp and got solitary multiple times. But I think Season 2 is gonna cover it.)

Seriously, imagine a version of this show real quick.

Imagine a version of the show that took the Hunger Games approach, and used first person POV on one of the two sisters, doesn't matter which one, they'd both work. Cut out scenes not involving that sister. The other characters that appear revolve around scenes they're in with that sister.

Would that work nearly as well?

I don't think so.

Now First Person POV isn't necessarily a bad thing. Danganronpa is first person. Minecraft Story Mode is first person. Those are probably not great examples, but it can work. (TDDRI, a fic of mine, is first person, and I had to work around that to flesh out everyone else. It can work.)

This show is very hot topic and weirdly paced than what I'm used to. So take everything with a grain of salt as I am nowhere near an expert with this show. The show's story doesn't even get started until Episode 4, as the first three episodes are all flashback to explain where our characters are and why they're motivated to do what they do.

Again, I tried imagining a version of this show where we DIDN'T get those first three episodes, we started with Episode 4, and we just had to ASSUME all the backstory involving the sisters and the titular arcane and put the pieces together through Vi's words and Jinx's hallucinations. I don't think we would have been nearly as invested.

So with these two examples, WHY does nobody complain about screen time involving a character?

Is it because they're just really good pieces of media? Or is there a reason for this?

After all, Spiderverse and Arcane fall under the category of an 'ensemble cast'. A cast of characters in a story where there is no titular main character to drive the narrative, and everyone does instead. It's like if Harry Potter was 'Hogwarts' instead, or some title like that.

But lets take a look at some examples of ensemble casts where there's been a complaint of some sort with screen time:

Total Drama and RWBY.

Now I only like one of these two shows, so I'm gonna put that aside for now.

Total Drama. It has an ensemble cast. The show is about teenagers suffering-I mean competing for a prize, eliminating each other bit by bit as it goes along. Naturally with that setup, early boots are left to dry. But that doesn't stop people from complaining.

Ezekiel gets the most flack for too little screen time, and major fanboys say he should've had more focus. Personally I don't get that based on what role he's deigned to play. Caleb is a more recent example. I thought he was gonna have a bigger role and character than he ended up having, and him being a first boot gag makes even less sense than Zeke. Dawn is a fan favorite who isn't even in that many episodes. Axel is a ripoff of Shawn because of her lack of screen time. Scary Girl is... Scary Girl, who I don't see the fuss about her little screen time as she's comic relief, but the complaint is there. There is SO MUCH bashing about Noah's lack of screen time it is not even funny. So much so that he's sharing screen time with another person.

And who is to blame for this: Well, the characters who make it really far into the game, or course! How dare they steal screen time away from these guys!

I feel like Ripper is the most recent example of this. His character arc was about him breaking a world record. He broke it. It's Episode 5. Now he can leave the show, right-

Nope. He's around till Episode 8. Out of 13. And even then, in Episode 13, he's Millie's partner, which means screen time.

It sounds unjustified because it is. I'm not the biggest Ripper hater, but I definitely see the complaints. (Ripper and Damien swapping places are the only part of the elimination order I would change. Everything else is pretty spot on.)

We already have MK as a pre-merge antagonist and Julia as a post merge antagonist, we don't need this rando bully character as well as it adds nothing. Maybe Ripper would've been better liked if he wasn't a bully and just some morally average comic relief guy, but also... probably not.

But he's not the only fart based character in this show that gets complaints about screen time. Here's where I talk about the first gen.

For what I have seen, the ones with the biggest screen time complaints are Owen, Duncan, and Beth. I don't count Heather cause it's on purpose. I count Sierra because it's a personal gripe I have.

Owen was the original winner of TDI, came back on the show in the second season for a mole subplot nobody likes, and merged season three. He and Noah also got a spinoff.

Beth was the finalist of TDA.

And everyone hates it, including myself.

Then there's Duncan. Easily the character the show focuses on the most. Season 1? 4th place. Season 2? Winner. Season 3? Gone half the season so he's only in 8 episodes not counting what he didn't compete in, but he scored 5th overall. Season 5? Weakest performance, but he still merged. That's 8th place by the way.

By far, THIS is the character in this show that gets the MOST horrendous flack for his screen time. And from what I've learned, if you think this, you probably hate Duncan as a character.

Like, I haven't watched Winx, but I saw videos on YouTube that made fun of Bloom for getting too much screen time.

Somebody do those but with Duncan! I'm not a Duncan hater, but I would like to get a laugh!

So it'd just be easy to say the writers played favorites, it was an issue, and be done with it, right?

Except no.

My GF watched World Tour just recently. (And she was mixed on it.) Her comments regarding Duncan and Gwen were that she wished they had more interactions to sell them (she was routing AGAINST Duncney, basically) and it didn't help that Duncan was gone half the season. She said that it would've helped all the characters involved if he stayed to flesh that out.

To that I went: "Huh. That's interesting how you take no issue with this character's screen time."

But why though? She's not a stan of him, she's a casual viewer, so that can't be it.

And that's when it hit me.

Beth and Sierra. These two make it through an entire season each. And we both collectively hate them as characters. And we hate seeing them on screen.

That's because it's what the characters DO with their screen time.

See what I'm talking about:

Season 1: Duncan is an established character that develops relationships and friendships and learns to open up to people outside of his comfort bad boy zone.

Trent spends 16 episodes sitting still and looking pretty with a guitar. (Okay that's probably not a great example, and I don't hate Trent, but you kinda get it)

Season 2: Duncan is dealing with revenge on Harold for his spoiled relationship with Courtney where he gets abused by her, fights to hold his own, and dumps her.

Beth spends the entire season talking about a fake boyfriend and cheating on it.

Season 3: Duncan, again, is only competing in 8 episodes out of 26, but what does he do? He establishes a new relationship with Gwen, gets her cancelled, forms a friendship with Alejandro, and gets played.

Sierra is there the entire season sexually harassing Cody and passing it off as quirky. We hate to see it. (Seriously, you guys think the love triangle is worse than this? My GF and I agreed we would rather watch the love triangle ten times again, over Sierra being on screen at all.)

What's the difference here? STORY.

Certain characters have story to follow, that NEEDS that screen time to work. Ironically, the plotline of Duncan's that comes across the least genuine, is the season where he's on screen the least. (Not counting All Stars, but they're kind of equal in episodes Duncan's in.)

Again, imagine if we never had that backstory sequence of Gwen Stacy. Yes it eats up screen time, but without it? She would come across as an ingenuine traitor who supposedly ditched her dad for some cool spider society. We NEEDED that sequence.

Duncan is always doing something when the screen is focused on him.

The reason Beth and Sierra don't work despite having all the screen time in the world is that they do NOTHING with the screen time they get. Nothing of value at least. We could've learned a lot about their origins, Beth's underdog status, or Sierra's fanclub, flesh them out as dynamic characters to route for, with different sides of them that slip through time to time that gets the audience thinking.

Nope. Sexual harassment makes up for all of that. (I question why I put up with this show sometimes.)

That would be the case and that's the answer, just do something with your screen time and you're free to have as much as you want.

Except there's ANOTHER key to the puzzle here.

Duncan is in the top 4 of the TD cast for a reason.

He's a main character.

Something Jaune Arc is not.

Hello nemesis my old friend.

Look, I respect people who like RWBY. People can feel any way they want to about a show. Opinions are valid.

If you think Arcane is the worst show ever made, that's valid.

If you think Velma is the best show ever made, that's valid.

It's all VALID.

With that said I think this show is an absolute trainwreck when it comes to writing characters.

Now hold on before you say I hate everything about it, I don't. This show does have SOME merits to it. The music is stellar and I actually listen to the soundtrack from time to time. For a limited budget animation, it's impressive. The choreo is neat. I want these weapons. I actually like quite a few of the side characters. Keep in mind I said side.

But what I look for in a good show is a compelling story and interesting characters to follow.

Something this show just does not have in my opinion.

I keep saying I'll do an analysis post on why Team RWBY are awful protagonists, but I've been busy and my plate has not emptied. But one of my main points regarding them is screen time.

Keep in mind, I've only seen fully up to Season 8. I've only seen clips of Season 9, so whatever I say about 9 may not be accurate.

Team RWBY are the main characters of the show, and yet they have not done a single main character thing throughout EIGHT SEASONS. It's kind of incredible.

If I didn't know the name of the show but saw a clip, I'd assume the main character was Jaune, or Oscar, more on them later.

What have these girls contributed in the battle of Salem's forces?

Season 1: Blake helped stop a robbery. Not even all four of them, just Blake. (So did Sun and Penny.)

Season 2: They broke into the White Fang's secret operation and busted a train into the city to fight off some Grim, in time for Team CFVY to wipe them out. (Those characters appear TWICE in the ENTIRE show, this is the first time. Just to speak my point.)

Season 3: Yang got framed for assault which helped the bad guys. Ruby watched Pyyra die and she blasted an eyeball off Cinder.

Season 4: UH...

Season 5: They housed Oscar, they met Raven, and they took place in the battle of Haven where Yang got the relic. (So did Oscar, JNR, Qrow)

Season 6: They took the relic to Atlas. (So did Oscar, JNR, Qrow)

Season 7: They lied to the general about vital information that could've helped them get one on Salem, and doomed all of Atlas.

Season 8: They caused the death of a kingdom and fell through a hole.

Season 9: UH... (That's not me not knowing what happened in 9, they just climbed out of the hole, basically, as the season has nothing to do with Salem's forces.)

Now, because the main characters are not involved with the main plot very much, does that make them bad?

No. There ARE ways to utilize them outside of driving the external plot.

Some stories are Character vs Self, Internal Conflict. The basis of this show's story is that these kids who grew up to be military soldiers are learning that their lives and the world is not a fairy tale, and they're not the good guys. That SOUNDS like the show is all about internal conflict, right?

Well it's not.

I mean, they DO realize this and make a morally questionable choice with consequences they regret.

In Season SEVEN.

And even THEN, they're treated by gods themselves like they've done nothing wrong!

If you ask me, it should have happened a LONG time ago.

What internal conflicts do these girls have?

Ruby is a naive prodigy who wants to be a huntress and live out a fairy tale reality. And she lives out that dream. Then Pyyra dies and she loses that home. And then she's back to fairy tale land, just doing more crimes and hating authority. And I GUESS she learned a lesson in 9...? I just saw her as depressed.

Weiss is an heiress of a rich company trying to overthrow rule of her father, who hates her. She hates Faunus. She learns not to hate Faunus. And she gains a lot of powers.

Blake is part of a civil rights movement with Faunus and she likes assaulting her own kind and burning their homes. She also has an abusive boyfriend and kills him with a girlfriend by her side.

Yang lost her mommy and wants to find her. She loses her arm. She finds her mommy but doesn't give a s**t because plot. She also gets a girlfriend.

That's like Vi and Jinx's reunion, only they didn't care about seeing each other again after years, they just pointed fists and guns at each other and said, "Where's the arcane?! Where's Silco?! I'm not here for you, I have a police GF now!" "I'm not here for you, I just wanted an easy route to blast Piltover to pieces! Mwahaha!"

See where I'm going with that?

Internal conflict is a key to making characters screen time worth while.

But lets face it, Team RWBY not having very well established internal/relevance to the external conflict is not the full reason why this is a problem with their screen time.

It's their lack thereof.

Three quarters of every season, they're just sitting at some random place that's not even pretty to look at, and the SIDE CHARACTERS do all the plot relevant stuff.

See why I like the side characters better?

Lets look at that chart again:

Season 1: Sun and Penny stopped that robbery.

Season 2: Team CFVY stopped the Grim invasion.

Season 3: Pyyra's story and downward spiral to her death.

Season 4: Nora and Ren the season.

Season 5: Oscar. The tribe.

Season 6: Oscar again as he's responsible for the exposition involved in that season.

Season 7: Ironwood's descent into insanity AND Penny's descent into accidental heroism.

Season 8: Both those characters die. Everyone dies.

Season 9: ...okay, good point, there was no one else.

Okay so maybe Season 9 gets a pass, but the others? Can you really put Team RWBY in a plot summary?

And that's just external conflict talking, let's talk the MAIN CHARACTER with the INTERNAL conflicts throughout the ENTIRE show.

Jaune Arc.

A SIDE character, voiced by one of the writers, has some of the most plotlines to follow due to his internal struggle and conflict in this new war throughout the entire show.

He has something to do in MOST of the seasons of this show. Not unlike Duncan. The only time I think he didn't have anything going on was Season 7.

In the very first season, Jaune has an entire character arc surrounding him trying to find his inner strength with a one off bully character as an antagonist. That sounds fine, so what's the issue?

This character arc takes up FOUR episodes out of 16. A WHOLE QUARTER OF THE SEASON.

"Well, maybe those episodes cut away to other people at some points-"

No. They don't. It's all Jaune in all these episodes.

Season two is less so Jaune focused, but he has a little subplot surrounding letting go of his feelings for Weiss and finding another girl who would gladly take him. I guess it's priority respect because Neptune was into Weiss at the time? But those two wound up never being a thing, so...

The whole time I thought Weiss was just asexual, but then 9 came in to screw that idea.

Season three focuses on Pyyra, Jaune's love interest, and therefore he's vital to her story and her thought process, so much so that the big angst moment in the season is with him and their death kiss.

Season four and five are focused on Jaune's thirst for revenge on Cinder, a member of Salem's forces, for killing Pyyra. He learns about Salem's forces along the way, makes his own opinion about all this lore, and decides to help out due to his personal necessity.

Wow. He has an internal conflict going on, AND he's active with the external conflict. HMM...

Season six is him letting go of his grief after his moral failure from the Battle of Haven nearly getting Weiss killed. And also he pins Oscar to the wall because why not. It's brief but it's also a full on character arc.

Season eight, he kills Penny, a girl he has never interacted with before this point, and he's a grieving mess. So much so that season nine also includes Jaune dealing with MULTIPLE grieving instances and personal failures.

Everyone else got a seasonal break from the story, and yet Jaune could not.

Now, is this a screen time issue?

Yes.

But NOT for the reasons you might think.

Let's go off of Duncan again, a character with a major status in the show's story and conflict from day one. He was designed that way.

Jaune was not designed that way. BUT I don't actually hate his story for the screen time he gets. In fact, he's probably one of the most interesting characters in the show because there's so much time dedicated to his struggle and his story.

The elephant in the room isn't because Jaune has a story.

It's because the main characters don't have a story.

Again, Arcane, that show focuses on a LOT of characters that aren't Vi and Jinx. You could argue Jayce is the Jaune in their universe. But why does it work? Because there is NOT a neglect of characterization of the leads.

In RWBY, there's a serious neglect issue.

And it's not just Jaune. There are other side characters who've been stealing time away from the leads.

Oscar, ever since he debuted Season 4, has been devoted to screen time stealing, and stealing the main character status with a Chosen One narrative and a pretty offensive way of portraying Multiple Personality Disorder. He's the one with the chosen one story, he's the one who interacts with the bad guys, he's toe to toe with Ironwood, he's the one related to Salem, and he does all of it with the personality of a hollow pine tree.

I mean I guess he also has a crush on Ruby, but... I don't want to get into that.

Hell, CINDER, an ANTAGONIST of the show, has more conflict and screen time than the leads. And she's one of my least favorite characters in the entire show, isn't that sweet?!

On top of that, she's a VILLAIN. We shouldn't be routing for her!

Then there's the rest of JNPR. Nora and Ren have a season focused on them, that being season 4. Pyyra is the same case with season 3. Pyyra dies in that season, so she's obviously not getting screen time any further. But Ren and Nora are alive, AND they have a subplot in the Atlas arc. Having a subplot isn't a problem, it just becomes jarring when the main characters don't have an arc and they do.

Penny gets revived and dies in the Atlas arc. That's also a thing.

The fix here should be really simple! Swap roles! Have the side characters sit in the houses with their little arcs, and have Team RWBY on the fields reacting to everything. It wouldn't excuse their lack of inner struggle, but at least they'd be involved with the plot.

There are many ways you could fix this. Like Oscar's role of being related to Salem. Ruby's mom is dead, but like, what if her mom was Salem and was taken out in war and revived/corrupted into this monster figure? That'd be an interesting narrative.

And RWBY is not the only show, the previous season of Pretty Cure, Delicious Party, ALSO has this issue. And arguably they did it worse because I don't even care for the side characters there either. I'd be repeating myself with criticism there:

Yui, the supposed main character, has no character trait other than be a glutton and a stand in for her grandmother, the other Cures are also irrelevant to the plot and just spend their time eating. The boys of this magical girl show are the focus and have all the wishy washy plotlines, and none of them are even that interesting.

I will give RWBY this over Delicious Party to prove I can see its merits:

At least they only have ONE forth wall narration and do know boundaries to that stuff, as opposed to Delicious Party that thinks their viewers are IDIOTS, and needs a narrator to explain EVERYTHING. CONSTANTLY.

(What a new low for that franchise, am I right? At least we have Hirogaru Sky.)

So what have we learned here?

To answer the question: Is Screen Time An Issue For A Character?

No. It's not that simple.

It's what the character DOES with that screen time that matters. And their role in the story that warrants this screen time.

They need to have all the details of their story laid out for you to care about them.

They need every scene involving their story to matter.

They need to have a plotline that justifies the screen time, small role or big role.

They need to be involved with the main story if they are a major character.

They need an internal conflict to keep the time on them engaging.

They need to be doing something.

If they are a minor character, additional screen time is not a bad thing.

A minor character with a lot of screen time could be there to advance the world building, they could be heavily connected to major character, relationship or otherwise.

But the minor characters don't become favorites and neglect focus on the people the story is revolving around.

First Person POV is a difficult storytelling technique when it comes to screen time, but it's not a bad tool. It can be used as a certain perspective for every character involved if done properly.

And just... screen time alone isn't a valid criticism in my opinion. It's WAY more complicated than that.

What's your opinion? Reblog your thoughts, I'm very curious, especially with media with this issue I did not cover.

[ppersonna]

my only wish - knj | m

“ santa can you hear me? i have been so good this year. and all i want is one thing. please tell me my true love is here ” - my only wish (this year), britney spears

✹ summary- There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 15.1k OOF

✹ genre- smut, fluff, tiny tiny angst if you squint, enemies to lovers, fake dating au, idiots to lovers, brief mention of YoonMin

✹ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex (dont do it), daddy kink lolol, namjoon has a big dick, oral sex (m/f receiving), cum swallowing, light cum play, dirty talk, light degradation (very light tbh), praise kink, lots of mentions of joon being a beefy boy, masturbation,

✹ a/n- its here!! finally! my contribution to rockin around the christmas tropes. big big big shout out to @ladyartemesia​ @xjoonchildx​ @untaemedqueen​ @underthejoon​ @yeojaa​ @snackhobi​ for being my co collaborators. and a warm shout out to @wwilloww​ and @hobi-gif​ for being some very lovely betas. thank you thank you! i hope you enjoy!

There are few things you hate most in this world. 

 Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange…

 But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things: 

 Christmas. 

 And Kim Namjoon. 

Christmas, in your opinion, is nothing more than a consumerist holiday, anchored on ensuring you’re guilted enough from November 1st to the 25th of December to spend your hard earned money on shit your friends and loved ones won’t even use. It’s a time for people to pretend they love giving and caring, while shoving you out of lines in stores, buying up all the groceries as if it’s the end times, and forcing party after mindless party for “celebration” that ends in seeing your boss drunk and pants-less by the punchbowl. 

 And don’t even start on Kim Namjoon. 

 On paper, he’s your colleague, to put the terms friendly. In reality, he’s your opponent, your adversary. He’s annoying, rude, stuck up, and not to mention a douchebag heartbreaker. He’s everything you hate wrapped in one disgustingly handsome face. 

 The man never misses a chance to steal a case from underneath your nose, rub the praise he receives from your bosses in your face, and look ridiculously delectable in his tight suits that he insists he wears around the office. He absolutely infuriates you. 

 And now, as you sit in the company-wide meeting, your heart sinks as you realize the worst thing about Namjoon—he’s about to get the promotion you’ve been vying for your entire career.

 That position was as good as yours—at least, you had thought.

 That was until lead counsel, Seokjin, stands in front of all the attorneys present and calls out Namjoon’s name, commending him on winning his latest case—the case that you had done the bulk of the work for. Seokjin even tells the rest of the lawyers in the room that Namjoon is “someone to watch” with a glint of pride in his eyes. 

 The smug smile Namjoon sends in your direction as he teasingly nibbles on a pen with his sultry mouth is enough to make you want to tear his eyes out and use them as olives in the martini you sorely needed.

 Namjoon smirks as he walks past you once the meeting ends.

 “Make sure you watch me, baby,” he whispers into your ear. 

 His hand rests on your lower back and you hate how much he aggravates you, and hate even more so that he frustrates you sexually as much as he does intellectually.

 Unfortunately, your body can’t keep up with your mind’s distaste for the elder lawyer. His presence around you makes your blood vessels tighten and your head feel light—nipples prickling against your bra when he winks at you.

 “Asshole,” you whisper under your breath as you pack up your notebook.

 “Oh, ___!” Seokjin calls out just as you’re about to leave the all-glass meeting room.

 Your head suddenly screeches to a very frustrated, sexual halt when you turn to face the lead counsel of your company.

 “Yes, Mr. Kim?”

 “I’ve got a case for you.”

 The smile on his face makes you relax. Maybe he sees your potential. Maybe he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing Namjoon. Maybe you’ll be the “one to watch” and you can rub that right in Namjoon’s perfect, stunning face.

 A thick manila folder slides across the oak table towards you from Seokjin’s hands. The impressive volume of the dossier makes you giddy with anticipation.

 “I know you won’t let me down.”

 You nod, nibbling at your lips, before bowing to your superior and dashing out of the room as fast as your Louboutins can handle.

 It’s not until you sit at your desk, a cramped little cubicle next to Park Jimin, your best friend and paralegal assistant, that you open the folder.

 Your heart sinks as your eyes hurriedly rush over the title page.

 Personal Injury Suit.

 A dejected sigh leaves you as you throw the folder onto your desk and slouch back in your ergonomic office chair.

 “What’s up, pussycat?” Jimin smiles as he rolls his chair over to your side of the cubicle. “Namjoon got you worked up again?”

 You groan as you take off your reading glasses, setting them aside to rub at the burgeoning headache building at your temples. You had momentarily forgotten all about Namjoon in the hurried hope that you’d land a case of significance, something you could finally use to prove yourself.

 Instead, you gained yet another in-and-out, settle outside of court case. Likely some elderly geriatric suing a corporation for too-slippery floors.

 “Another fucking personal injury suit,” you whine as you thrust the folder into the lithe paralegal’s hands.

 He looks over the documents and sucks his teeth.

 “Man, Seokjin really has it out for you.”

 You level a look at your best friend, before nodding and holding your head in your hands.

 “Namjoon is getting all the good cases! He gets the media attention, the litigation deals, everything! It’s like I’m not even given a chance to show what kind of lawyer I can be when I’m stuck with all the nursing home and car accident suits!”

 Jimin bows dutifully, nodding his head as you express your woes.

 “I can do more than just personal injury litigation… and Seokjin knows that! It’s just that Namjoon keeps getting all the air-time!”

 “I know, babe. I know.”

 With one last sigh of disbelief, you take the folder out of Jimin’s hands and sit upright at your desk.

 “Well, I guess if I’m going to be a personal injury lawyer, I’m going to be the best fucking one yet. Let’s get to work.”

 “Yeah! Fighting!” Jimin cheers.

  Namjoon sighs as he listens to his mother blabber on and on through his phone. He leans back in his chair and surveys the wide expanse of his corner office.

 Seokjin gave him this space, an upgrade from the desolate cubicles when he won his last big case, Kim Taehyung, artist v. the city of New York. He can’t help but smirk as he glimpses you from his window, pouring over a case file. He notes the curve of your back in the silk blouse you’re wearing and the way it tucks into your pencil skirt. He wishes he could see the outline of your ass and watch as it sways back and forth when you walk.

 “I just don’t understand why you can’t ever bring anyone home for the holidays!”

 His mother breaks him from his silent reverie of detailing every aspect of your backside.

 “You know your grandmother will not be alive much longer! And all she wants is her only grandson to be happy and in love! And a few grandchildren won’t hurt!”

 “I am her grandchild, Mom.”

 She’s silent for a moment.

 “Well, I wouldn’t mind some grandchildren either.”

 He groans again and presses his fingers to his forehead, a headache bubbling up behind his eyes.

 “Don’t you act like that, young man! You have a big empty house, big car, big life, and no one to share it with. I just want you to be happy.”

 She continues on and Namjoon can’t help but let her words sink in.

 He has it all. Expensive luxury apartment, enormous bed, gorgeous kitchen, money to spend on traveling and enjoying life. Yet he spends most of his time here, stuck in his office. He’s utterly alone, regardless of how many social guests he tries to entertain, horrid dates he attempts to go on. He’s always left alone, and he feels it deep at the very bottom of his heart—the loneliness and desire for a companion.

 “Mom! Mom!” He interrupts her diatribe on the futility of his adult life. “Stop!”

 “Namjoon, I’m just conce-”

 “I’ll bring home my girlfriend for the holidays, okay?”

There’s a stunned silence on the other end.

 “A girlfriend?” she asks, tentatively. “Really?”

 “Yeah,” he breathes, wincing already at the lie he’s spoon-feeding his poor mother—all in the name of getting her off his back. “She’s kind of shy, so I didn’t want to tell you about her yet, but now seems like the best time. I’m... I’m even thinking of proposing.”

 The words come out of Namjoon’s mouth before he can stop them. His mom bursts into screams of delight, and he can tell she’s running to his beloved grandmother to tell her the news.

 “Oh, Namjoon! This is all we’ve ever wanted for you. I’m so proud of you! I can’t wait to meet her! Oh, goodness, I can’t want to tell your father. Goodbye, son! I’ll see you two soon!”

 She hangs up before Namjoon has a chance to even breathe.

 “Fuck.”

 He drops his phone to his wooden desk and grimaces. 

 How the hell is he going to find a fiance in the next 3 days before the holiday break? 

 There’s Jennie, his ex.

 He thinks about it for a moment, before quickly dismissing it. No, much too clingy and possessive. She’d take it to be real, and he’d be stuck with her.

 His last hookup, Jihoo?

 No, too aloof. His mom would never buy that they were a love-sick couple on the brink of engagement.

 A crash outside his office startles Namjoon, making him stand and exit the large corner suite.

 The commotion is coming from your cubicle, where he can see you’re struggling to use the decrepit computer. The crash must have been from you slamming the keyboard to the desk, causing the individual keys to pop off the board.

 “Shit! Jimin, help me put this keyboard back together!” 

 You shimmy out of your chair and onto your knees, an excellent sight for Namjoon if he wasn’t so concerned about your well-being.

 The paralegal is standing above you, watching as you kneel to gather the pieces of the obliterated keyboard.

 “Oh no, honey. It’s against my personal constitution to be on my knees unless it’s for a handsome man.”

 “God, Jimin, come on.”

 “Hey, it’s not my fault you hulk-smashed the life out of that poor keyboard.”

 Namjoon smirks, turning back into his office and sliding into his desk. He easily opens his MacBook and emails Yoongi in IT, requesting a brand new computer for your desk—no holds barred. He wants the top of the line for you.

 He suddenly has just the person in mind to be his fake fiancée. 

  A brand new, gorgeous computer is at your desk the next day you arrive.  You nearly spill your hot peppermint mocha when you see the sleek machine atop your old plastic desk instead of the broken clunker that was there the day before.

 “What the hell?” You ask Jimin as you set your coffee down gently as if any movement might scare the new computer away. “Did you order this?”

 “I love you, but I would never order you something this nice.” 

 You can’t help but roll your eyes as you sit down to marvel at the modern machinery. At least Jimin is honest.

 “Maybe I’ll call Yoongi and ask him where it came from,” you wonder aloud, hand hovering over your phone.

 “YOONGI?” Jimin screeches, eyes suddenly wide and crazed.

 “Yeah? The IT guy?”

 “I know who Yoongi is, you dumbass! Here, let me call him! I’m your assistant!”

 He scrambles to grab the phone out of your hand.

 “You literally refuse to do anything I ask.”

 Jimin smiles cherubically, completely ignoring your confusion. He’s suddenly the picture of a model employee.

 “Don’t you worry! I’ll be right on it!”

 He hops from your desk with your cell phone gripped tight, and saunters away to a secluded area out of your eyesight.

 “What the fuck is going on today?” You ask out loud, settling into your chair and unloading your bag of files.

 “How's the new computer?”

 The sudden intruder makes you jump, nearly spilling your coffee, yet again.

 “Fuck!” You shriek as you attempt to right yourself and the dangerously hot liquid sloshing in the paper cup. “You scared me!”

 The chuckle that comes from behind you makes your stomach flip. You know that laugh. You could recognize that laugh a hundred miles away, in a hurricane, with headphones on.

 That laugh is the sultry demon himself, Kim Namjoon.

 “I—How did you know about my computer?”

 Namjoon takes a knee, bringing his face to your level in your chair. He’s close to you, so dangerously close. You can smell the Giorgio Armani cologne applied to his pressure points—the heat of his skin warming the scent and mingling with his own subtleties. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head. He smells so comforting—like a home you never knew you were missing until he arrived.  

 “I saw it when I walked in this morning.” 

 He breaks you from your daydreaming of warm, firm hands caressing your body and you’re thrown headfirst back into reality—the reality where you can’t stand the man mere inches from you.

 You push back from where you are and stand, eager to get away from Namjoon’s sudden interest in close proximity. He smirks and rises from his spot, pocketing his hands in his tight cream suit.

 “Care to join me in my office for some coffee?” He asks.

 His office. The one he scored after he won the Kim Taehyung case. The bitter betrayal still lingers in your mouth. 

 For the longest time, you had been equal in every sense; both living in the dingy cubicles with the computers long-destined for retirement. Then, Seokjin awarded him with the corner office, the one with the view of the entire city. You’d never forgiven either of them.

 “I have my own coffee.”

 Namjoon smirks as he eyes your paper cup, clearly a quick grab from the 7-Eleven around the corner.

 “Looks fancy.”

 You purse your lips and clutch your coffee even closer.

 “Please,” he asks again. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

 Namjoon’s face loses its snark, and you’re curious about what could cause the man to become so serious.

 “Fine.”

 You motion with your arm towards his office, encouraging him to walk ahead. He smirks again, ah—there’s that smirk, before he turns and heads into the gorgeous corner room.

 He lingers by the door as you enter, waiting until you’ve crossed the threshold to close the door behind you. It surprises you. Something about being in a closed room with Namjoon sets you on edge. You can nearly imagine the man bending you over that fine oak desk, hiking your skirt up and spanking your ass until it’s red.

 “Coffee?” He asks as he moves towards the in-office espresso machine.

 “Are you fucking kidding me? You have a Nespresso in your office?” 

 All desperate and wanton thoughts of Namjoon sliding into you leave once you see the stainless steel contraption in the room's corner. Of course he has a $500 coffee machine in his office. He has everything you want.

 “You like it?” His question is cocky. He already knows the answer.

 “Fuck off.”

 Namjoon grins and turns the machine on, pulling out two mugs while you sip your now lukewarm coffee. It suddenly tastes disgusting.

 “So, what’s the deal, Namjoon?” You ask as he rests against the wall and waits for the coffee to brew. “You said it was important.”

 Namjoon nods, a more reserved look taking the place of his usual cocky grin on his face. His gaze turns down to his shiny dress shoes.

 “I need a favor.”

 “No.” Your answer is quick.

 Namjoon looks up at you in surprise.

 “You haven’t even heard it yet!”

 “Yeah, well…,” you huff. “I’m not interested in helping you.”

 Namjoon leaves his post by his elaborate coffee maker, forgetting about the piping-hot liquid drizzling into white mugs, as he stands in front of you. There’s that fucking cologne again. Why does he have to smell so good?

 “You’ve got to help me. Please.”

 His sudden closeness to you sets your brain off—your steely resolve begins to crumble.

 “Fine, I’ll bite. What is it?”

 His face lights up again. God, he has such a handsome mouth.

 “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for my family Christmas party.”

 If you hadn’t had such a good grip on the convenience store cup of coffee, it’d surely drop from your clutch and splatter on the expensive carpet of Namjoon’s office.

 Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls agape.

 “You—You what?!”

 Namjoon sighs and lowers his voice.

 “Look, I…” he struggles. “I told my mom I have a girlfriend, so she’d get off my back about it.”

 “And why am I suddenly your best option for that?!” 

 You step away from the man, determined to clear your mind as the scenario weaves its way through your head. 

 Namjoon’s girlfriend. He wants you to be his girlfriend.

 Well, his fake girlfriend.

 He would hold your hand. He would kiss you. He would touch your body in ways you convince yourself you don’t think of often. 

 “You’re the only girl I know who’s got a good enough poker face to go along with it. And honestly… you’re the only girl I really know well enough.”

 His last admission shocks you. Namjoon seems like the womanizing type—one to bring a different girl home every night.

 “That doesn’t explain why the fuck I would want to help you.”

 Namjoon steps back and moves towards the coffee machine again.

 “If you help me, I’ll take all your shitty cases that Jin is giving you.”

 Your eyes narrow at the tall man. It seems too good to be true.

 “How d'you know about them?”

 Namjoon shrugs and grabs a mug full of freshly brewed expensive coffee.

 “I can hear you complain to Jimin about it every day.”

 You grumble under your breath, sucking on your teeth as you try to process the terms of Namjoon’s deal.

 “So you want me to be your fake girlfriend for your family…” you muse.

 “Yes,” he agrees. “And I’ll do all your worst cases for the next 2 months. I’ll even give you my next big one. I know you want that.”

 God, he’s right. That’s all you want. A chance to prove yourself to Seokjin, to the company.

 With an aggravated sigh, you relent. 

 “Fine! But it better be a good fucking case. And, I’m using your coffee maker every morning.”

 Namjoon can’t help but chuckle, loving the fire in your voice. 

 “Deal?” He murmurs.

 He holds out his hand to shake on it, and it takes you by surprise how warm and soft his large hands are once you slide your own into his grip.  

 “Deal.”

 Jimin is not going to let you live this one down.

  Jimin doesn’t let you live it down.

 He’s sitting on your couch, legs crossed underneath him as he hoists his wine glass filled to the brim. He holds it away from his body as he shakes with laughter.

 “You’re telling me,” he wheezes. “That you agreed to be Namjoon’s fake Christmas girlfriend? You hate that man!”

 Flopping into the couch beside him, you sigh.

 “Yeah, well, it was my only option. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

 “Okay, Godfather,” Jimin snickers. “Lord knows you still want to bone that man, anyway.”

 “Jimin!” You admonish. “I do not! And that wasn’t the deal!”

 He sips at his red wine with an impish smile. You hate it when Jimin looks at you like that, like he can see behind the lie you’ve so carefully crafted of your hatred for Namjoon.

 “Then tell me, what was the deal?”

 You fiddle with the stem of your own wine glass, sighing.

 “He’s offered to take all our shitty personal injury suits for the next two months. And he’s giving me his next big case.”

 Jimin actually looks surprised—as if he didn’t expect Namjoon to provide a deal so worth the cost.

 “Wow,” he breathes.

 You nod in reply, taking a large gulp of the pinot grigio in your glass.

 “You’re still going to fuck him though, I know it,” Jimin adds.

 You splutter your wine from your mouth, hand reaching over to gently slap Jimin on his taut abdomen.

 “Shut up!” You cry.

 Jimin looks proud of himself, sipping his red wine gleefully while he settles further into your couch. Wine nights with Jimin is the highlight of your weeks. Together, you bitch over cases, coworkers, dating struggles, and eat too much cheese and cured meats and nurse a hangover the following day with brunch.

 “Hey,” you say to Jimin as you set your wine down on the coffee table. “Did you ever talk to Yoongi?”

 Jimin’s cheeks immediately turn a shade of rouge.

 “Yoongi? Yoongi who?”

 “Oh my god,” you groan. “Yoongi from IT. You stole my phone to call him today? To ask about my new computer?”

 Jimin swallows a large swig of his wine.

 “Oh. Yes, I did.”

 “And?” You encourage the blonde to answer further.

 “And he’s doing well,” Jimin replies demurely.

 “Jimin!” You huff. “The computer?!”

 Jimin makes an ‘O’ shape with his mouth and bites his lip.

 “I… might have forgotten to ask.”

 Your mouth drops open.

 “You literally stole my phone out of my hands to call him! What did you talk about?!”

 There’s his blush again. The shade of pink on Jimin’s cheeks would be adorable if you weren’t so flabbergasted by his answers.

 “I have a date tomorrow night.” He takes another sip as you let the reply sink in.

 “Oh. My. God.” You gasp, a smile now overtaking your features. “You have a crush on Min Yoongi!”

 Jimin sets his wine glass down next to yours and turns to you.

 “I had no idea if he was into me! But when I called, I totally forgot why I was calling him and we sort of just… started talking and next thing I know, he’s asking me out to dinner tomorrow night.”

 You playfully slap at Jimin’s thigh.

 “You little slut—using my phone to get yourself a date. On company time!”

 Jimin sticks his tongue out at you, before grabbing a pillow and slapping you with the overstuffed cushion.

 “At least I didn’t agree to be his fake girlfriend!”

  It’s the sound of your phone ringing at 7:32 am that wakes you from your spot on the couch, wine glass still clutched in your hand.

 “What the fuck?” You grumble, eyes blearily seeking the offending object disturbing your sleep.

 Jimin grumbles next to you, kicking at your foot as if it will stop the phone from ringing.  

“Stop,” he whines and cuddles into his fetal position. “Turn it ooooff.”

 You locate your cell phone and groan as you recognize the name on the caller ID. Namjoon. What the fuck could he possibly be calling for? And why did he have to call at seven in the goddamn morning? 

 “What do you want?” You snap as you hold the phone to your cheek and throw yourself back onto the couch.

 “Well, good morning to you, sunshine.”

 Namjoon’s voice, as sexy and sultry as it sounds, still aggravates you.

 “Why are you calling me? It’s Saturday. Its seven am.”

 Namjoon chuckles and you fight the shiver that works through your spine at the sound.

 “I tend to keep human hours on the weekend.”

 You can’t hold back the sarcastic guffaw that escapes you.  

 “Okay, Mr. Perfect,” you sigh. “That doesn’t explain calling me.”

 Jimin kicks at your foot again. 

 “Stop talking,” he grumbles.

 God, Jimin is such a diva when he’s hungover.

 “Meet me at the cafe on First Street,” Namjoon says casually. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

 “Right now?!” You ask, incredulous.

 “I’m literally already here. Hurry before your coffee gets cold.”

 You let out a whine that could rival a 5-year-old’s temper tantrum.

 “Fuck you. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 There’s no care about your phone when you end the call and throw it to the floor.  Jimin grumbles and rubs at his eyes.

 “Why the fuck are you having phone sex with Namjoon so early in the morning?” He asks.

 “Jimin, I swear to God.”

 He wraps himself in the throw blanket and buries his face back into the couch while you stand and retreat to your bedroom to throw on some semblance of appropriate clothing for the occasion.

 “Fucking Namjoon,” you grumble under your breath as you change into jeans and a sweater. “Fuck him and his stupid, sexy face. And his unbelievable ass. And his stupid, probably enormous penis. Man, I hate him.”

 As you’re re-entering the living room and grabbing your important items (keys, wallet, lip gloss just in-case), Jimin pops his head out of his blanket cave.

 “Where are you going?” He asks, suddenly less annoyed and more pathetic. “You’re leaving me?”

 “I have to go meet Namjoon for coffee. I don’t know why, so don’t ask.”

 “You’re really going to let me suffer here? Alone? With no coffee?”

 You spin around to face your best friend, who’s giving you an absolutely soul-crushing pout and puppy eyes.

 “Yes. Call Yoongi.”

 His precious pout is wiped away, and a devious smirk takes its place.

 “Great idea!” He says as he digs around for his phone. “Be careful out there! It’s icy! Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall on Namjoon’s dick.”

 Your only reply is one singular middle finger in Jimin’s direction as you exit your apartment.

  Namjoon can’t help but smile as he sips his warm coffee. The cafe is warm and bright, despite the chill outside. 

 Things feel peaceful. Tender flakes of snow trickle down outside and frost up the shop’s window. There’s something about this time of year that strikes him down to the core. Something cozy, something warm.

 It’s odd to think this will be his first year not celebrating the holiday alone.

 Even if it is... well, fake. 

 The bell over the door chimes an arrival, and Namjoon can tell by the grumbles and grunts and stomps of snowy boots that it’s you.

 “Over here!” He calls, raising a hand and turning to face you.

 Wow, he thinks. You look gorgeous, even without trying.

 You hurry your way over to the booth and plop yourself on the opposite side, immediately lunging for the obvious mug of coffee waiting for you on the table. You don’t waste a minute gulping the liquid down your throat, then spluttering when you realize it’s still hot.

 “I thought you said it was getting cold!” You cry, airing out your burnt tongue. Namjoon can’t help but imagine that tongue sliding up and down his cock.

 Not now. Wrong time and place to get a boner.

 Namjoon smiles as he sips his cappuccino. 

 “I got you a fresh one.”

 You make a face, but your features soften. As if you’re pleased with the idea that Namjoon cared to freshen up your cup.

 “Oh, well--”, you manage. “Thank you.”

 Namjoon doesn’t reply, but merely tips his head. The silence is thick enough to cut with a knife. Normally, you’re both normally so wound up in aggravating the other that a moment of calm is strange, but not unwelcome.

 “So, why the early morning wake up?” You finally ask, fiddling with the handle of the mug.

 Namjoon settles his cup down.

 “We need to get to know each other. Deep shit, you know. The shit that lovers would know about each other.”

 He notices you, watches as you nibble at your lip. You try hard to hide it behind the mug you lift to your lips, but Namjoon notices. 

 “I’m hoping maybe we could spend the day together,” he adds. “I need to get some Christmas gifts for my family and… well, it’s rather lonely doing it on my own.”

 There’s a slight smile at the ends of your lips.

 “And you needed me at seven thirty in the morning to do that?”

 He stifles a laugh.

 “Like I said, I operate at regular human hours. Even on weekends,” he replies.

 With a dramatic sigh, you agree.

 “Fine,” you say. “I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”

 He watches as you settle into the seat of the booth, hands gripping the warm mug like it’s a personal heater. He notices you’re only wearing jeans and a sweater--no properly warm clothing for the snow storm ahead. He’ll have to fix that, and soon.  

 “What are you doing for Christmas?” He asks.

 You level a look.

 “Spending it pretending to be in love with you.”

 Namjoon can’t help but snort a laugh.

 “I meant after that.”

 You shrug as you settle back into the seat.

 “I don’t like Christmas. I don’t do much other than force Jimin to kiss me under the mistletoe and watch shitty movies with a gallon of boxed wine.”

 “Hmm,” he hums. “You’re sort of a Grinch.”

 A scowl comes over your face.

 “I am not! I just don’t buy into this whole ‘prove how much you love me by buying me things’ shit. It’s a big scheme, I tell you! Capitalist propaganda! They encourage you to spend all your money, and if you don’t, they shame and guilt you by telling you you don’t love your family enough.”

 Namjoon can’t help but laugh as you rant. It’s what makes you such a talented lawyer—your ability to feel a passion so deep within you you’re able to convince a stone-faced jury of your side.

 “Don’t laugh at me!” You cry. “I’m serious! My family doesn’t celebrate, I don’t celebrate. I’d rather just buy gifts for my loved ones when I see something they’d like. Why do we have to put a time of year on it?”

 He shrugs and scooches his mug around the carbonate table.

 “I suppose that makes sense,” he muses. “But you’re still a Grinch. And a Scrooge. You’ll definitely get visited by some Ghosts at midnight.”

 “Ha ha,” you snark sarcastically. “Hilarious, Namjoon. Don’t tell me you’re a big festive guy.”

 “Somewhat. It’s my Mom’s favorite holiday. It’s why she’s so bent out of shape about me having a girlfriend. Something about family and love and shit.”

 You nod, understanding him completely. Your own mother, despite her reservations towards the holiday, still makes a fuss over your single status. There must be some Mom code to obsess over your children’s woeful dating life.

 “Well, I say let’s get on with it then. Ready to hit the shops?” He asks.

 You’re mid-sip of your finally cooled coffee and you send a desperate look to the man in front of you.

“Already?!”

 “We’re burning daylight, baby.”

 Namjoon stands and you can’t help but feel a roar of flames in your belly at the pet-name. Your cheeks are surely flaming up and you admonish yourself for getting so peaked about such a trivial name.

 “Please don’t tell me we’re walking,” you murmur as you sneak a peek outside.

 The snow is falling down harder now, and you’re dreadfully underdressed for the weather.

 Namjoon tsks at your lack of outerwear, but then shakes his head.

 “No, we’ll take my Range Rover.”

 You roll your eyes and grimace.

 “Of course. You have a fucking Nespresso machine and a Range Rover. Asshole.”

 Namjoon doesn’t even think about it as he grabs your hand and laces his fingers in between yours. If anyone asked, he’d say it’s practice—to familiarize himself with the way your fingers slot between his own so it’s not such a foreign concept when he does it in front of his family.

 “Yeah, but I’m your asshole now, princess.”

 Christmas shopping with Namjoon is mostly painless.

 Normally, you dread the lines and the crowds and the confusion and the expense.

 But with Namjoon, you relax and banter away with the tall lawyer. You’re completely at ease as you walk through crowded aisles and sort through racks of cashmere sweaters and stacks of fuzzy blankets.

 “Mom will love this, don’t you think?” Namjoon asks, holding up a thick, exquisite looking blanket.

 You’re about to answer with an affirmative when you catch yourself. You don’t even know his mom. You’ve never met the woman. Why does it feel as if Namjoon is someone you’ve known your entire life? 

 Why do things feel so easy with him?

 “Sure, Namjoon,” you reply. “Seems like something most mother’s would be into.”

 He smiles at you. It’s a genuine smile too, one that nearly knocks you on your ass. Your body is sent into overdrive constantly. He holds your hand, he places his hand at the small of your back to guide you through a thick crowd. He calls you baby and princess and doll.

 It’s confusing.

 It’s amazing.

 You can’t tell if you love it or hate it.

 Namjoon pushes the shopping cart and walks beside you, chatting easily about his various aunts and uncles names that you likely must remember at some point but you just can’t think about anything but Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.

 You hate him. He stole that corner office from you. He’s going to take the promotion you want from right under your nose. He has a goddamn Nespresso in his office and a Range Rover. 

 And yet, you can’t help but fall in place next to him and listen to him tell stories of his childhood, weaving tales of uncles who snuck him his first sips of alcohol and aunts who spoil him rotten. He’s easy to listen to, a natural story-teller. Your body feels warm, as if you’re sitting on a large hearth by a roaring fire. He’s comforting.

 It’s infuriating and wonderful all at once. 

 “And that’s when my cousin Jungkook got caught smoking cigarettes. My grandma beat our ass so bad I couldn’t sit for a day.”

 Namjoon finishes his story and turns to look at you. You’ve been staring at the man for nearly a minute straight now.

 “Hey,” his voice is soft. “You listening?”

 You shake out of the trance Namjoon’s deep voice sends you into.

 “Yeah!” You reply with a smirk. “Sounds like this Jungkook is a guy I’d like to meet.”

 Namjoon sucks his teeth and nudges you.

 “Hey, you’re my girlfriend, remember.”

 You stick your tongue out at him playfully.

 “Fake girlfriend. I’m still a single, desirable lady at the end of the day.”

 Namjoon hesitates before answering. He wants to reply something snarky, something sarcastic and witty. But he takes a moment to pause, allows himself to fully immerse himself in you. Even hungover, in yesterday’s jeans and an old sweater, you’re still an absolute catch. You’re the definition of desirable and Namjoon can’t help but allow himself to desire.

 “Hmm, is that what you call it?” He asks, now allowing the sarcasm to permeate his words. “I was thinking you’re more of the spinster, cat-lady type.”

 “Hey!” You pout as you slap at his arm. “I’m allergic to cats!”

 “But you don’t deny being a spinster.”

 “Fuck you, Namjoon.”

 He grins and pushes the carts towards the candle aisle, a sure-fire gift for his aunties.

 “In due time, my love.”

  By the time Christmas Eve arrives, you’ve spent nearly every day with Namjoon. At work, he brings you fresh coffee from his Nespresso and buys you lunch. You’ve even landed his big case, an incredibly complex lawsuit that will showcase your skills. Namjoon gives you pointers and space to talk through the case with him.

Namjoon is, in fact, simply being kind. And it unsettles you.

 Your heart and brain are at war with each other constantly. You should hate him, loathe him. He’s going to nail that promotion regardless of what you prove to Seokjin.

 But your heart tells you he deserves it. He’s an incredible attorney and has earned every ounce of respect. You want Namjoon to get that promotion just to see that smile on his face. He’d do incredible things as Seokjin’s protege to take over the firm.

 You hate to admit it, but Namjoon has melted the ice around your heart. And you’re dreading the day after all this is over, because it will be the day Namjoon stops holding you close and pressing soft kisses to your temple. It will be the day he stops pretending this is all real.

 It’s Christmas Eve and you’re sitting in Namjoon’s expensive Range Rover, plush leather seat toasty from the built-in seat warmer. You can’t help but marvel at the way the oncoming headlights brighten up Namjoon’s features as he drives you down a snowy mountain lane. They always hold the Kim family holiday party at Namjoon’s late grandfather’s cabin in the mountains, a quiet getaway for the family to gather and spend the night together to wake up on Christmas morning and gather around for presents and food.

 Which means waking up to Kim Namjoon.

 It’s something you’ve dreamt of often, but denied yourself any actual possibility of it. Namjoon was always out of reach, and it was easier to hate him for his success he rightfully deserved than it was to admit the feelings that were always inside.

 And now, although it’s artificial, you can’t bear to think of not spending your time with Namjoon anymore.

 You steal a glance again at him, and smile as you hear his faint humming. He loves Christmas music. You learned that early in the week during another early morning coffee and ‘get to know you’ before work. Namjoon couldn’t stop singing Mariah Carey’s classic pop song under his breath as it played over the speakers in the cafe. 

 “It’s so pretty up here,” you muse as you force your vision away from Namjoon’s gorgeous face to the snowy scenery outside. 

 The snow is falling gently, not enough to cause a blizzard but enough to make it seem like you’re trapped in a picturesque snow-globe. Leaving the city and entering the magical forest stirs an emotion inside you you hadn’t felt in some time.

 It’s Christmas Eve and there’s just something magical.

 Ugh. Unbelievable.

 Namjoon has even made you actually enjoy Christmas.

 He nods. “Yeah, it’s my favorite place in the world, I think.”

 “I can see why,” you sigh. “It looks like a painting.”

 Namjoon glances over at you peering through the window. His heart hammers in his chest hard as your glittering eyes bounce around from tree to tree, a pretty smile on your face. The diamond ring in his pocket feels like it weighs a literal ton and he nibbles at his lip.

 He bought it for the showmanship of it all, initially. It was his first purchase he made when he set up this whole rouse.

 But now, it feels real. It feels like he’s really about to get on one knee and ask you, the girl he’s absolutely head over heels for, to marry him.

 And then it will be over.

 He’ll make up some story to tell his mom about how it didn’t work out and you’ll go back to being his coworker, and nothing more.

 Namjoon can’t fight the sinking feeling in his stomach.

 Nothing more.

 He pulls into the driveway before you even have time to realize you’re there. He puts the car in park and smiles over at you. 

 He looks so cute in his puffy winter coat, hair pushed to the side and a smile that’s all dimples and cheeks.

 Fuck.

 “We’re here,” he whispers. “You ready?”

 Suddenly, the nerves of meeting your fake boyfriend’s entire family slap you right in the face. You hope that you’re a good enough actress to get Namjoon through the night and into the morning.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 He nods and squeezes your hand, an unspoken comforting ‘I got you’.

 Namjoon gathers his wrapped gifts and stacks them all in his arms, ignoring your pleas and giggles to help carry them in.

 “No, no,” he assures. “I have to make sure my mom sees me being manly and helpful.”

 As if on cue, the front door opens and Mrs. Kim is bursting out into the snowy night.

 “Namjoon!” She shrieks, completely overjoyed. The rest of the family is standing by the door, eyeing you carefully with smiles and whispers. You pray to whatever Christmas God that’s listening that you can do this.

 Namjoon sets the pile of gifts down just in time to wrap his delicate and tiny mother in his arms, hugging her tightly while she gleefully buries her face into her tall son’s chest.

 “Oh, my son, I’ve missed you.”

 Namjoon kisses the crown of her head and smiles.

 “Missed you too, eomma.”

 The scene has you misty-eyed and you swipe at your eyes to stop the tears. There’s no way you’re ruining the fantastic makeup you did for the occasion, but the reunion of Namjoon and his mother is heart-warming. He clearly cares for his mother more than he would outwardly admit. 

 Namjoon and his mother unwrap from each other and Namjoon turns towards you.

 “Everyone, this is ____,” he breathes. “My girlfriend.”

 His mother’s gleeful squeals now turn to you, and within an instant she’s gathering you up in just as tight of a hug as she did to her son.

 “Oh, darling, we are so happy to meet you,” she beams.

 The excitement in her voice makes you feel bad—like you’re conning an old woman out of her retirement. You’re instilling a sense of hope in the kind woman, and you can’t help but send Namjoon a look as you wrap your arms around her and return the embrace. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t read.

 “I’m happy to meet you too,” you smile as you pull apart. “Thank you for letting me come.”

 “No thanks necessary,” she admonishes with a wink. “We had to beg Namjoon to bring you. It seems he wants to keep you all to himself.”

 “Eomma!” Namjoon snaps. “Be appropriate!”

 She nudges you with her elbow knowingly, which makes your cheeks flame hot, before she leads the way back into the house.

 “Come in, come in! Let’s get out of this snow.”

 Namjoon encourages you to step inside with a gentle hand at the small of your back—a touch that makes your body light up brighter than a Christmas tree.

 “Thank you,” he whispers in your ear from behind. You can feel the warmth of his lips and your body reacts.

How is it that any simple act makes you desperately horny for the man? You pray for some respite from your sexual frustration over the next day. How are you going to last over 24 hours?

 Namjoon deposits his massive haul of gifts under the tree and returns to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to bring you close. He introduces you to uncles and aunts and cousins. He even introduces you to his infamous cousin, Jungkook, who smirks at you in a way that makes Namjoon pull you in closer to his body.

 “Are you doing okay?” Namjoon finally asks after the rush of relatives greeting you dies down. He turns you towards him, to face him directly with his hands on either of your shoulders. “You’re killing it.”

 You can’t help but smile. Namjoon’s family is all incredibly kind and funny. They welcome you into the family with ease and it chips away a little more each time at your heart.

 Because this is all fake. 

 One day, Namjoon really will have a girlfriend to bring to Christmas and to show off to his relatives and it won’t be you. You’ll be back at your apartment, watching shitty TV re-runs and binging on Chinese takeout, as you do every year. It’s a jab at your heart each time the bitter truth rears its ugly head.

 “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m great.”

 “Look!” Jungkook shouts. “They’re standing under the mistletoe!”

 Namjoon blushes a shade of red that likely matches a blush on your own cheeks. Sure enough, the green branches of the mistletoe taunt you from above. 

 You’ve never kissed Namjoon before. In all the skinship and closeness of the last week, you’ve still yet to close the gap to kissing the man. 

 “Oh, come on Kook, that’s a stupid tradition,” Namjoon murmurs awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 Jungkook smirks as he steps up next to you.

 “Well, if you’re not going to do it, I’d be more than happy to take your place.”

 Jungkook wraps a loose arm around you and gives you a charming smile. He must be very popular with the ladies, you think. That’s a charming smile.

 “Hey!” Namjoon grabs for your hand and tugs you out of Jungkook’s predatory gaze. “She’s my girlfriend.”

 Namjoon looks at you for a moment, assessing your comfort level with everything about to take place. His lips look so inviting, so plush and warm. Now that you’re thinking about kissing him, you can’t help but focus on the way his lips pucker so gently and naturally.

 And then it happens. Namjoon lowers his face towards you and it feels as if the world is in slow-motion. It’s happening.

 The first press of his lips is soft and conservative. You take a split second to register, but instinctively you press against his lips with determination and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

 He groans softly as you trail your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opens for you without hesitation. His hands grip at your waist and bring your body flush against his. You can feel his cock twitching and rising from the kiss that’s gone from innocent and playful to passionate and deep. It feels like the world around you has stopped and the only thing that matters is Namjoon, his mouth, his body against your own. He tastes like hot chocolate and peppermint, and you want more, more.

 “Oh my god, stop,” Jungkook’s voice shatters your illusion of being all alone with Namjoon. “Now you’re just showing off.”

 Namjoon pulls away from you, eyes dazed as he tries to right himself. 

 “You two are just so perfect for each other,” Namjoon’s mother says, who’s suddenly appeared in Jungkook’s place. “Let me show you your bedroom.”

 “Oh, we’re sharing?” You ask without thought. It’s a large house, with ample bedrooms surely for you to have your own space.

 Namjoon nudges you in the ribs gently, eyes widening and mouthing a ‘what the fuck do you mean?’ 

 “Of course dear, don’t be silly,” his mother replies with an eyebrow waggle and a chuckle. “I remember when your father and I were dating. He would sneak into my room after my parents went to bed and keep me up all night long. Your grandfather would ask me if I had terrible dreams that night, because I looked so tired.”

 Namjoon makes a face. “Eomma, please,” he begs. “Please don’t talk about my parents like that.”

 As his mother guides you down a long hallway, your mind is whirring with too many thoughts of Namjoon, of sharing a bedroom with Namjoon, of seeing his sleeping face and waking up next to him. It’s all too much, too overwhelming. You pray there’s a couch in the room you could sleep on, because you’re far too weak and you’d rather fight the desperation in your body than face the fact that you want nothing more than to curl right into Namjoon’s strong arms and let him hold you all night to sleep.

 Fuck.

 “Here we are!” 

 His mother opens the door with grace, and flicks on the light. The room is beautiful in its simplicity. A king sized bed, a fireplace, and a balcony with a view of the sprawling snowy scene outside. It’s cozy and warm and decorated with its own Christmas tree.

 “Wow,” is all you can muster.

 “Aish, Mom,” Namjoon sighs as he drops his bags. “You didn’t need to do all of this for us.”

 Mrs. Kim holds his hand in both of hers. “Well, I know how special this Christmas is going to be,” she winks. “I want you to enjoy your time here. Now, I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. Dinner is in an hour, so ‘freshen up’!”

Another wink, and Namjoon makes another face. She definitely wants grandchildren, that much is for certain.

 She closes the door behind her and you’re left standing in the room, overnight bag in hand.

 “This is—Wow, this is amazing.”

 You’ve never experienced Christmas like this—with decorations and warmth and family. It’s as if the love of the Kim family permeates the very walls of the expansive cabin, like it’s built into the foundation itself. For a moment, you allow yourself to soak it all in. This is all yours. It’s your Christmas and you finally understand why so many make such a fuss over it. The results are nothing short of remarkable.

 “Yeah, she really does the most,” Namjoon laughs. 

 He takes the bag from your hand without your notice and you step towards the balcony to peer into the night. The landscape looks as if everything has been covered in soft marshmallow. The snow is untouched—picture perfect.

 “I’ve never had anything like this before.”

 Namjoon settles your bag and his on the bed, watching as you soak in your own wonder. The smile on your face is not one he sees often, one of pure joy. Namjoon swallows hard as he realizes he wants to be the one to always put that smile on your face.

 “Not such a Scrooge after all, eh?”

 You turn from the still-life view outside and back to Namjoon, where he stands at the foot of the bed. He looks so different outside the office. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a flannel shirt, his puffy jacket hanging by the door. No cream suit, no slicked back hair or shoes shiny enough to see your reflection. Just simply Namjoon.

 He’s no longer the man who steals the limelight in the office. He’s no longer the man you see as your adversary or your rival.

 He’s the man who’s showing you the magic of Christmas, the spirit of love and kindness that embodies the season.

 He’s the man you’ve fallen in love with.

 And yet, he’s the man who will leave once this is over and return to his proper life, and you to yours. He’ll return to sleeping with models and movie starlets, and you’ll return to binge watching Great British Bake-Off with Jimin and a carton of Chicken Tikka Masala.

 And Christmas will never feel as special as it does now. 

 So, you’re determined to soak in it for a little longer. It’s going to hurt regardless, so why not push that hurt off until tomorrow and allow yourself to pretend you live the lie you’re spinning for Namjoon’s family?

 “I think I’ll just freshen up and change into my dinner outfit, then?” You ask out loud, grabbing for your overnight bag and heading towards the ensuite.

 Namjoon, who expected a witty retort, takes a moment to reply.

 “Oh,” he coughs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll err—, I’ll just get ready out here.”

 You quickly escape into the bathroom, closing the door and resting on it as you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

 The tension in the bedroom with Namjoon was too thick, too powerful, especially after the kiss you just shared. His cock had been there, straining in his jeans as you licked into his mouth. The kiss felt so natural, as if you had always kissed Namjoon like that. Your heart beats loud and hard in your chest just from the thought of it.

 You really needed to get a handle over yourself. You still have dinner to get through, and an entire night in a bedroom with Namjoon. A bed with Namjoon.

 No, you won’t allow yourself to go that far. You can pretend you’re his girlfriend, but all thoughts of his delectable body doing scintillating things to yours is strictly off-limits. You shake all thoughts of a thick, heavy cock sliding into your mouth and warm hands spreading you open, and set about fixing your makeup and changing into the gorgeous cocktail dress you purchased for the occasion. It wasn’t often you got to get dressed up. The emerald green velvet dress clings to your body and highlights your curves. It’s a sexy dress, definitely, but also appropriate for a formal evening with your boyfriend’s parents.

 Well, your fake boyfriend. Right.

 After fixing your hair and buckling your heels, you take one last glimpse in the mirror for good luck and exit the room.

 Your breath is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you see Namjoon. 

You’ve seen him dressed up for court and for TV appearances millions of times, but you’ve never seen him like this.

 He wears a blood red button up without a tie, a few buttons open to emphasize the casual look, tucked into the tightest and sexiest slacks you’ve ever seen. They hug his thighs and sit at a spot on his waist that you just know is rippling with cut lines from his work in the gym. His hair is tucked back with a bit of hairspray, and he’s fixing the sleeves of his shirt when he sees you.

 His eyes widen and his hands fall to his sides as he soaks in your appearance.

 An absolute vision.

 He can see the gentle valley between your breasts and the way your dress pushes up your cleavage and displays your collar.  The dress follows the delicate curve of your waist and hips and ends at your knee, but teases him with a glimpse of thigh that has him wiping his mouth in case he’s drooling. 

 “You look incredible,” Namjoon murmurs as you step closer.

“So do you.”

 You swallow hard as he continues closer to you, breathing harshly as he stands right in front of you. You could reach out and unbuckle his expensive slacks and fist his cock right there. You’d fall on your knees for him, if he asked.

 There’s a moment of silence as Namjoon’s face inches closer and closer to your own, each unable to verbalize just how desperate either of you feel for the other.

 “Namjoon, I—,” you start. You want to tell him. You want to tell him everything—that you don’t want this to be fake, that you want this to be real, and you want to be his and his forever.

 “Yes?”

 You swallow hard, shaken by just how close his lips are to yours. He’s inches away and all you can focus on is the way his plush lips look and how well they fit against your own under the mistletoe.

 “I just—, I really um, I’m just very…” 

 You’re not making sense. Comprehension of language is quickly soaring out the window because the only words you know are ‘Please, for the love of God, kiss me and make me yours’, but you can’t bring yourself to speak them out loud.

 Namjoon’s hand cups your cheek, as if he can tell what you’re trying to say.

 “Yeah,” he breathes. The inches between you turn to centimeters, to bare millimeters. Your eyes flutter close as you feel his breath dance over your lips and your heart beats so loud you’re sure the entire household can hear it. He’s right there and moves in to close the distance—

 “Knock Knock!!”

 The forceful, cheery voice of cousin Jungkook forces both of you to jump away from each other as if you’ve touched a burning stove. Your head feels light, like you’ve forgotten to breathe for the last ten minutes and you’ve suddenly taken in too much air.

 The wooden door squeaks open and Jungkook pokes his head in, a shit-eating grin on his face.

 “Auntie sent me to get you. It’s dinnertime!”

 Namjoon rubs his face frustratedly. “Yes, thank you, Jungkook.”

 Jungkook doesn’t leave, however. He smiles at you and winks. 

“Would you like an escort to dinner, madame? You look tastier than the roast beef downstairs.”

 A blush creeps over your cheeks as Namjoon storms to the door where his cousin laughs.

 “That’s enough, Kook. We’ll be down in a minute.”

 He sends you one more grin, then retreats from the door and closes it behind him.

 “Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologizes. You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for—Jungkook, or the moment before.

 “It’s alright. Let’s go?”

 Namjoon nods and holds out his hand with a smile.

 “Let’s go, girlfriend.”

  Dinner with the Kim family is as delightful as every other interaction with them has been. They’re polite and funny and ask questions about your life and your family.

 They ask how you met Namjoon (at work), what your favorite quality about him is (his smile and his ass), and what your first date together was (coffee at seven in the morning).

 You tell stories of Namjoon in the office, of your best friend Park Jimin who’s secretly trying to date the IT manager, of your parents and Christmases past.

 By the time dessert is served, Namjoon’s mother looks at you as if you’ve put the very stars in the sky.

 Namjoon doesn’t miss that look either. He can see the way his family is falling in love with you and somewhere deep in his stomach, he feels the guilt rising. All of this is a lie. Not only is he going to break his own heart, but every heart of his family member’s too. 

 “We’re all just so overjoyed that Namjoon has found someone to share his life with,” his mom speaks softly. It’s the first time she’s been thoughtful and quiet. She’s a woman who’s larger than life, you’ve found, so the softness in her tone strikes a chord. “You’re absolutely perfect for him. I’ve never seen him happier.”

 Fuck. 

 “Thank you,” you murmur sincerely to his mother. “I’ve never been happier.”

 Namjoon peers up from where he’s been pushing around his uncle’s famous chocolate cake on his plate to watch as you speak.

 “Truthfully, I never cared much for Christmas. I thought it was a rubbish holiday and spent it alone every year with a bottle of wine and some takeout. Namjoon really changed that for me,” you smile at the man and place your hand in his lap to hold his free hand. “He showed me more about Christmas in one week than I’ve felt in my entire life.”

 Namjoon’s mom wipes away an errant tear and he squeezes your hand under the table.

 “I guess the Grinch’s heart has grown 3 sizes, after all.”

 Namjoon’s joke lightens the soft mood, and suddenly there’s chatter around as the family members move about to wash dishes and clean up the mess of dinner. Everyone leaves the table except for you and Namjoon.

 “That was some good acting,” he whispers with a sad smile.

 “Right,” you whisper back, nibbling your lip anxiously. “Acting, of course.”

  You should have thought through the bedroom sharing thing more.

 Because sharing a bedroom is one thing.

 And sharing a bed is another.

 And of course, the only pajamas you thought to bring tonight is a very sexy long shirt that says “no coffee, no talking” with a bedazzled pair of shushing lips. That’s it. Just a single shirt. Not even a pair of shorts or pajama pants.

 You slip into the bed first, as far onto one side of it as possible. It’s a king sized bed, and it still feels too intimate, too close.

 Namjoon exits the bathroom after his shower, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of flannel pajamas, leaving his bare chest on display.

 Sweet lord in heaven, you nearly cry out loud. He’s absolutely ripped, pecs defined and droplets of water from his hair streaming down. You want to chase each drop with your tongue and circle back again. You shut your eyes tight and clench your teeth. Why, oh why, does he have to look so fucking sexy at a time like this?

 Namjoon sees you at the edge of the bed, shutting your eyes closed like you’re a shy schoolgirl afraid to see a naked man’s body. He feels guilty for making you be here. He knows you’ve likely got better things to do than spend time with a man you openly hate.

 “I’m sorry,” he apologizes for nothing in particular. 

 You ignore it. Instead, you’re trying to think of every un-sexy thing in the world you can possibly imagine. Taxes, a bunch of bees, old people, shark attacks.

 There’s absolutely nothing that can stop the image of Namjoon’s perfectly sculpted body from bursting into your mind. You’re nearly pleading with yourself to just go to sleep and contemplate how hard you’d need to hit your head to knock yourself out as fast as possible.

 “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says as he grabs a small throw blanket from the closet and throws it to the ground by the fire.

 It snaps you from your musings of how best to forget how badly you want to suck Namjoon’s cock through his pajama pants.

 “What?” You sit up in the posh bed and finally make eye-contact. “Why? It’s freezing. There’s a literal snowstorm outside.” You motion to the window of the balcony. What was once a gentle snowfall is now a full-on winter storm.

 “There’s a fire. I’ll be fine, I sleep hot anyway.” Namjoon’s voice is low and without energy. He almost sounds sad.

 God, is being with you that hard for him? You know you’re just the artificial replacement until he has the real thing, but you’d actually hoped Namjoon had found it as comforting and warm as you had.

 “Namjoon,” you sigh. “This is a king-sized bed. You don’t need to be waking up with back pain because you gallantly slept on the floor.”

 To emphasize your point, you tug back the blankets on the other side, beckoning him to join.

 He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s weighing the pro’s and con’s and sliding into bed next to you in his mind, then stands and pads his way on the plush carpet towards the bed and slips in.

 There’s an entire football field of distance between you two in the bed, but it feels like he’s right beside you. You imagine sliding in right next to him, wrapping your arms around his taut chest and pressing soft kisses to his stomach.

 You squeeze your eyes closed again. Stop it, you horny slut.

 “Thank you, again.” Namjoon breaks the silence. “I really appreciate you helping me out.”

 “Yeah,” you swallow hard. “Of course. What else was I going to do? Jimin’s probably sucking Yoongi’s dick right now, so I’d be watching baking shows alone.”

 Namjoon laughs for a moment, then quiets.

 “You know, I don’t even really want that promotion at work.”

 You’re surprised by the sudden change in topic, but you turn over to face Namjoon.

“What?! Really?”

 Namjoon nods and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m that good of an attorney to get it, anyway.”

 His statement makes you sit up in bed again, staring at the man in disbelief.

 “Are you fucking kidding me, Namjoon? You’re the best lawyer in the firm.”

 Namjoon says nothing, just turns to stare at you curiously as you continue.

 “You’re like… literally better than Seokjin, too. The way you handled the Taehyung case was nothing short of historical. Like, that was an impossible case, and you nailed it. That was your ‘OJ’ case, you know?”

 Namjoon barks a laugh.

 “My what?”

 “Your OJ case!” You use your hands to emphasize the importance of what you’re saying. “Like, they’ll write about you and how impossible the odds were of winning that case. And you won it! Not even Seokjin could have won that case.”

 He’s silent again, watching as you speak directly from your heart with all the fire and passion you feel about the things you care about. It’s what makes you such an incredible lawyer, too.

 “Wow,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

 You settle back down from your excitement, suddenly bashful at how fanatical you became.  

 “You’re welcome,” you murmur. “You deserve that promotion. And the office.”

 Namjoon smirks.

 “And the Nespresso?”

 Your eyes narrow and send a glare to him he can see even with the faintest of light in the room.

 “No, no one deserves the Nespresso, except for me.”

 He chuckles and settles down into his pillows.

 “Goodnight,” he whispers.

 “Goodnight, Namjoon.”

 There’s a beat of silence and your eyes flutter shut easily. It’s quiet, and all you can hear is the crackle of the log in the fireplace and the wind blowing past the balcony windows as the storm outside rages.

 “Oh,” Namjoon whispers again. “And, Merry Christmas.”

 You can’t fight the smile that creeps onto your face.

 “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

  “Happy Christmas!” A voice bellows through your bedroom at approximately seven fifteen am.

 You groan, immediately grimacing and burying your face into your firm, warm pillow.

 “Nooooo,” you whine, trying to hide from the offending noise.

 Namjoon shakes awake, and notices Jungkook standing at the bedroom door once again.

“It’s time for presents!” He giddily explains. “And, they gave me the job of waking you two up.”

 “Of course,” Namjoon yawns.

 “You look a little wrapped up,” Jungkook smirks, eyeing your sleeping body. “I’ll give you two a minute. Don’t get distracted.”

 Namjoon rolls his eyes and watches as the door closes, before he turns his attention towards you.

 Somehow, in the middle of the night, you’ve scooched yourself to his side of the bed and draped your body around his. Your face is buried in his chest and your legs are haphazardly intertwined in his own.

 He bites his lip. His cock is rock solid, not just from his usual morning wood, but from the way he can feel your tits through your shirt, and from the sight of your pink panties. Namjoon wants to take them off with his teeth and bury his face in your delicious cunt, and his cock is nearly screaming at him to get on with it.

 “Hey,” he whispers to you, actively ignoring the demon that is his turgid length. “Wake up.”

 This causes you to cling harder to his chest, rubbing your sleepy face on him.

 “What is it with you and early mornings?” You ask, blearily raising your head to peer at him judgementally.

 Namjoon bites his lip, curious about your reaction to the tight embrace you’ve got on him. He doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to break the spell. Frankly, he wants to push your sleep shirt up and stuff you full of his cum.

 “Merry Christmas?” He offers shyly.

 You take a full minute to recognize what’s happening.

 You’re no longer on your edge of the bed. You’re wrapped around the man like a koala, legs strewn over him without care and clinging to him like he’s a lifeline.

 “Oh!” You gasp as you jerk out of his grasp. 

 In your movement, your leg brushes over an obvious tent in Namjoon’s pants, making him groan softly. You shut your eyes, embarrassed at how disgustingly horny you are for the man who’s not even interested in you sexually.

 “Christ, I’m so sorry,” your cheeks flame bright red and you scoot further from him.

 “No, no, don’t be,” Namjoon wheezes as he tries to fix himself. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine. It’s great. It happens. Don’t worry.”

 He continues to stammer out reassurances as he leaves the bed and bolts into the bathroom to fix his unruly tented pants, leaving you sitting atop the bed washed with shame.

 “Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you rub at your cheeks. “Get a grip of yourself.”

 Inside the bathroom, it only takes Namjoon a few fisted jerks of his cock and the mental image of you beneath him, begging for him, until he’s silently cumming on an expensive towel. He bites his free hand to stifle the moans he makes as his cock pulses.

 By the time he arrives back in the bedroom, you’ve changed into a hoodie and yoga leggings that accentuate your ass so delectably that Namjoon thinks about turning right back into the bathroom for a second round.

 “I’m sorry!” You nearly shout when he walks into the room. “About the bed. You were warm and I was cold. That’s all.”

 Nmajoon simply nods, doesn’t want to have to explain how he wishes he could wake up like that every day. Doesn’t want to describe in vivid detail how he’d wake you up with his tongue buried deep in your cunt.

 “Let me grab a shirt and we’ll head out, yeah?”

 Your eyes dance over the defined ridges of his body, a little crest-fallen at the idea that this might be the last time you see him shirtless, but you nod anyway.

 “Yeah.”

The ring box sits in a deceptively large box beneath the tree. Namjoon wrapped it last night and hide it at the very back. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as his family passes around gifts and opens each with squeals of delight.

 His mother gave him new ties for the office, ones that Namjoon prefers. She’s even gifted you with jewelry, which makes your eyes water at the sentiment.

 It all begins to be too much. It’s harder and harder to hold back the tears as each of Namjoon’s family members gives you gifts. It doesn’t matter the value, not at all. The fact that they specifically set out to include you in their gift-unwrapping makes your heart snap in two.

 This is all too much, it’s too real.

 It’s everything you never dreamed you could have. A loving partner who lets you sit in the space of his legs and rubs your arms soothingly. A family who goes out of their way to include you in the abundance of love and company. A cabin so warm and cozy.

 The tears don’t stop.

 It’s at the end of the gift exchange that you finally allow yourself to breathe. 

 “There’s one more,” Namjoon whispers as he moves from behind you and fetches a large box from behind the tree. “It’s for you, princess.”

 Curiously, and suspiciously, you eye him as he sets the enormous gift in your lap. You had done nearly all his Christmas shopping with him, and can’t remember a single thing he would have gotten for you.

 “I hope it’s the Nespresso from your office,” you snark with a smile. His family members all laugh and exchange knowing looks to each other.

 Namjoon doesn’t think he can breathe. He watches as you begin to carefully unwrap the large box, which reveals another box, slightly smaller. He can’t help but grin as you continue to unwrap the nesting-doll style gift until you’re down to the smallest one, the one that holds the ring box.

 With one last tear of paper, your eyes widen as you recognize the velvet box.

 “Oh--,” you breathe as you delicately pry open the gift.

 Inside sits a dazzling and gorgeous diamond ring. It catches the light from the fire and sparkles like a firecracker.

 “Oh my god,” you whimper as the tears flow again.

 He’s proposing.

 Namjoon settles himself onto one knee and tucks an errant piece of hair behind your ears.

 “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I knew from day one that you were always the girl I wanted to marry,”

 Namjoon’s speech sends daggers to your heart. He’s so convincing for something so counterfeit. 

 “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, much longer than we’ve been together. You’re who I want to come home to every night, and who I want to wake up with every morning.”

 It hurts. It hurts so badly that you’re crying even harder as he continues to speak. His family must think you’re simply overcome with emotion and love that the crying doesn’t give it away, but inside you’re absolutely dying.

 There’s no way you can recover from this.

 Tomorrow, Namjoon will take the ring back to where he got it from and return to what he had before. He’ll leave you behind, broken and hopelessly in love with a man who faked a relationship so well that you fell for it, hard.

 “____, will you marry me?”

 You take several large, gulping gasps to reply. You can’t shatter the illusion. Namjoon’s parents are weeping with joy, while his relatives record the moment on their phones and wipe away errant tears. Even Jungkook looks soft, proud of his cousin for taking the next step in his life.

 Oh, how you wish this were all real.

 “Yes,” you lie with a smile. “Yes, Namjoon, of course!”

 Namjoon grins and pulls you to standing, gathering you in his arms as he hugs you tight. His family cheers and hollers in the background, and you sob into his shoulder as you cling to him.

 He easily slides the diamond ring out of the box and onto your finger, where it sits and taunts you. The weight is heavy, and you whimper at the realization that this will never be for you. It will sit atop a pretty model’s finger sometime soon, when Namjoon resumes his regular life.

 “Oh, my darlings, I am so happy for you!” Namjoon’s mother appears and wraps you both in a hug, weeping and kissing cheeks. “We must discuss planning!”

 It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The tears and weeping turn to wracking sobs, which quiets the family as they watch you hold your face in your hands.

 “I’m sorry,” you apologize through your grief. “I—I just need a moment.”

 Without another word, you turn from the scene and bolt back towards the bedroom.

 It’s silent and Namjoon’s heart sinks. 

 This must be too much for you, too much for you to pretend to love him. He knew it was too much and he should have discussed it with you beforehand.

 “She’s just a little err--,” Namjoon tries. “Easily emotional. I’ll go check on her.”

 His family understands as Namjoon hurries towards the bedroom and gently opens the door.

 You’re sitting over your overnight bag, trying to shove any clothing into it you can, while you sob openly.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I should have told you. I sort of... told my mom I’d be proposing to my girlfriend.”

 There’s pain in your eyes as you snap your head up to look at him. It nearly destroys him.

 “You should have warned me!” You gasp. “Namjoon, I can’t do this.”

 Namjoon lowers his head and shoves his hands into his pockets of his pajama pants.

 “I get it. I know you want to go back to your regular life. I can take you home now.”

 You’re silent for a moment, standing and moving towards the man.

 “Don’t you get it, Namjoon?”

 He raises his head to look at you curiously, brow knitted together with confusion.

 “I’m in love with you, you asshole!” You cry, pushing at his chest. “I can’t continue to pretend this is real anymore. I love you, I absolutely love you and I can’t go on watching you pretend you love me too. It’s too much for me to handle.”

 Namjoon’s world freezes in time as he watches you slide the ring off your finger. He grasps your hand to stop you, his eyes boring into your own.

 “I never had to pretend.”

 Before you can speak, Namjoon cups your cheek and pulls you in close, mouth sealing over your own in a desperate kiss.

 You don’t fight it, not at all. You sink into his grasp and kiss him back with fervor, with all the pent-up emotions you’ve held back all this time.

 “I’m in love with you,” he whispers as he pulls away from the kiss. “I meant every single word I said.”

 More tears stream down your cheeks, and Namjoon is quick to wipe them away with his thumb.

 “I know it’s maybe too soon for us to really be engaged, but I—I want that, with you,” he adds. “I want you to be my girlfriend… for real.”

 “Are you being serious right now?” You ask as your hands cling to Namjoon’s waist.

 He can’t help but to laugh, nodding in reassurance as he leans down to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

 “Never been more serious in my life.”

 “I can’t believe you’re mine,” Joon murmurs into the nape of your neck.

 You were supposed to be driving home to your apartment now, back to real life, but the snowstorm raged on and Namjoon decided it might be best to spend yet another night in the cabin. Together. As a couple. A real couple.

 You didn’t put up much of a fight.

 He’s pressing soft kisses into your tender skin as he closes the door to the bedroom.

  “All mine, all mine.” He chants it like a mantra. 

 You’re trying to maneuver your way into the dark bedroom, only guided by the light from the fireplace. Namjoon stops you and pulls away from your neck, eyes soaking in every inch of you.

 “You have no idea what I’ve been dying to do to you,” he speaks after a moment of appreciating your beauty.

 “Hmm, I think I have some idea,” you say, a finger at Namjoon’s chest, directing him towards the bed. “I’ve been dying to suck your cock, Joon,” you whisper in his ear as he makes his way backwards. “Will you let me?”

 Namjoon nods in a daze as he sits on the edge of the bed and watches as you kneel. Your eyes are full of hope, full of lust. It makes his cock harden further.

 “Please do,” he breathes. “I’ve wondered what you’d look like with your mouth full of my dick.”

 You smile as you tug at his flannel pajama pants, pulling them down thick thighs and calves until they’re completely off. Your mouth waters at the sight before you. Namjoon’s cock is thick, head weeping with pre-cum and straining hard against his taut chest. He’s been working out more, you can tell. His arms are full and strong, and his chest is so firm and defined. 

 He’s an entire three-course meal.

 Before you move closer to his cock, Namjoon stops you.

 “Take your shirt off.”

 You comply easily, already settling well into an obedient role. He discards the shirt to the side and marvels at your breasts. He can’t wait to mark them up, suck them until you’re crying.

 “Perfect,” he sighs. “You’re fucking perfect.”

 He allows you to resume your work, eyeing the length of his cock before wrapping a hand around it and gently pumping.

 “Shit,” he breathes as his head falls back. “I’ve dreamt about how it’d feel having my cock in your hands.”

 “What else have you dreamed about?” You ask with a teasing smile, bringing your lips to the tip to paint tiny stripes. He tastes salty, somewhat earthy, and the pre-cum that’s gathered at the top gets swept up by your tongue. 

 Namjoon can’t believe how lucky he is. Can’t believe how incredible it feels to have you here, licking at his cock like a lollipop. He’s enchanted by the way your delicate tongue swirls around his head, testing and teasing.

 “You look so good, princess,” he whispers as he tucks stray hair behind your ears. 

 You’re encouraged by his sweet-talk and soon descend to take his cock fully in as far as you can go. You’re definitely out of practice, but you steel yourself up to take him completely to the back of your throat. Namjoon’s desperate moans and cursing only encourages you further.

 Soon enough, you’ve started a rhythm of bobbing your head and swirling your tongue and pumping your hand down his thick length. The noises leaving your mouth are sinful—slurping and sucking and whining around him. Namjoon’s got a hand on the back of your head, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail and coaxing your bouncing head further down his cock.

 “Oh, shit, baby,” he grits through a tight jaw. “I’m gonna cum baby girl, fuuuuckkk—oh god, yes baby, just like that.”

 You slurp and swallow around his cock as much as you can, head bobbing at a frantic pace while you cast your eyes upwards to the man to watch him come apart. He meets your eye contact and loses it at the fire burning in your beautiful eyes.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps as his cock pulses. “Cumming, baby—ohhhh, shit, take it all, baby.”

 After slowing your pace completely, you sweetly moan around his length as his salty cum splatters on your tongue. Bringing Namjoon to climax with your mouth is already one of your favorite hobbies, and you’re desperate to do it again.

 When he’s completely spent in your mouth, you pop off carefully and present your tongue to your boyfriend, who smiles.

 “You gonna swallow my cum, baby girl?” He asks, cupping your cheek sweetly.

 You nod in reply, and he groans as he watches you close your mouth and visibly swallow his load.

 “Fuck, that was so hot. Fucking kiss me already,” he demands, pulling you up gently by the hand and pressing his mouth to yours. He doesn’t care if he can taste himself still lingering in your mouth. In fact, he thinks your mouth should always taste like him.

 Namjoon holds you close as he kisses you, tongue diving around and seeking purchase in your mouth. His hands are roaming your body, cupping your breasts and caressing your curves. He can’t get enough. He doesn’t think there will come a time in his life when he won’t love touching you.

 His hand smoothes over the satin of your panties and he smirks into the kiss as he feels how wet they are.

 “Oh my,” he tuts as he rubs at your clothed slit. “All this from sucking my cock, princess?”

 It’s too late to be ashamed of it. You simply nod and whimper as his thick fingers rub at your core. You’re dying to feel those fingers inside you, scissoring you open to prepare you for his massive cock.

 “P-please,” you gasp, needing more of him. “Please, Joon.”

 He lets out a breath of contentment, loving the way his name sounds in your breathy moans. In one quick swoop, he flings your panties off and onto the floor and slides down to his knees where you knelt moments before.

 “I want to see this pretty pussy up close,” he murmurs as he lays you out at the edge and spreads open your thighs as wide as he can. 

 You’re gorgeous, absolutely mouth-watering. He licks his lips as he watches your folds drip with arousal and takes a delicate finger to trace the slit gently.

 “Fuck,” you gasp as he swirls his finger around your sensitive clit. It’s been so long since someone else has made you orgasm, you’re sure you won’t last a second with the man of your sexual dreams face-first in your cunt.

 “This is my pussy now,” he states as he leans in close and licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. “I’m going to make you cum every fucking night, baby. Gonna claim this cunt as my own.”

 You’re trembling from his words and his actions as he soon buries his face into your pussy and eats as if he’s a man starved. His tongue swirls around your hole before swiping up to your clit, making your back arch and keen off the bed. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit and sucks gently, lewd noises echoing off the walls of the bedroom.

 “Namjoon!” You squeal as he slides two of his fingers inside you and slowly pumps. They’re thick and perfect, and they’re better than you could have ever dreamed.

 “Cum for me, baby,” he coaxes as he licks at your clit. “I know you want to.”

 He’s right. You’re desperate for it and the string inside your belly that tightens with each thrust of his solid fingers has it nearing a snapping point.

 Namjoon speeds up, adds a third finger and fucks into you like a man on a mission. He watches your face pinch in agonized delight and is hypnotized by the way your tits bounce with each thrust up. His cock is rock solid again, aching to bury itself deep inside your womb and coat you with his cum.

 “That’s it, baby girl,” he breathes as he watches your body quiver. “Cum on my fingers, let daddy see you fall apart.”

 He presses his lips to your clit one last time and sucks, and it sends you reeling over the edge into bliss. Namjoon moans as he feels your cunt convulse and squeeze his fingers as if they’re his cock, and he nearly whines at how good it’s going to feel when he’s balls deep inside of you.

 “Fuck!” You cry as your back lifts off the bed and your legs shake. “Oh, my god!”

 Namjoon kitten licks at your pussy as you come down, cleaning up the juices that coat his fingers. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he does it, sucking up your essence like it’s an expensive wine he won’t waste a drop of.

 “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says as you try to catch your breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you in my office.”

 The smile on your face turns lustful as you spread your legs open once again and present yourself to him.

 “Why don’t we practice right now?”

 Namjoon grips the base of his cock and gives himself a few pumps as he stares at your gorgeous body—laid out and ready for him.

 “Merry Christmas to me,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to your lips and lines himself up.

 In one swift motion, he slips inside your juicy channel and buries himself to the hilt. You’re so wet and warm and tight that Namjoon falters and groans out loud.

 “Holy shit,” he cries. “Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt in my life.”

 Namjoon filling you up to the brim is something you’ve only ever dreamt of, and now that it’s happening you feel intoxicated. He’s so thick inside you, stretching you past what you thought you could handle, and the burn is so sweet.

 “Fuck me, Joon,” you beg as he continues to still inside you. “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

 It’s the magic word for Namjoon and instantly he’s snapped back to feral, ready to claim you as his own. He grips your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, delighted by the squelching juicy sounds of your cunt as he takes you.

 “That’s right, baby girl, I’m your fucking daddy,” he grunts. “Take this fat cock for daddy.”

 Your legs quiver with each thrust and Namjoon sucks a nipple into his mouth, nibbling gently on the bud which makes your body thrum with electricity. He’s marking you, claiming you inside and out, you realize. You whine and keen for him to continue, and Namjoon growls as he doubles his pace. 

 He thrusts into you without abandon, desperately seeking his release that will have him spilling his cum anywhere he possibly can.

 “Mmm, look at my pretty princess,” he groans as he stares at your blissed-out face. “Taking daddy’s cock so good, being a perfect little slut.”

 His words make your eyes roll back into your head. You’d never had someone speak so nasty to you while being so kind and praise-worthy that you don’t think you can now ever live without it.

 “G-gonna cum, daddy!” you cry as you feel your body nearing the edge. “Please let me cum!”

 Namjoon gasps for air and drops a thumb to your clit to rub circles on the sensitive bundle.

 “Yes, baby girl, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock, princess.”

 Namjoon’s unrelenting pace and thumb handily stroking your clit brings you to the end, sending you screaming into orgasmic delight.

 Namjoon nearly weeps at how good your cunt feels convulsing around his cock, walls coaxing him and gripping him tight as if your pussy is begging for his own release. 

 “Cum inside me daddy, please,” you beg as you try to catch your breath. 

 Namjoon needs no more permission. He gasps as your channel tightens around him impossibly and sends him into his own release. He whimpers as his cock pulses with ferocity, loads of cum splattering your walls.

 He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours as you both try to catch your breath.

 “Holy shit,” you gasp as you feel yourself returning to Earth.

 Namjoon laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, before nodding.

 “Yeah,” is all he can manage.

 After a few shuddering breaths, you wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s naked body and hold him close, as close as you can.

 “If this is what Christmas is all about, sign me up.”

 Namjoon buries his face into your neck and kisses you sweetly, before lifting and giving you a playful smile.

 “I guess all Scrooge needed was a good fuck. Dickens got that part all wrong.”

Returning to work after the New Year was easier this year than it had ever been in your career.

 Namjoon was given the promotion. He told Seokjin he wanted to keep his corner office near you because he “likes the view”, and that he would give all his top cases to the best lawyer in the office—you.

 Jimin won’t stop screaming when he sees the diamond ring on your finger. You haven’t wanted to take it off since the moment you put it on. Maybe it’s not an engagement ring quite yet, maybe it’s just more of a promise. Either way, Jimin is ecstatic and confused as he shakes you down for answers.

 He walks with you to your desk, chattering away about his week with Yoongi, while you sip your convenience store coffee.

 “What the fuck?” Jimin asks as he notices something on your desk. “What is that?”

 As you round the corner, your eyes catch sight of a gleaming silver contraption on your desk, right next to your brand new computer.

 A Nespresso.

 A smile crosses your lips as you approach the expensive machine and notice a folded up card on top.

 Inside, the card is simple.

 “To the only girl in the world who deserves a Nespresso. Love, Namjoon.”

taglist - @ardoren​ @devilion14​ @bykookie​ @rageyoudamnednerd​ @holynamtiddies​ @thejooncrew​ @dee-ehn​ @yrc1963 @fireheart2003​

[httpdabi]

Nothing special

Word count: 2.0k

Genre: smut, I don’t even know anymore

Warnings: 18+, dom!Dabi, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie (once again, pls use condoms lmaooo)

,, Babe, I was just joking around’’ Touya cooed on the other line, forcing you to put the phone away as you took a deep breath, trying to calm your tits down.

,, You are always joking around. Some things are kept private Touya’’ you whined, wishing your boyfriend actually understood the meaning of the word privacy. Closing your eyes, you weren’t even sure if he bragged about it to make himself cooler in front of his friends, or because he simply thought it was alright to talk about it. Once Mina told you that he was holding a speech about your sexual life with his friends last night, you almost wished you were never born.

,, Babe, they are my friends, they won’t tell anyone if you’re worrying about it’’ he said with almost apologetic voice.

,, Well guess what, one of them already told Mina’’ you tried not to scream, as you walked fast, face red from all the embarrassment you felt at the moment.

,, You know what, we’ll talk when you calm down’’ Touya hissed, hanging up fast after it. You wanted to scream in frustration and smash your fucking phone onto the cold street, but yet you stopped yourself , not wanting to make a fool out of yourself in front of the crowd of strangers.

The moment you got into the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, you sighed in relief once you realized that he ain’t home. The moment you found out about him not being able to keep his mouth shut, you felt like all the stares were directed to you.

,, Piece of shit’’ you whined, as you took your phone out of the pocket of your jacket. A sudden idea popped up in your mind. Grinning widely, you texted your best friend, telling her to be online in the next few hours, making sure she’ll have some time for a small call once Touya comes back home.

Instead of preparing the dinner, you ordered a pizza for yourself. You knew very well how much he loved when you cook for him, and how much he’s thankful for it, and it almost made you feel bad about your decision, but yet you managed to push the thoughts away, remembering about the conversation he had with his stupid friends.

,, Submissive bitch my ass’’ you hissed, choking onto the small piece of pizza. At some point all the disappointment and sadness was long gone, as anger and frustration took over you.

Not even trying to clean up the mess you made, you simply went into the bedroom you shared with him, and changed, wearing your purple oversized shirt. Sure, you loved wearing his shirts, somehow something that simple, gave you so much comfort. But not today. Today you wanted to burn everything that was his.

,, Baby, I’m home’’ you heard him say, as he slammed the door. Ignoring his words, you just hopped into the bed, trying to calm yourself down a bit. You acted as you were asleep, once you heard his steps coming closer to the bedroom the two of you shared.

,, What ? No kiss today?’’ he asked, knowing very well that you are wide awake. It was foolish of you even to think that you could fool him.

,, Ask Shiggy for a kiss, I heard he’s as submissive as I am’’ you hissed, hiding your face in the covers, still not brave enough to face him.

,,Oh? You’re still not over that?’’ he asked again, leaning onto the wall. If your behavior wasn’t so annoying at the moment, he would probably find it cute how frustrated you were over something so small. Turning around, he left you alone, wanting to give you some time for yourself, only to find you hopping out of the bed.

You followed him into the living room, courage taking over your body, once you realized that he’s calm as fuck and not affected by your reaction at all.

,, You’ve gotta be kidding me doll’’ he gasped once he saw the mess in kitchen, and leftovers of your pizza placed all over the counter. ,, At least throw the leftovers away’’ Touya added, pushing the small box to the side.

,, Clean it yourself if it bothers you that much’’ you spat, as you hopped onto the couch, turning the TV on. A dangerous smirk appeared on his face, once he realized what kind of game you were playing, not wanting to give in.

You tried to concentrate on the stupid movie you found on Netflix, as he prepared the dinner. A small part of you wanted to push him away, and simply make anything for him, but yet another part of you was telling you to sit the fuck down and ignore him.

The fact that he wasn’t paying much attention to you was pissing you off. You hoped small stuff like that would piss him off, but yet he was so calm.

Standing up, you texted Mina, checking if she’s online, as you hopped onto the tall chair next to the counter. You noticed that he was giving you a side eye, checking you out every now and then, as you just texted someone on your phone.

,, Who are you texting ?’’ curiosity took over him. You weren’t the one to text people, and if you were texting someone just to piss him off, then you were on a good way.

,,A friend’’ you simply stated, ignoring the confused and almost mad look on his face.

,, Which friend? ‘’ he asked almost immediately, his grip around the wooden spoon he was stirring the food with, grew much stronger without him even realizing.

,, You don’t know him’’ you gave him a simple answer, more than satisfied with the reaction he was giving you. Placing the Airpods in your ears, you turned the volume down as you answered Mina’s call, not giving him a chance to say anything else.

,, Heyy babe, I’ve missed you so much’’ you squeaked happily, as Mina laughed on the other side, talking some nonsense, while you answered some bullshit. Touya’s eyes widened in shock as he turned the stove off, turning around to face you as you talked with the unknown person.

,, Yeah, I’m still with him’’ you smiled widely, faking the whole conversation with Mina. The moment you realized that all of his attention was placed on you, you took a next step, hardly holding the laugh to yourself.

,, Yeah I know. No, it’s not hard to take it, his dick is nothing special, but it’s about the technique, you know? ’’ you said, biting onto your nail, as you tried to ignore the shocked expression that was written all over Touya’s face. Sure, he tired to act all calm, but there was a line and you just crossed it.

Grabbing the phone out of your hand, he looked at the unknown number that was on your screen. A small smile formed on your face, as you felt grateful that you remembered to delete Mina’s number in case something like this happens.

,, Who’s this?’’ he asked almost aggressively, only for Mina to hang up on him the moment she heard his voice. As much as you tried to stop yourself, a smirk formed on the corner of your lips, glad that he could get a taste own medicine.

The smirk long gone, once your phone flew across the room and his hand found its way to your throat. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, but in your opinion, it was all worth it. Every fucking second of it.

,, You have a death wish ?’’ Touya hissed, his grip around your throat getting much stronger. The moment you nodded your head, he pulled you up, pushing your body down onto the counter.

,, Sure my technique might be good, but as much as I remember, you were crying about my dick not fitting in?’’ he said, making it sound like he was questioning you. ,, Guess, I’ll have to remind you about it’’ Touya added, flipping you over. One hand gripping onto your hair, as he pushed your upper body over the counter, and his other hand ripping your panties apart, throwing them on the floor.

Without a warning, he slammed his dick into you, making you scream as the pain took over your body. It was weird how even tho the two of you fucked every night, he was stretching you out like it was your first time.

He didn’t give you any time to adjust, snapping his hips against your own at a ruthless pace. There was no need for it, it was a punishment in the first place and as you said, his dick is nothing special after all.

Somehow you managed to grab onto the edges of the counter, as he roamed into you fast and deep, hitting your cervix with every move he made. Closing your eyes, you tried not to moan, you tried not to show him any sign of pleasure you felt in that very moment.

,, What’s wrong baby? I thought you can take it’’ he groaned, yanking your hair back. The whole situation was turning him on way too much, your bratty attitude, the way you are bent over the counter for him and the small whimpers that were escaping your lips every now and then.

,, I-I’m glad.. I’m glad you could feel the way .. The way I did’’ you managed to say, catching your breath in between every word you said.

,, Shut your bratty mouth’’ he hissed, his grip and moves getting only stronger. A loud moan escaped from your mouth, once you felt him hit your g spot. Closing your eyes, you wiggled your body a bit, giving him a sign that you are close. Like he didn’t know already. If someone knows your body, it’s Touya. He simply knows everything about you, he knows when you’re upset, sad, when you’re hiding something from him. He knows when something is wrong, when you are in pain, and the best he knows is when you are about to cum.

He didn’t plan on making you cum, he wanted to punish you and leave you on your own once he’s done with you. He wanted to make you beg for him, he wanted you to finish yourself with nothing else than your own fingers. He didn’t want to give you that pleasure of reaching your high, you didn’t deserve it, yet once he felt you moving your body closer to his, and once he heard the small moans coming out of your mouth, the thought he had was long gone.

,, Right here?’’ he asked, his fingers on your clit, rubbing small circles. You couldn’t even answer him properly, only nodding your head, as you squeezed your eyes shut. Toyua grinned once he felt your walls tightening around his dick, making him fuck you even harder than he already did. If that was even possible.

,, Oh God, Touya’’ you moaned loudly, repeating his name all over again, as you came all over his dick. Touya continued to fuck you, reaching his own high shortly after. The moment you felt his warm seed deep inside of you, you sniffed quietly, disappointed with the fact that you were once again so weak and nothing else than submissive bitch for him.

,, Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay’’ Touya whispered, turning your body around and placing small and soft kisses all over your face. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, and the way you acted in that very moment broke his heart.

,, I’m sorry baby, I’ll make everything better, I’ll never talk about our love life ever again’’ he added, pulling you into a tight embrace.

,, Promise?’’ you whispered, slowly rubbing your eyes as he showered you with billion small kisses. You knew that he didn’t mean any harm with his reckless talk, you knew he never wanted to hurt you.

,,Promise’’ he said, and you believed him, like you always did.

[peaceisadirtyword]

Heathen VI (Ivar/Edlynn)

A/N; Hello!♥️ I’m back after a short, holiday break! And even if these next weeks are going to be chaotic, I will try to keep posting Heathen once a week as I did before! There’s only another four (five with this one) left until the end👀, so I hope you enjoy it a lot🥰 I didn’t have time to reply to your comments on last chapter but I read all of them and I’m so happy to see you’re liking it🥺 thank you so much, it means the world🙏🏻 took a bit longer to finish this one because I wasn’t too convinced but I hope you like it too♥️

Warnings: smut ( 👀), talk of feelings, my cringey writing, Ivar is the best, mentions of alcohol, violence, sex and talk about arranged marriage and religious things!

Words: 4823 (will I ever stop)

Heathen Masterlist

gif belongs to @therealcalicali​

"We could move here" Harald pointed at the map. Hvitserk followed his finger and pressed his lips together. Maybe a bit risky, he thought, but he didn't dare contradict the king because of strategical differences, that was Ivar's job "It's closer to the sea, and it would be easier to run away if the saxons decide to attack us once we don't have the saxon girl as leverage"

"It could be" he nodded, as he waited for Ivar's opinion. But as the minutes passed and his brother didn't say a word, Hvitserk raised his head to look at him. 

Ivar was sitting in front of him, with a drink on his hand, but looking away. He didn't seem to be even listening to what they were saying, and when Hvitserk's eyes followed his gaze, he understood why. 

His lips curved on a small smirk and immediately turned to look at Harald, who also seemed amused to have caught the ruthless Ivar the Boneless sneaking glances to a lady. 

Edlynn was sitting on a cut tree, not very far away from them, and her eyes were fixed on a book that Hvitserk had seen on Ivar's tent. She only had a couple of guards with her, and her wrists were untied, giving her much more freedom than Hvitserk ever thought Ivar would give her. 

"Ivar" he called his name, making him turn his head with a frown, almost like he was annoyed by his interruption "Are you listening?"

Harald held back a laugh when Ivar blinked, somewhat confused, until he spotted the map and the pieces the king had moved, and seemed to get out of his trance. His cheeks reddened softly, but he pretended not to realize as he scrutinized the map, trying to remember what had changed since Edlynn stepped out of the tent and his eyes wandered off. 

Hvitserk raised his eyebrow. He already knew what was going on, since he caught Edlynn leaving the tent with swollen lips more than once and had seen them sleeping together, with her face hidden in Ivar's neck. But at first he thought his brother was just having some fun, not falling for the saxon girl. Those glances said otherwise. 

"It would be risky" Ivar cleared his throat "I don't think Alfred would attack us once Edlynn is with him" 

Harald raised his head again. Edlynn? He didn't know when Ivar started calling the prisoner by her name, but found it amusing. 

"Then what do you propose?" Hvitserk tried to ignore it, but he would ask his brother about it "Shall we stay here?"

"I think we should move a bit closer to the boats, but not like it seems we're retiring" he shrugged "But it's your decision, king Harald"

Harald had gotten used to the mocking tone whenever Ivar said his title out loud. He didn't really care, it had started to sound like a joke to him too. 

"I will think about it tonight, and tomorrow we'll decide" 

But just when he was about to stand up, maybe too eager to go back to his tent, a guard approached them. 

Edlynn pretended not to realize he was staring. Neither of them talked about it but both of them seemed to think the same: no one should know of their... Affair? She couldn't help but blush whenever she thought about it. Well, she didn't even know if it could be considered an actual affair. There had been kisses, some more innocent than others, Ivar had touched her body in a way no one had in her entire life, she had let her hands wander down his strong arms and chest, but nothing more. It was still a sin, something she didn't want people knowing. Edlynn would be mortified if someone heard about it, about what she was doing with a... Heathen. 

But the thing that alarmed her the most weren't the kisses or the caresses, not even the fire that Ivar awakened in her, but the warmth that expanded through her chest whenever she saw him, the smiles, the little laughs, the reddened cheeks... She couldn't think about anything else that weren't his blue eyes and his pouty lips, nor could pray in peace without remembering how soft his hair was under her fingers or what a beautiful smile he had. Every night she promised she'd stop, that she wouldn't let herself fall in love with him, but sometimes, especially under the furs and between his arms, she thought there was nothing she could do now. 

It was temporal, Edlynn tried not to think about what would happen when she had to go back to her family, to Lord Edmund, the man who was supposed to be her husband. Would she ever feel the same with him? Probably not, and the thought saddened her. It was such a beautiful feeling she wished she could carry forever. 

Even if it was hard, and even if she knew many people in the camp suspected it, Edlynn tried to act like nothing had happened. They barely talked to each other in public, but she noticed he was always close to her, or at least close enough to be able to watch her. She liked that. 

Edlynn was reading, but she hadn't turned the page in what felt like hours, too focused on the glances that certain man threw her way and on hiding her blush. Until someone else approached the three men that sat down not too far away from her. She raised her head, interested, as the man seemed to carry important news. Even if she had understood their language, she wouldn't have heard anything, as the noise of the camp was too loud. But she could see the king with a big smile, celebrating something. And Ivar had frowned and his eyes were now fixed on the ground at his feet. 

When he finally looked her way again, he ignored the silent question on her eyes and looked directly at the guard that stood next to her, pointing to his own tent with his head. And Edlynn was practically dragged towards it. 

____________________________________

That night they celebrated. The reason was still a mystery to her, but Edlynn tried to ask every single person that entered the tent, from Brianna to Hvitserk, without receiving any answer. She could hear the happy screams and laughs, and figured it couldn't be bad, right?

At least not for them. 

A shiver travelled down her spine when she thought about her family, would they be alright? Had those heathens killed them?

And then Ivar came back. 

His eyes were bright and Edlynn figured he had been drinking too. His movements were slow, and let himself fall on the bed with a grunt, letting his crutch go before rubbing his face with his hands.

"Hello" Edlynn raised an eyebrow, why do men drink so much if they feel bad afterwards? 

"Hi, princess" he muttered, grunting "How was your day?" Ivar sat on the bed, sighing. It had been a long day, and it seemed it would be a long night too. 

"Clearly not as interesting as yours" 

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't turn to look at her. 

"I was trying to negotiate" he shrugged "And king Harald negotiates better when there's ale" 

"Negotiate what?" Edlynn narrowed her eyes, moving a bit closer to him. 

_____________________________________

"The saxons will agree to our terms" the messenger smiled proudly as he delivered the news "They will pay, and give us land and time to settle" he nodded "In exchange for the saxon girl" 

Harald's laugh startled Ivar, who stared at the messenger intensely.

"Of course they will!" he celebrated, nodding his head and patting Ivar's back softly "You were right, once again" 

He shot him a fake smile, which faded as soon as the king turned to Hvitserk. He thought he'd have more time, that asking for such a ridiculous amount of gold, land and a truce would be too much to give for just one girl, and that the saxons would try and change the terms. That would've given him weeks, even months. His eyes went back to where Edlynn was sitting, and silently told the guard to take her away. 

"The saxon king said they shall wait for us in the battlefield to make the exchange, and that the girl must be unharmed and well, otherwise they won't give us what we asked for" 

"Thank you, my friend" Harald patted the soldier's shoulder with a bright smile "Go, eat and rest, tonight we'll celebrate" 

Hvitserk didn't stop looking at Ivar. He noticed how he clenched his jaw and licked his lips repeatedly. He felt his own lips curving on a smile, but just slapped his head playfully. 

That night they did celebrate. Everyone sang, drank and ate next to the king, around a fire. Another victory, thanks to Ivar. But Ivar didn't seem too keen on participating on the celebrations.

"What's it, Ivar?" Hvitserk sat next to him as he saw him pour the ale on his horn for the fifth time "Aren't you happy to get rid of the saxon girl and get paid for it?" he chuckled, but his brother didn't laugh with him. 

"I just think..." Ivar clenched his jaw again "Maybe the price is too low" 

"Low?" Hvitserk raised an eyebrow "We didn't think they'd agree, it's too much, that price would fit a queen, but not a noble girl" 

"Yes but they did agree to it" he shook his head "What if... What if we ask for more?" 

"They would say no, and the negotiations would continue, we don't want that" his older brother frowned and shook his head, taking another sip from his horn "Because we don't want that, right?" 

"No" Ivar replied maybe too fast, and then scowled "It's just that I don't think we've benefited enough from holding her captive, she's obviously more important than we thought" 

"Well, dear brother, if I'm honest, I think you've benefited quite a lot from having her here" he chuckled, patting Ivar's leg softly. His brother widened his eyes at him, but managed to hide his surprise and go back to scowling.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hvitserk" 

"Sure" he laughed, shaking his head "Sure, you don't know, but it's quite obvious, Ivar" he shot him a soft smile "I can't blame you, she's pretty, innocent... I thought you didn't like saxon girls" 

"Shut up" he rolled his eyes, but Hvitserk saw the little smile he tried to hide "I'm not trying to keep her here, I just want to make sure we get the deal that benefits us the most, that's all" 

"Fine, I believe you" this time it was Hvitserk's turn to roll his eyes "Tell Harald, then, but I don't think he will agree" 

"I was waiting for him to get drunk" Ivar shrugged, making his brother laugh. 

"Good luck then" Hvitserk winked at him before getting up "Want advice?" 

"No" 

"Don't fall in love" he ignored him "That doesn't end well" 

_________________________________

Ivar finally gave up, and went back to the tent, in need of some peace and maybe the soft touch of the woman that sat on he bed behind him. Harald didn't listen, and they kept celebrating. 

"Your king agreed to our terms" he said, finally turning his head to look at her. Edlynn wore another dress they had found for her, with her auburn hair loose, and she looked so beautiful Ivar had to blink a couple of times. He wanted to see her reaction, would she be happy? Or would she feel as weird as he had been feeling all day?

But instead she looked confused. 

"What... What does that mean?" 

"That means we'll meet them in a few days and I will let you go"

Edlynn gasped, but instead of feeling relieved and thankful, eager to see her family again, to see Mildrith, to go home... She looked into those ocean eyes and only felt a strange emptiness inside her. 

I must be insane, she thought as she crawled closer to him. Ivar's eyes didn't left her face, almost like he was waiting for her to smile, laugh and sigh in relief. 

Edlynn didn't do any of those things. 

"Aren't you happy?" he gulped. 

"I... I suppose I am" she muttered "But..." 

I know, he thought, nearly desperately. He couldn't describe it either. 

"You'll go back to your castle, you'll marry your lord, you'll be with your family and will have a church to pray to your God every time you want" 

"Yes, but..."

"Wasn't that what you wanted?" he sounded sharper than he intended. 

"I don't want that anymore" Edlynn scowled "I don't want to go back and marry, I don't want to spend my days sewing, gossiping with other women and praying"

Not so long ago, she wouldn't have even imagined she'd say those words, that was her life, a life she had enjoyed and lived happily. But now... Now she had tried other things, new things... Was it that bad to want to keep them?

"I know it's my duty" she continued, the tears threatened to fall down her cheeks, but she held them as she had been taught "And I know I will have to do it someday but I... I will miss you"

Ivar looked away, clenching his jaw again and hoping she didn't see the tears filling his eyes. The thought of entering that tent and finding it empty, without the familiar presence of the annoying saxon girl praying or reading, of spending his nights studying maps alone instead of the books in latin Edlynn would read for him, or talking about the Gods, about the adventures of Thor and Loki or the golden apples of Idunn was... Not what he wanted. 

Not even the possibility of conquering England was helping. 

He felt Edlynn getting closer, and her small hand, with her soft fingers that had never held any kind of weapon, touched his shoulder. Ivar felt dizzy, but couldn't know if it was because of the ale or because of her. 

"I will miss you too" 

The words left his lips before he could hold them back, and when he raised his head to look at her, Edlynn had the biggest smile on her lips. She almost made him smile too. 

"I... You could come and visit me someday?" she muttered, biting her lip "My friend Mildrith would love to meet you, she's obsessed" 

Ivar raised an eyebrow. 

"Do you think your father or your husband would let me visit you? You're supposed to hate me" 

Edlynn's smile faded. 

"I don't hate you" she tilted his head in an adorable way, and Ivar had to look away again "You were a bit mean at first, but you're not like they say you are... And he's not my husband" 

"Yet" he shrugged "What do they say about me?" 

Edlynn giggled, shaking her head.

"Mildrith said you're the Devil, in a human shape, that you are ruthless and... I heard you drink blood and eat human flesh" 

Ivar couldn't help but laugh. 

"I don't eat human flesh" he scowled in disgust "Do you think I could be that Devil you talk about?"

Edlynn took a deep breath, and her fingers caressed softly his cheek. 

"You could be" she said, nodding slowly "You're smart, ambitious, ruthless, but also beautiful, like a fallen angel" Edlynn blushed "You do tempt me to sin"

Ivar smirked, humming in delight. She had a lot more to say about his looks, but decided to keep it to herself to avoid feeding his ego. 

"And you would invite me, the heathen who tempts you, to your home with your father and your husband?"

Edlynn blushed again. 

"He's not my husband" she repeated.

"But you're going to marry him, princess, he will be your husband soon, unless..."

His eyes fixed on the axe he had next to the bed, and Edlynn gasped and punched his arm. 

"Don't even think about it!"

Her reaction amused Ivar, who shook his head laughing. Even if he wasn't actually joking. 

"Lord Edmund is a good man, a good christian, he will take care of me" she said quietly, almost trying to convince herself "And it will be a good thing for my family"

"From what I've seen, princess, you don't need anyone to take care of you" he sighed, leaning to undo his braces. She smiled at that, feeling that warmth fill her body again. It was a huge compliment coming from him. 

When he finished taking off the braces and removed most of his clothes Edlynn was already under the furs, her eyelids felt heavy but she forced herself to stay awake. She wanted to enjoy every moment she had left with him, knowing she wouldn't see him again. They still had some days, though, that comforted her. 

Ivar nearly moaned when he finally was able to lay on the bed. His eyes had been a bit more blue that morning, so it had been a difficult day. Edlynn watched him in silence, amazed by the perfection of his features. How could he be the Devil when he looked sculpted by God? He was too beautiful to be impure, but then again, he was a heathen. Her mind went back to his wife, and a strange pang of jealousy stroke her. What would he do if she kissed him now? 

"It's rude to stare, princess"

Ivar had an amused smirk on his lips, which only grew when he saw Edlynn's glare. 

"Remember when I said I'd miss you? Well, I take it back" 

That made him laugh. 

"Go to sleep, little one" he muttered, already closing his eyes "Maybe I can teach you some more archery before you leave, but only if you rest" 

He could hear a little gasp and imagined her excited smile, but didn't open his eyes until he felt her crawling closer to him and leaning her head on his shoulder. When he did look at her, she was already ready to sleep, with her eyes closed and breathing slowly. 

"Good night, heathen"

Ivar couldn't help but smile, too. 

"Good night, princess"

______________________________________

Ivar was cold. He stirred in his sleep looking for the source of warmth he was missing, but opened his eyes when he couldn't find it. 

The bed was empty, he frowned and pawed at the furs, confused. Where is she? 

The thought of her escaping made him more sad than angry, and he was nearly gasping when he finally spotted her. Edlynn sat on the wooden stool next to his table, studying the paintings of one of the books he had at the dim light of a nearly melted candle. 

"Sorry" she pouted, looking at him with widened eyes "I didn't mean to wake you up" 

"You didn't" he groaned, rubbing his eyes "What are you doing awake? It's the middle of the night" 

He couldn't hear anything outside the tent, only the hushed voices of some guards, and it was still dark. 

"I couldn't sleep" she shrugged. 

"Come back to bed" he nearly ordered, narrowing his eyes at her. Edlynn held back a laugh as she closed the book, leaning in to blow the candle before making her way back to the bed. Ivar watched her as she crawled under the furs and laid back, with her eyes still open. 

"It feels strange to go back and marry someone else"

Ivar frowned in the darkness of the tent. 

"What does that mean?"

"You're the first man I shared the bed with" she muttered "The first man I kissed... The first touching me. I always believed that man would be my husband" 

"I'm also the first man that made you a prisoner" he teased, and Edlynn rolled her eyes with a small smile. 

"I don't think you understand"

"Then tell me"

"I want you to be the last, too" 

Edlynn bit her own tongue after saying it, taking a deep breath as Ivar turned to look at her. She nearly regretted it, but... Why hide it? They probably wouldn't see each other again. She was just telling the truth, like a good christian.

"You don't know what you're saying" 

His answer confused her even more. 

"What?"

"I... We're on different sides, princess" he sighed, and held himself back from reaching out to caress her cheek "I am a heathen, remember?" 

"But you're good to me" she pouted, and Ivar nearly leant in to kiss her "I've seen you talk about your Gods with passion, laugh with your brother, I've seen you bonding with your men and even stroking horses... You're not the monster they talk about, at least not now... You treated me well... As well as you can treat a prisoner, I don't see how you're different from any christian man I know"

Ivar couldn't help but smile and lean his forehead against hers, his fingers tingled, desperate to touch her. He felt a faintly familiar warmth inside his chest. 

"You have to go back home, princess" he insisted "You'll forget about me and will learn to hate me again" 

"I will never hate you" she muttered, and then there was silence. Ivar nearly thought she had fallen asleep again, and kept relaxing against her body, listening to her breathing.

"Ivar" it was the first time he had heard her saying his name, and it sounded so soft with her voice... He looked at her, who had her eyes fixed on his Mjölnir necklace "Kiss me?"

It sounded more like a question than a demand. Edlynn wasn't nearly ready when she felt his strong hand around the side of her neck and his lips pressed against hers. She sighed in delight and kissed him back, grabbing his arm shyly. She had missed his kisses so much... What would she do without them? 

Ivar deepened the kiss, making Edlynn moan quietly and mover her hand to his face, cupping hit softly until her fingers touched his hair. Ivar's hand roamed down her body, settling on her waist and nearly touching her ass. Things were getting out of control, and Ivar didn't know how much he could keep things... Like that. 

Edlynn moved even closer, and now he could feel her breasts against his bare chest. Ivar sighed and smiled against her sweet lips, tightening his grip around her waist. They broke the kiss to breathe, and Edlynn smiled brightly at him before leaning in to kiss him again. 

"We can stop whenever you want" he groaned as her thigh pressed against his cock, making it twitch. 

"I don't want to stop" she replied, frowning, and he nearly laughed. 

Edlynn was serious. She had heard about it more than once, her whole life everyone assured that it was painful and not enjoyable at all for women, but everything Ivar did in that moment felt good... Why wouldn't that feel good then?

"I thought you weren't allowed to do this" he panted as Edlynn's lips landed on his jaw softly. Her kisses were shy, inexperienced, innocent... Completely different from Katia, Freydis or Margrethe, the only women he had ever kissed, but just as effective. 

"I'm not" she giggled "Should I stop?" 

"No" Ivar groaned and tightened his grip on her waist. If they stopped now, he was going to go crazy. He had tried to erase her body from his mind since he saw her in the river that day, and he had failed. 

"I want to do this" she muttered, interrupting their kisses to look at his eyes again "Because I've been told men like it, a lot" she blushed, but the darkness hid it "And I want you to remember me"

"Trust me, princess" Ivar squirmed under her, his body reacting to her closeness "I was going to remember you anyway"

When they kissed again, he tugged at the skirt of her dress, nearly moaning when he finally was able to touch her bare skin. It was soft, warm, and Ivar felt her stiffen when he caressed her leg. Her hand traced the ink lines of his chest as his lips traveled down her neck, Edlynn gasped and let out a shaky breath, biting her tongue. She was supposed to be silent, right? 

"Women can also enjoy this" he said against her skin, his fingers reached her inner thigh and Edlynn's muscles tensed under his touch "Want me to show you?" 

He smirked when she nodded shyly. Edlynn was biting her lip and looking down in curiosity, even if she couldn't see his hand approaching her sex. Ivar wasn't too sure of what he was doing, but kept reaching until he finally touched her, and Edlynn let out a strangled sound and he quickly looked at her. She had closed her eyes and her nails were digging on his skin. Ivar kept caressing her folds until he reached the place that made her jump and moan loudly. 

Edlynn quickly covered her mouth as Ivar smirked with pride and started circling his fingers as his brothers had said more than once. He would have loved to go down and kiss her properly, but didn't want to scare her so soon. 

When Ivar finally pressed two fingers to her entrance, Edlynn opened her eyes, looking both aroused and confused at the same time. 

"Relax" he whispered, reaching to kiss her softly "How does it feel?" 

She was gasping, but managed to reply with a small moan and a frown. 

"Weird" she muttered "But... Good" 

"Good" he nodded, and increased the pace, making Edlynn moan again and grab his arm "I've got you, princess" 

She was shaking between his arms as he started curling his fingers inside her, enjoying the way her walls clenched around them and the incoherent moans she let out. His hand was covered with wetness, and finally Ivar retrieved his hand, making Edlynn whimper in protest. 

But he needed both hands to tear that stupid dress apart. 

She gasped and blushed when he finally was able to throw the pieces of fabric away, to reveal her entire naked body to his eyes. Ivar growled and his lips collapsed against hers again. His hands were everywhere, touching her breasts, her belly and her ass at the same time, and soon his mouth followed them. She nearly felt overwhelmed, where she expected pain and discomfort she only got pleasure, a different kind of pleasure, and she needed more, so much more. 

Ivar finally pushed her to lay down on the bed, and moved to crawl between her legs to keep kissing her. 

"Want me to fuck you, princess?" 

Edlynn widened her eyes, but her legs tightened around his waist and Ivar put his pants down just enough to free his cock. He enjoyed the surprise on her face when she saw it, not used to women being impressed by him. 

"Look at me" he muttered, noticing how she grew nervous "Do you trust me?"

Edlynn allowed herself to get lost into his eyes again, nodding slowly and grabbing his neck as he pressed into her slowly. Ivar needed all of his willpower to keep a slow pace to avoid hurting her too much. She scrunched her nose in pain and closed her eyes. Ivar wasn't an expert, but he knew that, for women, it was painful the first time. Her little shrieks of pain brought back some not very nice memories from his own first time. 

"Hey, princess, open your eyes" he stopped moving, even if he was already shaking from feeling her tight walls around him, when Edlynn obeyed, she had tears in her eyes "Am I hurting you too much?" 

She shook her head and licked her lips. 

"Just a bit"

"I'm sorry" he kissed her temple and let out a shaky breath "I promise it gets better" 

His own eyes were fluttering and he could barely stay still. 

"Keep going" she muttered "I'll be fine"

As he started moving again, Edlynn felt the pain fading slowly. It didn't became pleasurable, like it had when he had used his hand, but it became more... Tolerable. She even felt some pleasure, and it wasn't as bad as she thought, in fact, she enjoyed the way Ivar muttered some strange words in Norse she couldn't understand, and how he moaned and sighed against her skin. It was truly a sight, to see him with his eyes closed in pleasure, enjoying her body in ways she never thought anyone would. 

When Ivar finished, he captured her lips with his again, drowning the sounds they both made as he finally stopped moving. His forehead rested against hers, and their hands were intertwined. None of them said anything at first, enjoying the feeling of being so close, and Ivar let himself hide his face in her neck, sighing. How was he going to let her go now?

___________________________________

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[writer-panda]

Ruin and Rebirth - Chapter 1

Ruin and Rebirth

Chapter 2

Inspired by @jumpingjoy82 on Tumblr. Thank you for the amazing prologue.

I don’t own the characters, only the plot. Miraculous and Justice League belong to their respective creators

--------

"It's okay Marinette. Everything is going to be fine. You’re too young to understand, but it was for the greater good."

To young.

TO YOUNG!

It was all the Justice League's fault. If they kept their incompetent asses out of Paris, none of this would have happened.

Apparently, they just spontaneously decided to go through the Watchtower’s recycling bin, and what they found astonished them. Years upon years worth of pleas for help from Paris.

They decide to finally investigate, and it just so happens that it was during an Akuma Attack, and they threw everything the Parisian heroes were telling them out of the window, wanting to do things their own way.

Superman was one of the ones there.

And they learned just how far the Miracle Cure could go.

He decided to use his super strength and threw a car at the akumatized victim, who moved out of the way at the last minute, so the car sailed right through the Tom & Sabine Bakery, promptly, catching on fire, giving no time for the people inside to get out. No one got out alive.

Ladybug froze for a moment, before fighting with more determination than before, knowing that the Miracle Cure would bring them back.

She was wrong, which brings us back to this point.

"I don't give a damn about you so-called 'greater good' and now you’re telling me, that I'm too young to understand, but am I too young to experience it? Too young to actually see everything and everyone I love torn from me because of these heroes?! Why the hell are they here now? Where were they when this first started? What changed? And now, because of them, my entire family is dead!"

After that everything was hazy, but she knew, she hated superheroes.

They never knew when to stop, and just like Chat Noir, they expected to be praised for whatever happens, no matter if there were casualties or not.

The world would be better off without them.

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

The sun has long since set over Paris. The fires were still burning in some parts of town. For the first time since Ladybug first appeared, the citizens of Paris felt true fear. It was ironic. They didn’t fear the akuma. They feared the heroes that came to their rescue. For the first time in four years, the casualties were piling up. And the akuma was responsible for none.

True, many of them initially asked for it. With each fight, Ladybug and Chat Noir were taking longer. It’s been obvious for some time that they were slowly being worn out. Some media started to criticize the duo, question their skills, age, their right to act in Paris. They weren’t part of the UN Justice League Charter. Their only real authority came from the trust of the citizens themselves. And that trust was lost. The civilian pleas to the Justice League increased in number and frequency. Under public pressure, the mayor had no choice but to issue an official plea for help.

But then, then… the heroes came. 

In retrospection, almost everyone would agree that it was a mistake. Justice League was not used to fighting magical threats. They weren’t practiced in dealing with possessed villains. They didn’t understand. And they treated Ladybug and Chat Noir worse than sidekicks. 

That flying chicken even dared to wrap Chat Noir in a metal bar so he wouldn’t get in the way. 

Ladybug… tried her best. She allowed herself to trust the new heroes. She stopped saving every civilian from the rubble. She focused on the akuma. If heroes didn’t bother with the lives, it must’ve meant they trusted her cure, right?

WRONG

They were like a tank, riding through the city with a singular goal in mind. 

It didn’t help that they deemed the akuma a “world-level threat”. Yeah, right. Stormy Weather was powerful, but the damage could’ve been repaired. 

Or so she thought.

The volcanos, the tsunami, the tornadoes, the earthquakes? Those were fixed. The rubble caused by them was put back in place and those who suffered under them were better than new. 

But not the damage caused by the heroes. 

Not the bakery.

There was no magic in what happened. There was nothing to reverse. Those were human actions. For the first time perhaps, the people could see how much of the damage caused by the fight was the fault of heroes. How many deaths they caused. That is if they admitted, before themselves at least, that it was their fault. 

And yet, the so-called ‘heroes’ dared to lecture her about responsibility. About the sacrifice of few for the lives of many. About the innocence of young. 

She ran away. She managed to dodge them and vanish. Meld with the crowd when there were no cameras in sight and she was sure they couldn’t track her. 

Now, Ladybug stood alone on the top of the Eiffel tower, with her yo-yo communicator in her hand. She sent the message fifteen minutes ago. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but at this point, she no longer cared. There was nothing more for her. 

“He thought this was a trap.” A voice spoke from behind her. Ladybug twisted immediately, taking a guarded stance. She was still avoiding the Justice League after all. Before her stood… someone. She suspected it was an Akuma. The woman had pale skin and wore a black dress, black gloves, and a black veil over her face. 

“It isn’t. I’m alone. The city suffered enough as it is today. I suffered enough.” Ladybug’s voice cracked slightly.

“I see…” The akuma pursed her lips. For a moment, a purple butterfly appeared over her face before the woman nodded. “Fine. Give me your miraculous and I will take you to him.” 

“That isn’t going to work and you know it. You would just leave me stuck here. I’m willing to offer a token of goodwill though.” With that, Ladybug pulled a necklace and dangled it before the akuma. 

“Is that…?” 

“The miraculous of the fox? Yes. No tricks. I want to negotiate. In-person.” She made sure to emphasize the last part. 

The outline of the butterfly appeared in front of the Akuma’s face for a moment before she silently nodded. “I can lead you to him, but not before you reveal your face.”

“Fine.” Ladybug didn’t hesitate. She was past that point long ago. There was no hesitation, no doubt… no regret. Not for her actions anyway. No more.

In the flash of light, instead of Ladybug, Marinette stood before the akuma. 

“You’re…” the woman’s voice was stuck in her throat.

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

Tikki, floating nearby gasped in fear. The Kwami didn’t get a chance to explain before Marinette resumed her transformation. 

“Fine. Let’s go.”

The two leaped from the tower and started to zoom over the city. At first, they remained silent. Neither wanted to speak. It was tense anyway. It was, of course, Marinette who broke the silence first. 

“Your… your look. Have you lost someone today?”

The woman didn’t answer immediately. She appeared to be mulling over the question at first. Or wondering if she should answer.

“A… colleague; coworker. He was… a friend of mine you could say. We’ve been working side-by-side for at least a decade.”

“I see…” Marinette pursed her lips into a thin line. “I’m sorry.” She spoke up after a moment. “I imagine you blame me now?”

“No.” The akuma snapped. “You’re just a child. I put the blame where it belongs. With heroes. And with people who chose to invite them.” 

“Not hawkmoth?” Escaped ladybug’s mouth before she realized it. 

“He… he never wanted this either. He isn’t a villain you believe him to be.” The akuma hesitated for a moment, but Marinette could sense it was her own opinion. She filed it in her brain under interesting. 

-----------

When they arrived at Agreste manor, Marinette was surprised.

When they entered the study, she was baffled.

When they went down the secret elevator, she was angry. 

When she stood before Hawkmoth, she was furious. And it wasn’t because he was her mortal enemy. 

“So that’s why you neglect your only son?!” She screamed at him as soon as he turned to see her. His mouth moved, probably to give some excuse. “I don’t care if you want to rule the world or be a god or whatever. No matter what little sick excuse your brain found to justify your actions. You are not allowed to just ignore Adrien like that! He needs a father. He is a teenager and he needs you!” 

“Madmoiselle Dupain-Cheng.” His voice was cold, but in a different way than she ever heard Gabriel Agreste or Hawkmoth speak. 

“Gabriel Agreste. And I assume you akumatized your Assistant, Nathalie?” She pointed to the woman next to her. 

“Astute observation, Ladybug. You risked a lot coming here to speak with me. I could take your miraculous now, or any other time. You gave me your most precious protection: your secret identity. So… what was that important?”

“I want to know. What is so important to you that you’re willing to go any length to get it?”

“That’s it?” Hawkmoth raised an eyebrow. “That’s all? You’re ready to risk everything over that little piece of knowledge?”

“Yes.” Once more, there was no hesitation. There was no doubt. Her heart had no place for doubts anymore. Her heart was still stuck under three levels worth of rubble. 

“And what, pray tell, would you do if I told you?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“That depends.” She could see he was now intrigued, so she started to explain. “On whether I like the goal or not. And on whether you understand fully the implications. If you pass, you will get my miraculous and I will deliver you Chat Noir’s miraculous too. If you fail, you still get my miraculous. But you will never get the ring. I made sure that if something happens tonight, he will retire. He will leave Paris and toss the ring into the ocean in a concrete box. You would be left to torture the city all you wish until the League found you, but the ring’s power would forever remain out of your reach. You would be left with nothing but a criminal record. And your son would sooner than later be left without both parents. Of course, you could abandon your crusade, but then I would’ve won. I’m not a naive girl without a plan. Not anymore.” She spat the last part angrily, but her gaze was not focused on Hawkmoth, but far in the distance. 

“I… see. Clever. You’re right. This will probably end tonight.” He looked her over top to bottom. It was the first time he stood so close face to face with Ladybug. His nemesis. 

Gabriel wasn’t sure if he was impressed with her, or infuriated. Scratch that, he was sure he was both. She outsmarted him. She was willing to make an ultimate sacrifice for the sake of ending the fight. In that very moment, in her determined expression, he saw a reflection of another headstrong woman he knew. It was as if Emilie’s spirit stood before him. 

“So? How will it be?” she asked impatiently.

“Follow me.” He simply motioned for her and started walking. 

Soon, the group entered a large chamber, lit by several lights. In the center of a platform in the far end stood a glass coffin. Even from the distance, Marinette easily saw there was a woman inside. She was quick to pass Hawkmoth and get there, even as he was trying to grab her.

When the akuma and Gabriel arrived, they watched as Marinette was carefully pacing around the coffin and muttering under her breath. 

“She overused the damaged miraculous.” It wasn’t a question, but Hawkmoth answered anyway.

“Yes. Only the wish can bring her back.”

“You’re one of the biggest idiots in this whole city!” The girl screamed. “She is not dead, you moron. There are literally five different ways listed in the book which, may I remind you, you possess!” She continued to yell at him. “Hell! You could akumatize someone and give him healing power. You know… use the butterfly miraculous like it was meant to be used!” She scolded. “But nooo! You’ve got to be an idiot and immediately go for the most dangerous, imprecise, reckless, chaotic, risky solution there was! I’m sure she would’ve been ashamed.” 

Gabriel was at a loss for words. Was it really that easy? It couldn’t have been. He checked several times. He would’ve known. The akuma left Nathalie, who collapsed onto the ground. Some tear stains were now visible on her face. “I… I was just… I did what she told me. Only the wish can bring back the dead.” He stammered. 

“She. Is. Not. Dead.” Marinette made sure to punctuate each word. “She is in a coma. She is alive you moron. Tikki! Spots off!” The flash of light signaled the end of her transformation. “Be silent, little one.” She said in a caring voice. She couldn’t bring herself to take her anger on Kwami, but she couldn’t doubt now. “Akumatize me. Give me the power to heal her.”

The corruption left the akuma that was floating in the air, only for Hawkmoth to get his hands around the white butterfly and pour a new dose of power into it. It flew the short distance between them and sunk into Marinette’s purse. She smirked as the corrupted energy passed through her, turning her into an akuma. That is until she could see how she looked. 

“I’m not sure how you can call yourself a designer and yet dress me in this!” she complained. Her skin was now deep red, the color of blood, and her clothes turned into a white nurse uniform. Still, she walked to the coffin and easily opened the top. From her purse (now medic’s bag) she pulled a needle and injected the content into Emilie.

When the beautiful woman started to move, letting out an exhausted groan, Marinette sighed in relief. 

“Wha… what’s going on… the last thing I… Gabriel!” She bolted upright and immediately moaned in pain. Her hand instinctively flew to her back. “Gabriel Agreste! Did you keep me in this coffin for a whole week!?” She yelled at her husband. “And who’re those two?” She pointed at Marinette, who was smiling next to her, and Nathalie, still exhausted on the floor. “You were supposed to only reveal this to Adrien if anything happened to me. There was no talk about your assistant and… um, who’re you?” The woman turned to the akuma, who sighed and tore a strap of her bag. The butterfly left the item and Marinette reverted back to her normal form. 

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m… was… used to be Ladybug.” 

“But you’re just a kid. And why was Ladybug active… Gabriel!” She roared and her husband took a step back. 

Marinette was… surprised. She didn’t expect Emilie to be like that. From what Adrien told her, she was supposed to be the kindest, nicest person in the world. Then again, he might’ve been looking at it through tinted glasses.

“Yup.” The bluenette couldn’t stop herself from commenting. “He decided that the best way to wake you up was to get the miraculi of Ladybug and Black Cat.”

“You nincompoop. That plan was only for when I was dead.” She glared heatedly at her husband and Marinette couldn’t help but be a bit smug. “And you couldn’t get the items from a kid? How many other heroes are there?” 

“Only Chat Noir. He’s my age. And I sometimes call in some help from others.” Marinette supplied quickly. She was having entirely too much fun from watching Emilie tear Hawkmoth a new one. 

“Two kids! You couldn’t defeat two kids! I leave for just one second and you start getting your rear kicked by kids!”

“He also neglected Adrien for the last two years.” Marinette decided to have as much fun as she could while it lasted.

“Gabriel Agreste. You’re officially grounded until I sort this mess. Now take your secretary and leave. I will sort the mess with you later,” she ordered. Her husband could only nod and leave as quickly as possible. 

Marinette was now holding her sides laughing. ”That was amazing. Merci Madame Agreste. I didn’t think I would get to laugh tonight… But this was too good.” 

“Oh sunshine, don’t worry. I will get him in line for you. Whoever decided to let kids fight for them was clearly sick or senile.” 

“Master Fu was… he made some mistakes. I… maybe if I wasn’t so young…”

“It’s not your fault. Whatever you blame yourself for. You shouldn’t have been responsible for Paris. Or whatever else my husband did. I think some time on the couch will do him great.” The woman got up and walked over to pull Marinette into a hug. She then led the girl back to the (now half-open) coffin and seated them both on the edge. “Why don’t you tell me what ails you? I’m sure I can help.” 

For a moment, Marinette looked the woman in the eyes. Then, she started talking. She told her everything.

About a class full of idiots who believed every lie and actively fought against her.

About Lila, who manipulated everyone and did everything to turn her life into a personal version of hell. 

About the teachers, who preferred to let her be walked on then do their jobs.

About her partner, the dorky cat who couldn’t take life seriously and at times was immature. She came to like his antics, but he infuriated her as much as he kept her sane. 

About the so-called heroes, who came into the city and ruined her life.

About the destroyed bakery. The four bodies inside.

“It was her birthday. Today my nonna had her sixtieth birthday. We were celebrating when the Akuma happened. Except the Justice League came. Funny thing. The cure can return anyone killed by magic. It can’t return those killed by aliens tossing cars around.” 

“Do you have any other family?” Emilie asked, worried about the girl. She walked through so much pain in her short life. 

“My uncle… but he lives in Shanghai now. Papa was the only child and Maman moved here from Asia… I’m not sure what will happen next.” The girl revealed. 

“Next? Next, you will come live with us. No strings attached. I have no need for your earrings or other miraculous and I can keep my husband in check. I owe you that much.”

“I… you don’t owe me anything, Madame.” The girl quickly protested. “You’re not responsible for what happened. I don’t blame your family. Those were the American heroes who killed my parents. They were the ones that destroyed half the city. They are the ones to blame,” Marinette informed the woman in a solemn tone. 

“And that’s why I want you to stay with me. With us. I can protect you. Teach you. You can have your vengeance on those who wronged you. I can make you a queen. They will regret the day they wronged you.”

“I… I accept.” Marinette bowed her head.

[mitsukui]

cherry explosion | b.w.

Pairing: Bill Weasley x female reader.

Summary:  unexpectedly, Bill finds a way to give you the best New Year’s Eve you have ever had.

Word Count: 1,7k.

Warnings: smut! Oral sex (female receiving). Mentions of alcohol, drinking, and one-night stands ending badly.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: sending all of my love to those who are spending their New Year’s Eve by themselves! Dear @maddi-sun18​, thank you so much for the request, and I hope this can bring you some comfort. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Sometimes, it was so easy to read men. Their actions were so predictable, and they never failed to act exactly the same as the ones who had been there previously.

You wondered if there was some sort of training for young gentlemen on how to pick up girls at hotel bars. There seemed to be four steps for a man to follow in order to get lucky: one – exchange looks with the chosen pretty girl; two – lure the prey by offering her a fizzy and fruity drink; three – make small conversation, and say she is different from any other girl in the room; and, finally, four – get into her panties.

All of that was bullshit, and you would never fall for it.

And, perhaps, that was why you panicked a bit when a painfully attractive man approached you in a different way.

“Hey.” He shot you a small, yet, charming smile. “Do you mind if I sit here? If I listen to Patricia Rakepick talking about her adventures in Japan for one more bit, I might die.”

Both of you were taking part in an international conference on Curse-Breaking. The event had gathered wizards and witches from all around the globe, which caused Gringotts to rent a few areas on a muggle hotel in London for it. Although it was a knotty task for so many people to act as if they had no magical powers rushing through their veins, every participant seemed to be doing well on their own.

His presence there was perfectly reasonable, once he was a Curse-Breaker himself. Yours, however, was a bit questionable. You, as a columnist for the Daily Prophet, had been asked to cover the event, and could not be any less excited about it.

It was New Year’s Eve. All you wanted to do was go home to your family and friends.

While many people were not shy on showing their personal preference for Christmas, you were crazy about New Year’s Eve. The upcoming novel 365 days for you to live as if they were your last, the fancy dresses you always insisted on wearing, the taste of fizzy and fruity drinks lingering in your mouth until January 1st – all of that meant something to you, as brainless as it sounded.

Your peevish ways were soon destroyed by his sudden presence and polite attitudes. After you agreed with his company, it did not take long until you were laughing about the event and the people attending it.

As a matter of fact, Curse-Breakers were rather odd and monotonous people. The man with fiery, long hair seemed to be a clear exception to them, with his exotic fang earring, and his dragonhide boots. He also was to be the only good-looking one in that crowded bar, in that stupidly sophisticated hotel.

He was surprising you second by second. Breaking every single trait of loathing you had piled up for men, due to failed relationships and other women’s reports, he was showing himself as a funny and respectful man.

Between a few drinks, you had talked about his insanely big family, your repetitive daily life, his experiences in Egypt, and how you accidently had Apparated in Colombia once, being left without any knowledge of Spanish.

There was something sweet and intoxicating about him; about the way he asked to hold your hand while you were talking, and about the way he confessed and apologized for being unable to stop staring at your lips and wondering what they felt like.

“They probably taste like cherries now.” You leaned in and whispered, the dizzy sensation caused by your Cherry Bomb drink starting to tingle your insides. In a bold movement, you took your cocktail glass towards him. With your other hand, you touched his chin, and pushed it down a bit, forcing his mouth to part open. Your gaze transformed itself into a flirty one, and you told him to sip your drink so he could get a better grasp on what you tasted like.

It did not take long for you to crash your lips against his after that. You felt comfortable doing exactly what you were doing. You felt like you were in command of your own feelings. There was no stupid game of prey and hunter. There was no lie being told so one would get lucky.

At that moment, there were only two adults, being nice to each other and understanding their desires fully.

Unlike so many other men, he had respected you and, in the midst of slightly drunken kisses and touches, he kept on trying to be certain you were okay and you really wanted that.

Bill was briefly tipsy as well, his tongue tasting like the scotch he had earlier. The mixture between your cherry-like taste and his own made you feel like you were in heaven, although his kisses were growing to be hungry and more desperate.

Half an hour later, your hair spread across the pillow he was temporarily using for sleeping purposes. Your dress had been lifted up until your stomach, and your underwear was now nowhere to be found.

His soft hands roamed around your inner thighs as his tongue lapped your juices. Surprisingly, he was terrific at that, and you suspected you would crave more once he was done.

As he gave short licks to your clit and his tongue ran around your folds, two of his fingers were inserted in you. You arched your back, and reached out for his hair. You allowed your own fingers to tug delicately on his locks, his name leaving your lips religiously. He kept on pumping in and out of you, the pressure on your soft spot increasing each time.

The burning knot in your loins became tighter, and he adored how you clenched your walls around him so strongly. You were a mumbling, breathy mess, but he was entirely mesmerized by the sight, and the intimacy you were sharing.

Almost as if destiny was playing a prank on you, when you hit your first orgasm, fireworks started exploding outside the window of his hotel room. You squeezed your eyes shut, and cried out in the greatest pleasure you had ever felt in your entire life.

Slurping and sinful noises were produced as you came back from your high, still moaning. Your entire body trembled violently, but his big hands soothed your delicious torture.

He looked at you and chuckled quietly, your fluids still hanging on his lips, making them even more kissable than before. You were stunning in his eyes, and he feared not being able to let you go after the morning would come.

“Happy New Year, darling.”

January 1st came as softly and quietly as it possibly could. You dozed off in his arms after you spent a bit watching the fireworks show, and talking as well. The fact he was a grown man, but still could hold a decent conversation for so long, without any visible struggles was amusing.

You woke up to the next morning weak daylight peeking through the curtains and tickling your cheeks. Something inside your chest felt amazing. Flashes of the previous night appeared in your mind, and you could not hold a smile back. Funny enough, the taste of your Cherry Bomb drink still lingered faintly on your tongue.

However, all of your peace of mind vanished in the very instant you realized you had woken up by yourself. Waves of embarrassment and regret crashed in your heart, and you felt ridiculous for falling for all of the sweet nothings that had escaped his lips.

“Yes, that would be all. Yes. Room 716. Thank you very much.”

His enchanting voice shattered your own trance into a million pieces, and his bare footsteps announced he was returning to the same spot where you were at. You pulled the white sheets up and covered your naked torso, still unsure of how you would have to deal with the rising tension of the situation.

He soon captured the image of you being up and a glorious grin painted his lips. “Good morning.” His lower body was covered by a pair of dark jeans, which seemed to embrace his existence perfectly well, despite being different from the visual image he displayed last night. How was it possible for someone to look that good early in the morning? Or was it really early? What time was it? What did happen after the fireworks? With a timid voice, you wished him a good morning, too, but remained silent afterwards. It was difficult for you to ponder your next actions.

“So, the room service guys will be here shortly. I took the freedom to order us some breakfast.” His eyes gleamed with a pure kindness as the words slipped out of his lips. “I hope you fancy some orange juice in the morning.” He was offering you nothing but soft spoken words, and thoughtful actions

What was that?!

“B-Breakfast?” You repeated the key word of the whole conversation in surprise. No one had ever prepared, or even ordered, you breakfast after a night of sex and lust.

“Yeah.” Bill was quick to notice your tone of surprise and, somehow, it was funny to him. A girl like you, whom had shown him nothing but a great personality so far, should be used to being pampered like that. “Did you think for one second that I’d just eat you out like that, and leave you hanging the next morning?”

Honestly? Yes. You did think of that. You feared you would be tricked once more. One more disappointment to be added to your personal archive. One more reason to continue living your life despising men.

His arms were crossed against his chest and he shook his head, a dismissive, short laugh echoing through the room. “I would be mental if I ever did that. In a few hours, you managed to wow me.”

He made his way to the bed, and his body sank down on the mattress, being placed right next to yours. Truth being told, without the alcohol, you felt quite shy being that close to such a handsome man. “And, if you allow me to, I want to continue seeing you. I want to get to know more of you.”

A snuggly heat erupted in you, and it was a novel sensation for you. Perhaps, not all men had those devilish ways in them.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I really feel like kissing you right now. But, given your astonished behaviors, I’m not sure if you’d enjoy that. What do you tell me?”

Perhaps, this new year would not be so terrible.

[moonlit-han]

stray kids’ reactions to their s/o having a bad relationship with their parents ↠ all members

genre: reaction, angst, hurt/comfort word count: 3k warnings: brief descriptions or mentions of verbal/emotional/physical abuse, emotional manipulation, dysfunctional family relationships, alcoholism, swearing request: yes a/n: to the one who requested this: i hope that, if you have a dysfunctional or abusive relationship with your parents, you’re able to leave the environment safely. or, that the behavior changes or stops soon. make sure that you have somewhere safe you can go and at least one other person you can talk to and who can help you. be safe, darling!

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

bang chan

chan would be in utter disbelief that people could act like that

he kept repeating that parents should care about their children

that the yelling and screaming should stop

he would, honestly, have a very low opinion of your parents from the moment he found out everything they’d said and done

he’d not be one to make rash judgements about people,

but there are some lines he holds firm on

you’d long ago learned to go blank when your parents started on their shit

it didn’t matter if it was aimed at you

or at each other

but yelling, blaming, and cussing wasn’t at all what you wanted to experience or be around

chan would make damn sure to be there anytime you had to visit your parents

he didn’t want you to feel alone and small ever again

he had very clear boundaries with your parents

(not that they really respected them, though)

but that didn’t stop him from walking right out of the house, your hand in his, if they tried controlling him

chan had long ago perfected the art of getting you out of your parents’ house at the first sign of trouble

he’d always know when something bad was about to happen between you, too

chan would do everything in his power to make you feel better every time you were feeling shitty because of your parents

he firmly believed that no parent should stifle their child like that

and should never yell or strike you

n e v e r

and don’t get him started on the emotional manipulation

.......

he’d always comfort you after seeing your parents on those rare times courtesy required you to see them

the day you’d told chan all the abuse you’d endured, he simply held you as the both of you cried and cried

and he’d held you all that night, too

really, chan would hold you every single night

and soothe your frantic breathing when the nightmares caught up with you

once, he’d used a phrase that your mother was fond of when she was trying to guilt you into doing things,

you’d gone blank and stopped hearing him

from that day forward, he never used the phrase around you again

chan was adamant that the two of you would not act like your parents in any way

if he was upset, he’d go for a walk and then come back later to talk calmly about whatever had been upsetting

he never took things out on you

no emotional manipulation whatsoever

and the idea of laying hands on someone in anger was abhorrent to him

chan would be absolutely committed to making you feel safe and loved

lee minho

minho was, honestly, pissed

he was pissed that you were dealing with shit from your parents

he was pissed that you didn’t seem to have a chance to rest these days

he was pissed that he felt utterly useless in the face of your unhappiness

he’d noticed that you gazed into space more than usual

that you were sleeping more

all minho wanted to do was comfort you

but you were keeping to yourself

and, worst of all,

not asking for help from him

when you came home from work late with your eyes red-rimmed

minho immediately picked you up in his arms

and took you into the bedroom to cuddle you

over the next hour, he listened as you explained how you’d gone to your parents’ house

and how they hadn’t let you get a word in edgewise

that wasn’t anything new, and, all things considered, they hadn’t treated you too badly

at least no one had decided to slap sense into you

as you’d tried to tell them that you’d just moved in with minho

you wanted them to be happy for you,

but they were scornful and insisted that you were too young at 23

that you were throwing your life away by moving in with your boyfriend

you didn’t care

not really

but something in you needed them to know.

so now that you were back home

and in minho’s arms, you completely fell apart

more than you’d fallen apart on the drive home

you’d only let yourself sniffle as you drove bc you knew you’d crash otherwise

but now you could cry and cry and cry

and let yourself get tugged into the torrent of emotion that flowed through you

minho just rubbed your back and murmured sweet nothings to you

then helped you shower and change into your pajamas

before tucking you under the covers

so you could finally let yourself rest

meanwhile, minho made you some tea and a couple pieces of toast

hoping the honey he’d smeared on top would help you feel better

but really, just needed his arms around you

seo changbin

you’d been at your parents’ for a family gathering

and came back home with a blank look in your eyes

knowing that things were strained between you and your parents,

changbin was ready to support you however you needed

you kind of fell into his arms

and just started crying

your body shook and it took long minutes for you to calm down

changbin wasn’t quite sure what he could do,

besides comfort you and make sure you were safe

he was angry that the situation between you and your parents was worse than he’d known

as you gulped out the story of your mother taking you into the kitchen

and hissing thinly veiled insults, telling you that you were selfish,

changbin heard the blood pound in his ears

if he could make your mother shut up, he would

he wished the two of you could live together

but you were still in college and couldn’t exactly do that easily

so, he hoped that all the time you spent together

and the fact that you were taking so many classes

was enough to get you through still living at home

it was still hell for you, though

you hadn’t realized how bad it was until you started dating changbin

and he’d told you that no, your parents trying to guilt you into not going to college in favor of taking care of them was not normal nor okay

you were glad you had changbin to give you perspective

he was the sweetest man you’d ever met

and you were in awe of how he fought for your right to autonomy

you couldn’t resist feeling overwhelming tenderness for him

all he wanted to do was treat you with as much respect and love as he could

like chan, changbin was incensed that parents would treat their child, or children, like that

and would definitely have a few sharp words to say to your parents

he wouldn’t exactly care about the consequences

there were simply things that were acceptable and some that weren’t

and he cared about you too much to not say something

he would do small, sweet things for you

just to see you smile all the more often

changbin made a point to tell you just how much he loved you

every

single

day

hwang hyunjin

as hyunjin watched you crumple on the doorstep of your house

he knew something was wrong

rage filled his mind when he saw you crying so brokenly

he had no idea what had happened

but he could guess and it made him

utterly furious

how dare they

how dare your father be such a bastard

if hyunjin could, he would spirit you far, far away from home

he wanted you to be safe

hhhhhhhhhhh

………….

he strode forward and sank down on the step next to you

you tried not to rely on hyunjin too much

the last thing you wanted was to be codependent

but with such a crappy home situation

you needed some sort of support

and your boyfriend was the best support you could ask for.

he was understanding

he would fight for you as long as he could

and wanted to make all the hurt you’d experienced go away

he knew that wasn’t necessarily possible

bc emotional wounds are difficult to heal

and need a long time to work through

but he’d be there for you

with his warm arms around you,

things seemed a bit less bleak

but you still couldn’t believe that your father had just threatened to throw you out of the house and to hit you

to punch your lights out

your mother had tried to intervene

but he simply wouldn’t listen

you’d grabbed your phone and just kept inching toward the door

hoping you’d make it before anything bad happened

so now you were there on the stoop, sobbing

you hadn’t even noticed hyunjin until his arms were around you

he’d been on his way to come see you

but now he was your protector

he held you like a piece of pottery that had broken

and he was putting you back together

like you were now kintsugi

a piece of pottery that was broken but now repaired with gold

the unseen cracks in your soul slowly,

so slowly

being filled with hyunjin’s care and love

han jisung

jisung would be the one to sneak you out of the house at midnight

just so he could see you

and so you could have time free of your parents’ control

you’d go to the park near his house

and sit under the trees or feed the ducks

as soon as he got his license

and could drive others around

he’d come pick you up to go to school 

and drive you home,

making damn sure to take all the longest routes he could

you’d told your parents that you had an after-school club,

one that lasted all the way until 5 pm,

all just so you could spend time with jisung

and not be at home

you’d spent many a night with jisung,

crawling back into bed early in the morning after having slept together in the back seat of his car

his parents weren’t too fussed about what he did,

especially since they knew your parents treated you like shit.

in the spring semester of your senior year of high school,

jisung’s parents had invited you to simply live at their house instead of your own

or, at least spend the weekends there

it helped

it more than helped, since you were happier than you’d ever been when you finally brought as many of your things as possible to jisung’s

it was lucky that jisung’s parents were such wonderful advocates of your safety.

they spoke to your parents and convinced them to let you spend more time with jisung

….granted, they neglected to tell your parents that jisung was your boyfriend of three years

but that didn’t matter

a good friend would do much the same for you

so, you practically moved in with jisung for that semester as you applied for colleges

and finally gone a week without shaking

jisung was determined to help you work through the anxiety your parents’ treatment had done to you

anytime loud noises made you start shaking or freeze up,

jisung would just calm you by cuddling you

and distracting you with any and everything he could think of

in time, jisung’s presence and love helped you heal

lee felix

felix wouldn’t understand why anyone would want to be so mean

what was the point?

when you’d started dating…

felix tried to be kind to your parents, he really did!

but when you’d brought him with you to see your parents

and you’d gripped his hand so hard that he was afraid his circulation would be cut off,

he knew something was wrong

felix had whispered, “you okay, babe?”

but you’d only been able to grip his hand harder

felix had just politely made an excuse about needing to go somewhere

and gotten you both out of there

you’d explained everything on the way home,

felix simply holding your hand the whole time

and trying not to cry

you’d gotten used to the shit your parents threw at you

but with felix’s heartfelt response

and his support,

you really did think about how wrong and twisted it was.

the alcoholism in your mother’s family had finally manifested

and turned your mother into....

just a bit of a monster

you were far too used to hiding in your room as she raged downstairs

and then ignoring the reek of alcohol that lingered in the carpet the next morning

it was difficult to get through school sometimes

but felix being there definitely helped

he’d bring you little crystals that he’d left out in fresh water and moonlight

to help clarify your energy and mind

slowly but surely as felix was more solidly your boyfriend

his support was invaluable

he was there for you when you needed him

and understanding when you needed time to yourself

felix read up on how to help people deal with emotional trauma

and made sure to employ strategies he’d read.

he didn’t want to do the wrong thing,

didn’t want to inadvertently hurt you

((not that he’d ever be capable of that, though))

he would give you all the cuddles he could

felix would literally try to cuddle the sad out of you

he was convinced he could do it akhfdsjfhg

when his arms were around you,

you believed his cuddles would make everything better

and honestly, they did

felix’s capacity to love was endless

kim seungmin

seungmin, like minho, would be so damn angry

and i mean,,,,,

a n g r y  p u p

akdfghkjsdfhgakfdghsdkjf

he wouldn’t put up with any shit from your parents

and it didn’t help that they were totally against you having a boyfriend

for every reason they could think of

if either of them said anything shitty to you in his presence

he would be like a simmering cauldron of rage

seungmin never

and i mean never

would dream of yelling around you

or at you

or anything like that

any rage he felt toward your parents wouldn’t be let out anywhere near you

seungmin knew better than to do that

he didn’t want to trigger something in you.

whenever your parents were particularly horrible

seungmin would just hold you

you’d moved as far away as you could from home

and then met seungmin

so when the two of you travelled,,,,,

reluctantly;;;

to your parents’ home for any important holiday or birthday or whatever

((even though you really didn’t want to be anywhere near them))

seungmin became all the more protective of you

when seungmin felt you were becoming overwhelmed by the controlling and manipulative behavior of your parents,

and when you’d tried and tried and tried to set boundaries with them

but they still wouldn’t listen,

he would hold you all night long

so tightly you thought you would burst

but burst with contentment and the feeling of absolute safety

yang jeongin

jeongin’s caring and sweet nature only extended so far

he had no love for your parents

none at all

you’d told him all the ways in which they’d scarred you

emotionally, physically;;;;

and he’d felt like he was about to explode

he’d thrown his arms around you and just repeated “i’m sorry” over and over again

jeongin would try to be mature about the situation

but also wanted to just scream

he’d dutifully write down all your triggers

and make damn sure to never cause you to feel uncomfortable because of him

but jeongin would also be unsure as to how to deal with your parents

while he’d want to confront them,

he also wouldn’t have the experience to deal with bad relationships

not because he’s young or anything

just that his life is full of love

he’d want to protect you

and make sure you’re okay at all times

jeongin wouldn’t give a shit about what your parents thought of him

why should he when they treat you poorly?

he’d probably buy you little sweets

so that if you’re having a bad day,

at least you have something tasty

and he’d try to come up with things to take your mind off your parents

and sometimes that would just be kissing you

sweetly and soundly

so that all you could think about

and feel

and know

is him and all the love he feels for you

[pastelwitchling]

Somebody to You (Chapter 2/4)

               Isobel was not even a little bit what Alex expected her to be. She flipped her hair as he’d imagined she would, and she had the same sneaky smirk that Michael did that made Alex’s heart ache, but as they strolled the museum halls, passing painting after sculpture after painting after ancient pieces of New Mexican history, her remarks were never teasing but genuine.

               She seemed fascinated less with the actual artwork and more with what Alex thought of it himself. As if she hoped to unravel the mystery of him by knowing his opinion on the mundane.

               “What about this one?” she pointed at a piece. “And that one? What about this?”

               “Isobel,” Max panicked, “don’t touch that!”

               Alex hid a smile. Max and Isobel had the relationship he’d always secretly wished he had with his brothers, despite their differences. Despite their father trying to get in between them and pin them against each other.

               He should’ve been sad, should’ve felt left out as he usually did when Michael started flirting with a girl when they were hanging out; like everything was a reminder of how much he didn’t fit, but . . . Max kept looking for his reactions, and Isobel kept her arm hooked around his and glaring at anyone that gave the only gay kid a sideways glance, and both of them felt the need to fill Alex in on any inside joke they had.

               By the end of the museum visit, Alex realized the entire trip had been listening to more of the Evans’ stories than knowing anything about the pieces they’d seen. It was nice, like being with Liz and Kyle, except one of them kept watching him, raising an inconspicuous brow whenever Alex pulled his phone out and the other kept giving him covert glances and smirking, like she knew something Alex didn’t.

               Alex almost wanted to tell Isobel that he knew about Max’s feelings for him, as surprising and out of character as they were, but couldn’t bring himself to confess to them. They’d feel real, like he was humoring Max instead of the truth, which was pining and loving his brother and forever miserable at the strange distance Michael seemed to be taking with him now.

               Too lost in his thoughts about Michael, Alex didn’t even realize that Max was holding a smoothie in his face until his nose hit the cold cup.

               Alex blinked, startled, and Max smiled softly. “Sorry. Pineapple’s your favorite, right?”

               “Yeah,” Alex said slowly, taking the cup. Isobel was holding something aggressively pink and Max’s own was a deep blue. “How’d you know?”

               An unreadable expression crossed Max’s face for a split second, but it was gone so quickly that Alex was sure he must’ve imagined it.

               “I asked Michael,” he said, gaging Alex’s reaction as he took a sip.

               Alex had no idea how much it felt like he was suffocating until he had something cold and delicious trickle into his chest, like a window was open to his heart and he was able to breathe.

               His eyes fluttered and he sighed, content. Max’s smile widened.

               Alex pulled off the straw and looked down. He was used to being watched, but people’s interests usually quickly faded. Max, on the other hand, seemed to stare more and more.

               He cleared his throat, swirling the yellow smoothie. He glanced at Isobel, to make sure was busy harassing the enamored girl behind the desk about her right to have more granola. “Can I ask you something?”

               “Me?” Max blinked. “Yeah!”

               “Why now?” Alex asked. “I mean, we’ve been around each other since middle school.”

               Max seemed to think about this a moment, then, “I guess I just never looked at you that way. I mean, you’re – you’re my brother’s best friend.”

               “But that hasn’t changed.”

               “No,” he agreed. “But . . . Michael told me you play the piano.”

               “So?”

               “So,” Max swallowed, “I didn’t know that. I never even imagined it. You have this whole emo thing going, but . . . it feels . . . like . . . there’s more to you, I guess?” He shut his eyes. “Which I know is so stupid to say because I don’t know you that well, but I – I want to. I want to . . . know the guy that looks like he could rule the Underworld and still plays beautiful music on his piano and who laughs around his friends and who’s always there for the people that need him. You’re just good, Alex.” He turned red and wouldn’t meet Alex’s eyes when he continued, “You’re – you’re cute and you’re good, and . . . I don’t know, that feels like the best kind of story.”

               Alex stared until beads of ice water fell down the side of the cup and over his fingers. He blinked, and looked down. He should’ve been angry that some stranger would claim to know anything about him, but only Michael had ever been able to tell when Alex was angry about his father, and rebelling in everything from his clothes to his makeup to his words. When he found comfort in the dark aesthetic, but everyone else was uneased by it. Alex was scary and unapproachable. Only Michael had ever known of how weighed down he could be by others’ aversion to him, how much mattered to him. And now, it seemed, so did Max.

               Alex swallowed thickly, running through the million things he would say. How’d you know? Don’t read my mind like that. How did you so easily say what Michael never seems to want to? In the end, however, he settled for, “Oh.”

               *

               Watching Alex and Isobel together was . . . not unpleasant. Far from it, actually, Max found himself laughing when Isobel eagerly tugged Alex along every few blocks to gossip about who-knows-what, and Alex scrunched his nose every so often in a way that made Max’s heart flutter. It was either giggle a little breathlessly at his reactions or press his hand over his chest and question what his racing heart meant.

               “What’s so funny?” Alex asked at one point.

               Max blushed at the idea of confessing, but he figured it would help his case, so he murmured, “You’re kind of adorable,” and took a long gulp of his drink, refusing to look at Alex for his reaction.

               They walked along the neighborhood for a long time. Isobel treated them each to a beer, and if Alex was annoyed by her at all, he definitely didn’t show it. In fact, he looked amused every time she spoke, and it made something in Max’s protective heart melt.

               Stop it, he scolded. This is fake, this is all fake. Remember your mission.

               When the time came for them to part ways, Max insisted on walking Alex to his house.

               “Ooh, Max,” Isobel hooked her arm around Alex’s. “Such a gentleman! Ready to go, Alex?”

               But Alex, Max now realized, had faltered.

               “Erm,” he gently removed his arm from Isobel’s. He looked, for the first time that Max had ever seen him, nervous. “Th-That’s okay. I like walking by myself.”

               Max shook his head. “Alex, it’s really late, I can just –”

               “It’s fine, okay?” Alex said with some edge, walking backwards. “Seriously, I don’t need help.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Thanks though. I had a lot of fun. Really. Goodnight.”

               “Goodnight,” Isobel murmured back, her brows pinched, and when she looked to Max, he saw the same confused concern on her face that he felt. He’d thought everything was going fine. He’d thought offering to take Alex home would be a good thing. Had he said something wrong?

               When he and Isobel made it back into the house, they stopped in the corridor that separated their rooms. Isobel leaned her shoulder against her door a moment, and with a gentle smile, she said, “I like him.”

               Max pursed his lips. The same words were on his tongue, but they felt wrong to say. Isobel didn’t know that all of it was an act, that he had only gone out with Alex to help get rid of his feelings for Michael. The softness of her blue eyes forbid Max from confessing to that truth.

               So all he did was hum, mutter a goodnight, and open his door. When he stepped in, he found Michael on the edge of his bed, leaning his elbows on his knees, his hands interlocked tightly.

               Finding Michael in his room at ungodly hours was no surprise, but Max rarely saw him so distressed, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused ahead as if he barely noticed his brother, his thumb carving into the back of his other hand, his foot tapping restlessly on the hardwood floors.

               “Hey,” Max said warily, closing his door.

               “How was the museum?” Michael said in lieu of a greeting.

               Max understood, closing the door. “Good. Great, actually, you don’t have to worry.” He sat down next to Michael with a sigh. “Isobel came with, he had a lot of fun.”

               Michael dropped his head into his hands, his fingers tugging at his curls. “Great,” he said hoarsely.

               Max stared a long moment, and his shoulders slumped. “Michael, you got to stop this. Just talk to Alex –”

               “Stop it, Max,” he ground out.

               Max shook his head. “What happened? I thought Saturdays were for you and Alex, why’d he call me?”

               “I . . .” he growled and stood, kicking a dresser. Max said nothing as his brother paced the length of his room.

               “It’s okay,” he finally said. “He couldn’t hate you, no matter what you –”

               “You didn’t see his face,” he said. “I said – I can’t believe I . . . but it had to be done. I had to . . . he wouldn’t have called you otherwise.”

               Max swallowed. He didn’t know why, but the idea that Alex wouldn’t have called him if Michael hadn’t pushed him to do it upset him more than it should.

               “R-Right,” he said and cleared his throat. “Look, would you just sit down please?”

               Michael sat down with a  huff, his foot still tapping. Max gripped his knee firmly. “Hey,” he said. “I can tell you what he did.”

               Michael nodded, eyes wide and afraid. “O-Okay. Yeah, okay.”

               So Max told him everything, from the moment Alex had come over, to Isobel inviting herself along, to the museum trip, to the smoothies they had, to the beers. When he told Michael about offering to walk Alex home and Alex’s reaction, Michael didn’t look the least bit surprised. If anything, he looked angry all over again.

               “Asshole,” he grumbled, rubbing his face with one hand.

               “Hey,” Max said heatedly, “I tried to –”

               “Not you,” Michael rolled his eyes. “Alex’s dad. Jesse Manes.” He sighed. “If he gets even a feeling that Alex might be dating a guy, he . . .” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

               “It does,” Max said, remembering the fear in Alex’s eyes when he had offered to walk him back. “Michael, he was freaked out –”

               “I know,” Michael cut him off firmly. “Just . . . let it go, Max. There’s nothing you can do. Just don’t let his dad see you together. No matter what. Alex will be the one paying for it.”

               Max swallowed, thinking. He had rarely seen Jesse Manes around town, knowing only that everyone admired him for his military service. Max had never had an opinion other than the fact that Jesse had seemed too cold to approach, but he was nothing like Alex.

               With Alex he saw a warm light. With Jesse, there was none.

               Nonetheless, he just nodded until Michael stopped looking worried about it, and brought in another pillow and blanket for his brother to sleep in his room.

               When he laid there in bed, he pulled his phone out, scrolling mindlessly for fifteen minutes before he convinced himself that pulling Alex’s number was a good idea. He didn’t think he wanted to or should call, but . . .

               Get home okay? he texted, and regretted it the second it sent.

               “Shit,” he whispered, his eyes falling shut. Michael was asleep against the wall, snoring away. Max tapped the edge of the phone when he got no response, then shut it off, leaving it on his nightstand and not at all expecting a response. Then –

               Ting!

               Max swallowed and grabbed his phone.

               Safe and sound, Alex’s message read.

               He bit his lower lip, hesitated, then typed out, Good. Sweet dreams.

               Now that was the one he regretted. Sweet dreams? He groaned, turning his face into the pillow and tossing the phone aside.

               He stared at it from where it sat on the carpet, not expecting an answer, or maybe for Alex to make fun of him or tease him for it. Then the screen lit up and he almost fell off the bed.

               You, too, Max.

               It was stupid. It was so, unbelievably stupid, but a smile tugged at Max’s lips and a chuckle escaped before he even realized it had formed. He could almost hear Alex’s voice, soft and amused, saying his name. What if he thought Max was cute? Or kind? Or unique? What if he was just humoring Max’s ridiculousness? It didn’t matter. He hadn’t laughed at him, he hadn’t ignored him. It made Max smile.

               “You really are good,” he murmured into the night. Michael slept on.

               *

               As soon as he woke up, Michael half-groggily reached for his phone, expecting to find texts and pictures that Alex had taken on their Saturday together. Just before he opened his screen to a single text and picture from Isobel, he remembered that he and Alex hadn’t actually spent any time yesterday with each other.

               Michael deflated entirely, his phone in front of his face as he thoughtlessly clicked on the message. He sat up at once. It was a picture of Isobel taking a selfie with a begrudging Alex on her arm, laughing in that cute way he did when his nose was scrunched and his eyes narrowed.

               He swallowed. This was supposed to be him and Alex yesterday. But what really caught his eyes was Max in the corner. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but at Alex, and the look in his eyes . . . the way he smiled . . .

               Michael had never seen that before. He looked at Max, still sleeping soundly, and thought about this plan to bring his best friend and brother together.

               His thumb tapped the edge of his phone. He wasn’t bringing them together. He was just diverting Alex’s affections for a second. And then Max would go after Liz, the person he actually wanted, and all of this would be over.

               Max doesn’t have a crush on Alex, he told his half-asleep mind, trying to calm himself down as he stepped out of bed. He doesn’t.

               Then for no reason at all, Michael typed out a text to Alex, asking him to meet in the park nearby. Max murmured something in his sleep, and Michael snapped out of his thoughts. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. What was he doing? He was so close now. He couldn’t stop this.

               So he fixed his text. He asked Alex to meet both him and Max. Alex took an entire half hour to answer, and Michael knew he was an early riser, so he tried not to feel panicked that his best friend might be too angry to respond, and when the text came that Alex would need twenty minutes to get there, some relief settled in Michael’s chest and he went to wake Max.

               “Huh?” Max sat up, alert, his eyes still closed. “What – what’s happening?”

               “Get up,” Michael said with a heaviness and unwillingness he forced himself to push aside. “We’re going to see Alex.”

               *

               Alex swung back and forth on the swing, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, waiting for any other word from Michael. He was convincing himself that he was excited to see him, but the memory of his words yesterday had gone from the back of his mind to the forefront, and he couldn’t help but still feel hurt that he’d been dismissed so easily.

               “I’m just trying to have a little fun here. Am I supposed to turn down a hot girl for you?”

               Alex’s fingers gripped the swing’s chains tightly, his eyes burning. Like Alex was some nuisance, a second thought. He’d never imagined those words leaving Michael’s lips. He’d never imagined Michael, of all people, making him feel so . . . unwanted.

               Then, before he could help it, his thoughts wandered to Max. Max, who had hurried him away from the large mansion only because he was terrified his sister would scare him away. Who had been eager to get Alex’s opinion on every painting, sculpture, and relic, and actually listened when he spoke. He’d never been able to speak to strangers so easily, but sometimes it was hard to remember that that was what Max was supposed to be. It was just so easy to talk to him . . . and so easy to forget the bad things around him . . .

               Alex shook himself of those thoughts. What was wrong with him? Max was just a cuddly teddy bear, someone who had helped out once when Michael was too busy. No matter what he said or confessed to, he’d get bored and tired of the chase soon enough. He’d get bored and tired of Alex, just like everyone else did.

               When he looked up, he saw Michael first, and started to stand. Then he saw Max, and his shoulders fell.

               “Are you fucking kidding me?” he murmured, and heaved a sigh as he sat back down. He wasn’t going to just run back into Michael’s arms when his schedule allowed him to remember they were supposed to be best friends. Ruining the only day they might’ve had alone was the final straw.

               “Hey,” Michael smiled wide, and Alex’s heart started to flutter. It made him want to cry. It was so unfair, especially when he knew that Michael used that smile on every pretty girl he saw. Until yesterday, Alex had believed he was different.

               Alex ignored Michael’s greeting and glanced at Max instead, who was sleepily rubbing his eyes. Alex faltered. Had Max gotten out of bed just to see him? The thought made him soften. It wasn’t fair, after all, to blame Max for Michael’s behavior.

               “Hi, Max,” he said, and Max blinked, clearly surprised at being spoken to.

               He put his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Uh – hey, Alex.” Another glance at Michael. “Y-You look nice.”

               Maybe Max was waiting for Michael to approve of this compliment, to tell him how smooth he was being with his crush, but Michael’s eyes were focused on Alex, his expression solemn.

               Max seemed to sense the tension because he exhaled slowly and pointed at the swing next to Alex’s. “That swing taken?”

               Alex couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, no matter how brief, and he shook his head. Max took the swing and swung back and forth as if nobody else was there.

               “Come on, Alex,” Michael murmured, kneeling in front of him. “If this is about yesterday –”

               “If it’s about yesterday?” Alex scoffed humorlessly. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

               Michael looked hurt. “That – that’s not fair.”

               “No?” Alex shook his head. “Saturdays are supposed to be ours, Guerin, and you treated me like some brat you had to put up with!”

               “I didn’t –” Michael’s mouth opened and closed on several sentences, seemingly appalled at the idea. “Alex, I just –”

               In a voice too quiet for Max to hear, Alex said, “You invited Maria. Was that just to hurt me?”

               His eyes widened. “No!”

               “Did I –” Alex faltered. “Did I do something to piss you off, or –”

               “Alex!” Michael couldn’t seem to believe that Alex would go down that road.

               Alex clenched his jaw. “Well, what was I supposed to think? I can’t believe you would even talk to her again after what she did to me! I –” he broke off with a shaky sigh, looking away from Michael and Max to keep them from seeing the tears fill his eyes. “I thought you were my friend.”

               “Don’t say that,” Michael said hoarsely, taking Alex’s hand in his. Alex hated the shivers it sent down his body. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I – I just knew that it hurt losing a friend like that, and I thought that it would make you feel better if – if I could fix it –”

               “The only person in the world I care about losing is you,” Alex argued, and Michael said nothing for a moment. Alex realized his mistake at once, and he looked down, his face heated. “I thought I was losing you yesterday. I thought you’d . . . forgiven her for what she’d done. Like my feelings didn’t matter as much as a pretty girl.”

               A moment of silence. Even the creaking of Max’s swing had stopped. Then Michael tugged on his hand.

               “No one . . .” Michael started and abruptly cut himself off. Alex looked back at him to see his expression was conflicted. Before Alex could ask what was wrong, what had been wrong with him lately, Michael forced a smile to his lips. It was a play at his usual light one without any of the lightness.

               “You know the fair’s going on until next week,” he said. “Why don’t – uh – why don’t we go together? Tomorrow? Just you and me?”

               Alex should’ve been thrilled at the idea, but something . . . something was off. Michael looked like he was more miserable at asking for it, and Max was looking at them strangely solemn.

               Realization dawned. Michael was hesitant to go out with Alex alone when he knew his brother had feelings for him. Alex glanced at Max again. He would’ve preferred to be on his own with Michael, but the idea of going with Max didn’t seem so bad either.

               He internally sighed. “Max,” he turned to him, “why don’t you come with us?”

               Max raised a brow. Michael stopped pretending to smile and his brows furrowed. Alex didn’t understand. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted?

               Then Max smiled, and Alex’s attention was caught. “Yeah? You really want me to come?”

               Warmth bloomed in Alex’s chest, and something like a breath of relief escaped his lips, his first real breath since he’d gotten Michael’s text to meet. Maybe Max would get tired of the chase, but . . . better to get the inevitable over with sooner than later, right?

               “I mean, if you want to,” Alex played at a shrug. Max chuckled and looked down.

               He nodded. “Yeah, yes, I do.”

               Alex realized he and Max were just staring at each other. He blushed and looked back at Michael, expecting to see him overjoyed. But his smile was tighter than ever.

               “Great,” Michael said. “That’s just . . . perfect. Exactly what I was hoping for.”

               *

               “Okay,” Max plopped down on the bed, feeling filled up on lunch and something else he’d been feeling since Alex had invited him along with them to the fair tomorrow. “What’s wrong?”

               “Nothing,” Michael sniffed roughly, replacing his jacket with another one of his own that he’d left in Max’s closet. “It’s all going according to plan, right?”

               “Yeah,” Max nodded, “so why do you look like you’re two seconds away from clocking me?”

               “What?” Michael looked over his shoulder with pursed lips, without actually looking at Max. “I’m not. It’s great, right? He invited you all by himself.”

               Max smiled to himself at the thought. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft to his own ears.

               Michael finally met Max’s eyes for a long while, studying his expression. Then he turned, smiling with narrowed eyes. “Are you . . . you’re not . . .?”

               Max raised a brow, waiting for his brother to elaborate.

               “You’re not . . . starting to actually like Alex, are you?”

               Max’s eyes widened and he scoffed. He started to say that he absolutely wasn’t when he caught himself. He thought of Alex’s kind eyes and his laugh and the hurt in his voice when Michael ignored him. He thought Alex had had enough people dismissing him behind his back.

               “Of course I like him,” he said. “He’s nice, you know? There’s nothing wrong with him.”

               “Yeah,” Michael said with a nod, as if reassuring himself. “Yeah, I mean . . . you like him like you like Kyle, right?”

               Max hesitated. “Michael . . . do you like Alex?”

               “I love Alex,” he said at once. “Just not like that.”

               No, Max silently agreed. Not like that. Michael’s feelings seemed more . . . possessive, though he didn’t want to talk about things he wasn’t sure of. All he knew was that Michael wanted Alex to himself. He didn’t know how to tell him that that wouldn’t work with the plan.

               “I’m sure he just brought me along because he felt bad for me,” Max placated, though the idea made him want to curl up on his bed. “You know, you did bring me along for no reason.”

               “No,” Michael said with that same forced lightness, turning back to his clothes. “No, this is good. Like I said, it’s great! Alex is starting to want you along. The plan is working perfectly.”

               “Yeah,” Max muttered, noticing the way Michael roughly tugged his sleeves down. “Perfectly.”

               *

               “This is a bad idea,” Kyle said as soon as Alex had called to tell him his plans for tonight. “I think you’re forgiving him way too easily.”

               Alex’s phone sat on speaker on his nightstand. He sighed, fixing his hair so that it looked less like he’d walked through a hurricane, but the strands remained windswept and messy and he gave up.

               “He made a mistake,” Alex said for what felt like the millionth time. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

               “Not that kind of mistake!” Kyle argued, his frustration evident. “Alex, he invited Maria!” Alex flinched at the name and was glad his friend couldn’t see him. “That’s like if I invited Jared!”

               “Jared Wilson is a homophobic ass,” Alex argued at once, and calmed the edge in his voice. “It’s not the same thing.”

               “Both of them made life a lot harder for you when they realized you were gay.”

               To that, Alex had no response. He didn’t care. He loved Michael, and being angry with him felt wrong. He didn’t want it.

               He sat on his bed’s edge and played with the buttons on his black cardigan. It was new, something he wanted to wait to wear until he and Michael were alone, because Michael always liked hugging Alex as they walked and clinging to his side, and Alex had wanted Michael to feel soft and warm when he hugged him. It should bother him that he did so much of what he did with the worry of how Michael will take it, even though they’re not dating and could probably never date, but every so often, that traitorous bit of hope would claw its way to the surface and tell him that it could still happen.

               Maybe all it took was Michael knowing how he felt. It didn’t matter. Alex could never do it.

               “I don’t want to lose him,” he said quietly. Kyle didn’t answer. Alex half-wished that he hadn’t heard him, but he doubted it.

               Finally, Kyle sighed and said, “I know.” A pause, then, “What about Max?”

               Alex blinked. “Max?”

               “Yeah,” he said. “Seems like he really likes you.”

               Alex wanted to scoff, but what left his lips instead was, “Yeah?” Kyle chuckled and Alex blushed. “N-Not that I care! I just don’t want to get his hopes up for nothing.”

               He hummed. Alex hated how he could hear the amusement in his voice. “Okay, well,” he said, “don’t count him out just yet.”

               Alex was about to retort when a door suddenly slammed outside his bedroom. He heard the heavy footsteps of hunting boots and swallowed thickly. He tried to keep his light voice as he turned off his speaker and held the phone up, “Hey, I-I’ll see you at school, okay?”

               “Uh –” Kyle was clearly thrown off by the sudden change in conversation. “Sure, but are you –”

               Before he could finish his question, Alex hung up and put his phone aside. Then he caught himself in the mirror. His eyeliner. He was already wearing it.

               “Fuck,” he breathed.

               His heart hammered in his throat as the footsteps stopped outside his room and the door swung open. His father stood there.

               “Did I hear you talking to a boy?” he demanded.

               “N-No,” Alex said at once, cursing his stammering. “I mean, yes, but it was just Kyle.”

               Jesse hummed. Alex’s heart sunk into his stomach when Jesse closed the door behind him and stayed inside.

               “Dad,” he started, “really, I was just –”

               “Come here,” Jesse said with a wave of his fingers. When Alex didn’t move, Jesse fixed his son with his cold blue eyes. “Alex, come here.”

               Alex swallowed and resisted the urge to cower away. If his father hated disobedience, he hated a coward more. So Alex marched up to him swiftly as he was trained to do, his shoulders straight despite his lowered eyes, and the second he was close enough, Jesse grabbed his face in one hand, his grip painful.

               “What is that,” he said coldly, “on your eyes?”

               Alex clenched his jaw, trying not to whimper even as his dad’s hand nearly broke his jaw. Even as he knew what was coming. Not for the first time, as his fingers trembled on his dad’s wrist, he wished Michael could be here to protect him.

               *

               Max was in Alex’s class, and it was rare that a Manes was late, but Alex didn’t show up until halfway through the first lecture. He had a black sweater on with a collar that hid most of his chin and long sleeves that fell past his fingers, despite the fairly warm weather. His arms were stiff at his side, and his eyeliner was smudged a little bit.

               The math teacher said nothing to his most brilliant student about being late, and just gestured at him to take a seat. Max lifted his head off his desk and tried to catch Alex’s eyes, but Alex was staring straight ahead.

               Liz turned around in her seat, her brows furrowed. Max didn’t hear her murmurs, but whatever she said, Alex merely nodded once in response, his smile small. Liz didn’t look reassured, and Max realized he was inching out of his seat.

               “Yes, Mr. Evans?” the teacher said.

               “Uh – nothing, sir,” Max said and sat back down. “Sorry.”

               Some of the other students snickered, but Max didn’t care, because at least Liz was looking at him. He swallowed and pointed at Alex, the silent message clear. Liz nudged Alex’s arm softly and gestured with her chin at Max. Alex looked over.

               Max didn’t know what to do but raise his hand in a little wave. Alex just looked away again, his shoulders scrunched as he almost folded in on himself. He looked out the window and didn’t seem to pay attention to another word of the lecture.

               Max tried to catch Alex in the hall in between classes, to ask him if he was all right, but Alex just shrunk away from him.

               “I’m fine,” he muttered.

               “Alex, wait a second,” Max tried, instinctively reaching for his wrist.

               He’d barely touched him when Alex flinched away. “Don’t do that!” he snapped, making the entire hallway of students stop and turn to stare. Alex looked furious and terrified all at once. “Don’t ever, ever grab me!”

               Max stood frozen with his hand outstretched, stunned, and the hall filled with a heavy, tense silence. Alex didn’t seem to care. He kept glaring at Max a moment longer, his breathing quick like he was on the verge of crying, and he whipped around to where a startled and concerned Liz was ready to guide him away.

               Murmurs broke out over the crowd, and Max heard more than a few people call Alex a number of things, all ranging from “freak” to “psycho,” before they came to check that Max was okay after that outburst. Max could only be offended.

               Alex was clearly suffering with something, didn’t anyone notice or care?

               When Max got to lunch, Isobel was already standing. She looked as she rarely did; her bright smile gone, replaced with a solemn frown. “Hey,” she tugged Max down as soon as she caught sight of him. “What happened with Alex in the hallway? Rosa said he suddenly started screaming at you?”

               Max shook his head. “Something’s wrong with him,” he said.

               Isobel’s frown deepened. “Hey, don’t say that, you don’t know what could be –”

               “No,” Max cut her off, indignant that she could assume he meant the worst. “I mean, something’s wrong with him, like something must’ve happened. He’s usually a lot nicer. And he showed up late. He never shows up late.”

               Isobel rubbed her jaw as she looked over at Alex’s table where both Liz and Kyle were encouraging him to eat something, the concern evident on their faces.

               “I mean, it’s not exactly new, right?” she muttered. “He’s freaked out like this before.”

               Max pursed his lips. Alex had seemed so excited yesterday when Michael had asked him to the fair. What could’ve happened from then till now? Had Michael done something? No, he would’ve warned Max.

               Then he remembered something Michael had told him about Jesse Manes . . .

               His shoulders fell. “Shit.”

               Isobel seemed to realize he’d figured it out, and eagerly asked, “What? What is it?”

               Max hesitated. “You can’t tell anyone. I mean, not even the Ortechos. No one, Isobel.”

               “My lips are sealed,” she quickly promised.

               Max licked his lips. “Well, remember how nervous he was when I offered to walk him home the other night?”

               “Yeah?”

               “Michael told me about his dad,” he said. “Apparently, he really, really doesn’t want his son to be gay.”

               Isobel’s eyes widened with horror. “Alex is scared of his dad?”

               “He’s wearing long sleeves, and he’s sweating through it,” Max said darkly by way of saying what he didn’t want to outright.

               Isobel gasped. “You think he . . . hits him?”

               Max shook his head, not wanting to believe that Alex had that kind of father, but . . . “I’ve never heard Michael so unnerved by someone outside of his foster parents.”

               “Oh my god,” Isobel whispered, her wide, glassy eyes turning to Alex who was sitting slumped in his chair as if allowing himself a few seconds to stop pretending he was fine. “Oh my god,” she started to stand, to go over to him, but Max grabbed her arm and sat her back down.

               “Don’t,” he warned. “Michael didn’t want to tell me, and I doubt Alex wants anyone to know.”

               “He’s beating him!” Isobel whisper-yelled through grit teeth. “We – we have to tell somebody!”

               “Not if Alex doesn’t want us to,” Max argued.

               “Max!”

               “He has brothers,” Max said, and Isobel fell silent. “The last thing Alex needs right now is for the only family he has to hate him because they think he told on their dad. Not if Alex doesn’t want us to.”

               Isobel clenched her jaw, her eyes miserable, and she nodded. It was clearly the last thing she wanted to do.

               “I don’t know how you can bear it,” she breathed, looking over to Alex like she wanted nothing more than to hug and protect him. “He’s so sweet, I don’t know how you can bear it.”

               Isobel, of course, couldn’t see Max’s clenched, trembling fists beneath the table as he watched Alex start to eat despite himself, start to smile like he was so used to the beatings that he’d learned to work past them after a while, wondering the exact same thing.

                 Technically, Michael’s official house was an airstream at the junkyard where old man Sanders had let him stay while he had a part time job after school. Max wished Alex hadn’t known the whole story because then at least, as they went together to the auto shop, Max would have something to say instead of wallowing in the awkward silence between them.

               In fact, awkward wasn’t really the right word. Heavy seemed more appropriate.

               The weather was cooling quickly, making it more bearable for Alex’s sweater. Max half-wondered what Alex would do if he reached down and looked for his fingers underneath the sleeves.

               “I’m sorry,” Alex mumbled, and Max snapped out of his thoughts. Alex had said nothing on the drive over, nodding quietly in thanks when Max had offered to drive him as they were both going together, but his eyes were on the ground now.

               He looked so shy for once that Max was caught off guard.

               “Huh?”

               “For yelling at you,” he went on, even more quiet. “I didn’t mean to . . . I just don’t like . . .”

               “Being grabbed,” Max finished. He stopped, and Alex did the same. “Alex, I would never hurt you, okay? I wouldn’t.”

               Alex wouldn’t look at Max, but Max could see his breathing getting quicker, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter.

               “What did Michael tell you?”

               Max tried to school his features. “Nothing.”

               He was sure Alex would snap at him, would turn right around and cut off his friendship with both him and Michael. Instead, he scoffed wearily. “You’re just as bad a liar as he is.”

               Raising his chin and pretending that it didn’t cause him pain to fix the bag on his shoulder, Alex forged on ahead. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

               Max followed in silence, but only for a minute. “My mom knows someone in the state council, I could talk to her –”

               Alex whipped around, his eyes wide and terrified. “Don’t! You can’t, Max, please, don’t ever –”

               “Okay!” Max took Alex’s hands to calm him. He was rambling, his fingers shaking. “Okay, I – I won’t, Alex, calm down.” When Alex had been reduced to a trembling figure, Max pulled him in gently against him. “I won’t tell, I promise. Just calm down, okay? Please, calm down.”

               Max’s chin was on Alex’s head. He had a hand in Alex’s hair – it was so much softer than he could’ve imagined – his other hand running up and down his back, trying not to scare him again with any sudden movements.

               “It’s just me,” Alex croaked out against Max’s chest. “It’s only me. Because I’m . . .” He shook his head. “He doesn’t hurt them. They – they don’t care about enlisting. They’re happy to do it. I don’t want to ruin their lives, please –”

               “Okay,” Max whispered into Alex’s hair. He smelled like vanilla. “Okay, Alex, it’s okay. I won’t tell, I promise. I promise.”

               They stood there like that for a long time, Max’s fingers raking through Alex’s hair, taking in the way each strand felt against his fingers. He felt the strong muscles of Alex’s back even through his sweater. He couldn’t help it. Everything about Alex was a mystery, and the more he uncovered, the more he wanted to know.

               A breath escaped his lips, and Alex tensed. He stepped back, unwilling to look at Max, his face tinged pink.

               “S-Sorry,” he murmured.

               Max nodded, putting his hands in his back pockets to keep from reaching out for him again. “Me, too. It’s – uh . . . been a long couple of days.”

               Alex sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. Max resisted the urge to ask how bad the pain was underneath the sweater, but if he was being honest, he didn’t think either of them wanted the answer to that question. So he nudged his head towards Michael’s trailer, and waited for Alex to lead the way.

               “What’s your favorite fair treat?” Max asked before they could get to the door. He didn’t know why, but he wanted just a few more seconds before Michael joined them.

               “What?”

               “Fair treat,” he repeated. “You know, they sell a lot of snacks at fairs. They’ll be selling a lot tonight. Which one do you like best?”

               “Uh . . .” Alex thought about it. “Cotton candy? I guess? The, you know, big swirls?”

               “Okay,” Max nodded, grinning. “Then I’ll buy you the biggest swirl they have.”

               Alex’s eyes widened and he turned pinker. It was so cute that Max had to giggle.

               “I have my own money.”

               “So?” Max shrugged. “I want to get you something. I thought about winning you a prize during one of the games, but that feels a little cliché, you know?”

               Alex opened and closed his mouth on several sentences, and Max wondered if Michael had ever offered to buy him anything with the promise that it meant something more.

               Alex looked away with a shake of his head. “You’re silly,” he muttered, and opened the door, climbing inside.

               Max followed, still grinning. They found Michael dressed and looking for the keys to his truck.

               “Hey!” Alex said a little breathlessly. “You ready to go?”

               Michael froze, looking over his shoulder. Max’s smile fell at once. Oh no . . .

               “Crap,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Crap, we said we were going to the fair tonight!”

               Another act, Max thought. “Michael,” he said quietly, a private warning, “today really isn’t the day to –”

               “I don’t get it,” Alex cut him off, his brows furrowed. “If you – if you forgot about the fair tonight, then why’re you in such a hurry to leave?”

               Michael shrugged, glanced at Max, and said, “I have a date.”

               Alex was silent a moment. “You . . . have a date.”

               “Yeah.”

               “But –” Alex shook his head. “The fair was your idea. Why’d you ask me to come with you if you knew you were going to be busy?”

               “I didn’t know when I asked you,” Michael said, and Alex stared. Despite his hidden fingers, Max did not miss the way they curled to fists.

               “So you –” Alex cut himself off abruptly, smiling incredulously, like he couldn’t believe his other half had stooped so low. “You made plans with someone else when you already had plans with me?”

               “Alex,” he huffed, exasperated. “Are you gonna get like this every time I’m meeting someone? A very attractive friend asked me out tonight, I said yes.”

               “But you’re my friend, too,” Alex argued. “When we make promises to each other, we’re supposed to follow through on them, it shouldn’t matter if you have a ton of friends or not.”

               “Well, it’s not my fault you don’t have any friends, Alex.”

               “Michael!” Max stepped forward, but Alex held a hand up. He didn’t look tense or frozen to the spot. He looked like every horrible thought that had ever crossed his mind about his friendship with Michael, every doubt that had ever haunted him, every fear of being unwanted or not good enough, it was all coming true.

               To Alex, Michael didn’t consider him worth anything.

               To Alex, Michael wasn’t protecting their friendship. He was shattering it beyond repair.

               He looked resigned and exhausted. Michael seemed to realize that too late.

               “W-Wait,” he tried, “I didn’t – I didn’t mean –”

               “You’re my friend,” Alex quietly defended. “You’re . . . you’re my . . .” He shook his head, like it didn’t matter anymore. He turned to Max. “D-Do you – uh – do you still want to come with me? To the – the fair?”

               He was clearly terrified, clearly unwilling to go at all if Michael didn’t want to, but wanting to prove that he was unhurt. That he wouldn’t break. Max was in awe of his courage.

               “I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Max said.

               A brief, barely-there smile tugged at Alex’s lips before it was gone. Without another word or glance at Michael, he left. Michael stared at the open door like he wasn’t even in the room, like he was numb and out of body. He’d gone too far this time.

               Max shook his head. “You were so terrified that he was in love with you . . . that you decided to make him hate you instead.”

               “I told you,” Michael said hoarsely, his eyes filling with tears. “He’ll only hate me for a little bit.”

               “And you’re willing to bet on that?” Max tilted his head. He promised Alex he wouldn’t tell anyone else what his father had done to him, but he leaned in anyway and said, “Because if I were you, I would think a little harder instead about why he’s wearing such a long sweater near the end of spring.”

               And with those final words, Max turned and left, catching only the realization in Michael’s eyes before he shut the door behind him. Alex was already in the car, hugging his arms and staring out the window.

               Max got in and shut the door. He exhaled slowly, “Alex –”

               “Just drive,” Alex said hoarsely, like he’d been crying for hours though his eyes were dry. “Please just drive.”

               Max swallowed and turned on the ignition. He didn’t want to be a hero here. He didn’t feel like one. The only reason Michael had hurt Alex this badly at all was so that he could swoop in. But this seemed like too high a cost.

               It didn’t matter in the end. Max did as Alex wanted, and drove.

                 The fairy lights were already strung up when Max and Alex got to the fair, plenty of booths already up with lanterns lighting the way, showering everything in gold. It looked more like a market with a few chances for the kids to win toys, but Max watched as Alex eyed each booth and necklace and dress like they were the only good parts of a bad memory.

               “My mom used to bring us here a lot,” he said, “back when she was around.”

               “When did she die?” Max asked quietly.

               “She didn’t,” Alex said simply. “She left. But this fair . . . it’s my favorite time of the year. Michael knew that.”

               “Alex,” Max shook his head. “I’m sure . . . I’m sure he had a reason for what he did.”

               Alex scoffed, but the press of his lips was both sad and sincere. “I know he did. But god, what could be worth all this?” he gestured at his own face, the exhaustion and misery there. “I can usually read him, but this time I just . . . can’t. I hate not knowing.”

               Max thought about that, and realized he was the same way when it had to do with someone he loved. How was he going to save someone who didn’t want to be saved?

               “Tell me something you do know,” he offered. “You said your brothers are happy to enlist. Does your dad make them all?”

               “No,” Alex sniffled. “No, dad would never make any of us enlist. He pushes it hard, and all the time, but . . . no, if you don’t want to enlist, then just don’t bother coming back home, you know?”

               Max hesitated. “Have you ever . . .?”

               He expected Alex to laugh it off or be indignant about anyone even considering that he would ever enlist, but he only sighed and confessed, “Sometimes.”

               Max stared. “S-Seriously?”

               Alex shook his head, smiling, and for once, he didn’t look sarcastic or amused. He just looked sad. “You don’t know what it’s like there. Or how bad it gets, and – and sometimes I think . . . I couldn’t afford a place of my own. I could escape him though. I could rise in ranks, I could beat him –”

               “Beat him some other way!” Max argued, and a few heads turned to look. Alex didn’t look like he cared, he never did, but Max stepped closer. “You can’t enlist, Alex.”

               Alex looked away. “I said I thought about it, okay? Only when things get really, really bad. It doesn’t mean I’ll do it. I’ll find some other way.”

               He didn’t sound sure, but Max couldn’t have been more sure of his abilities and talent. Alex was the strongest and smartest person he knew, he could easily make it out there. And what if . . . what if he had Max there with him? Supporting him? Helping him? The two of them together in a small apartment in New York or something –

               Max shut his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to think like that. This wasn’t supposed to be long-term. Soon enough, Michael would tell him the truth, and it would all be over. Alex might even hate him for it. He didn’t want to think about that though, so he bought Alex the biggest blue cotton candy swirl, got one for himself, and laughed with Alex about the sizes.

               About an hour in, Alex seemed to really be having a lot of fun. He was laughing at Max’s stupid jokes and tugging on his arm to show him little ceramic toys for sale and even a small aquamarine necklace that glittered in the moonlight with a gold chain so thin it was almost a silk thread.

               When Alex wasn’t looking, Max bought the necklace, and snuck up behind him, letting it rest in the dip of his collarbone.

               “W-What –”

               “For you,” Max said.

               Alex touched the stone, still stunned. “Max, I’m not – I’m uncomfortable accepting so many gifts from people.”

               “I’m not just people though,” Max said simply. “I’m your . . .” he caught himself, “f-friend.”

               Alex looked at him. Max may have been wrong, but he could’ve sworn Alex had seemed disappointed for a moment at the use of the word friend.

               “R-Right,” he murmured. “Still, no more gifts, okay?”

               “No promises,” Max grinned, and his heart jumped when Alex’s face turned that same shade of pink. He was starting to wonder if he could turn it any darker when Alex glanced up and froze.

               “Oh my god,” he breathed.

               “What?” Max followed his gaze, and understood what it was that had terrified him. Making their way towards them was some man in uniform, and beside him was Jesse Manes, hands folded behind his back with his medals shining on his uniform jacket, smiling at booths and laughing with children who ran past.

               That, Max realized, was the most frightening part. Who would believe Alex if he told them their beloved sergeant was a monster?

               Alex stepped back, already trembling. He turned, but the crowd had gathered around them. Even if he stood in the shadows outside the lanterns’ light, he was still visible to anyone passing by, especially if his dad was looking through the booths. He would see Alex here, and just the implication that he was here with Max would get him hurt again.

               Alex hugged himself. “Think, Alex,” he whispered to himself, looking around frantically for a hiding spot. “Think.”

               Max looked back at Jesse. He was getting closer. He couldn’t stand seeing the usually intimidating Alex so frightened now. He had to protect him.

               He took Alex’s hand in his own and pulled him into the shadows, up against a booth. “Is your dad uncomfortable with PDA?”

               “What?”

               “Is he?”

               “Uh – yeah!” Alex shook his head, confused. “He hates it –”

               “Good,” Max breathed, taking Alex’s face in his hands, and before Alex could ask what he was doing, Max closed the distance between them and covered Alex’s mouth with his own. Alex stood frozen against him, but Max wouldn’t pull away, his body blocking Alex’s from sight.

               Half of him was silently urging Alex to play along, if only long enough to get his father’s attention away, but as Alex whimpered softly against his lips, his body melting against Max’s, his hands coming up to Max’s chest, clutching his shirt, Max suddenly forgot all about Jesse Manes.

               He forgot about the fair, he forgot about the booths around him, the crowd of people. He couldn’t think of anything but how soft Alex’s lips were, how perfectly he fit in Max’s arms. Max wanted to taste more of him, so he slipped his tongue in. Alex moaned, pressing unbearably close, and Max could feel him. His toned chest, his flat stomach.

               Max had never wanted to feel another man’s chest until this moment, to claw down his stomach, to feel the muscles of his back. Max tilted his head, bringing his hand around the nape of Alex’s neck and reaching his fingers through his hair, tugging a little on the strands.

               Alex’s hands came up to Max’s face, one hand reaching into his hair. Max wanted to tilt his head, to deepen the kiss, to put his hands up Alex’s shirt and feel his skin. He wondered if it was as sexy as the rest of him – he knew it had to be – and his hand had just fallen to Alex’s hip, tugging at the hem of his sweater, when he heard someone behind him scoff –

               “Ugh, disgusting,” a voice said, and Max snapped out of his thoughts.

               He pulled away, pressing his forehead to Alex’s, the both of them panting heavily. Alex’s eyes were closed, and Max took the opportunity to trace his deeply red cheeks with the tips of his fingers, his rosy, kiss-swollen lips.

               “Wow,” he breathed.

               “Yeah,” Alex swallowed and opened his eyes. They fluttered again as Max traced his thumb across his lips for the second time. “That – that was –”

               “Wow,” Max finished.

               Alex huffed a breathless chuckle. “Are you okay?”

               Max shook his head. “Wow.”

               Alex started to laugh, but seemed to remember they were supposed to be hiding. He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide. Max wanted to hear his laugh, so he looked over his shoulder for any sign of Alex’s dad, but he was so far down the path that by the time Max had tilted his chin up to get a better look, Jesse Manes and his friend were completely gone.

               When he nodded to Alex, Alex’s grin widened and he laughed happily into the night. He jumped into Max’s arms, his own wrapped around Max’s shoulders.

               “Thank you!” Alex said into his shoulder, his voice muffled and filling Max’s chest with butterflies. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He heaved a deep sigh, probably the deepest he’d had in a while. “Thank you, Max.”

               Max wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist, keeping him close and steady against him. In the back of his mind, he could hear Michael’s one, big warning about Alex.

               “Don’t kiss him.”

               But now, in this moment, as he could still feel Alex’s soft, warm lips against his own, as he could hear his moans and smell his sweet scent, he couldn’t remember why.

               He smiled into the crook of Alex’s neck and said, “You’re welcome, Manes.”

It’s finally here! Please please please comment and reblog/share if you enjoyed reading even a little bit, it always makes the world of a difference 💗 I’m going to bed.

[ptersparkers]

the tap of your fingertips

summary: all of jj’s internal thoughts. 

warnings: none, i think and typos, probably. 

notes: i tried to write differently and use inly a stream of consciousness. i hope you like it!

You think he doesn’t look. He does.

He feels every tap of your fingertips, hum of your voice, and breath when you enter the Chateau every morning with a blue water bottle. He thinks you’re beautiful without even trying. Five years of friendship never prepared him for seeing you in another light and it’s no secret that his feelings for you have switched. It’s not a secret to everyone but you.

JJ tries to keep his cool. He really does. It’s subtle movements that he cherishes in his mind when he falls asleep on John B’s couch every night. He replays the time he held your hand to help you into the boat that morning. Your hands were soft, unlike his callous ones. He could grow to like holding your hand.

He sleeps in comfort when you’re his last thought. JJ was never one to believe in lucid dreaming, but when the time is right, he could dream up a fantasy where he wasn’t afraid to proclaim his love for you. It was a distant wish that he wanted to come true. He wished for it when his eyes opened to the moment his eyes closed.

But delicate glances weren’t satisfying him anymore. He wanted to grab your exposed hip and hold you flush against him. Every time you placed the shiny lip gloss that smelled like sweet apples, JJ felt like the universe was torturing him with a sweet slow burn. You always smelled like sweet apples.

You decided to cut your hair short out of sheer boredom and you looked more mature, more refined. You were not what a Pogue looked like with that haircut. JJ liked that. He knew his opinion on your appearance didn’t matter but he wanted to say it anyway. So he did. You smiled and reached for an apple that Kiara had brought that morning. You and those damn apples.

There is a shift in the mood whenever JJ isn’t distracted by the other Pogues. He can feel his heart begin to beat faster when the mood has calmed down. It was almost always sparked by the sun beginning to set. He knew the night sky and the darkness of the calamity would force him to be alone with his own thoughts, unable to escape the impending doom of what he should do about his feelings. But he always put it off until the second he was about to sleep. That‘s his trick if he wanted to dream about you.

He often dreams about a big city where nobody cared about him. He dreams of a small apartment with you laying in your shared bed, the smell of fresh parsley cooking in the pan as he prepared two omelets with cheese and other ingredients laying around in your pantry. He dreams of a fresh pot of black coffee and a ceramic mug you had brought home the week you moved into the space. Your shared space. JJ dreams of waking you up with a tender kiss, feeling your warm breath on his chin as his lips touch the soft skin of your forehead. JJ will never admit it, but he craves the domesticity of relationships in which he was able to feel completely and utterly calm.

JJ likes it best when you wear his shirts after a swimming session. You were almost always too stubborn to wear your own and preferred the bigger size that he sported, not that he would ever complain. It was a cliche, that much he knew. But he never failed to smile when you stole the semi-dirty shirt from the boat when you emerged from the water, letting yourself air dry before slipping on the soft fabric. He was almost positive his entire wardrobe smelled like you.

Just when he thinks he has no real aspirations and dreams to fight for, you are the first to ease his mind about the future. The Outer Banks is a small island compared to the rest of the world. Getting out doesn’t just mean leaving the island physically. It means being mentally prepared to handle whatever life decides to throw at you once you step off of the land you grew to know so well. JJ’s always trying to think positively. He’s always trying to think of what you would say when he felt like the biggest failure on the island.

He didn’t know when he let you consume his mind but he wasn’t going to complain about it. The hot summer morning and cool summer nights were enough to spark imagination from him, one that would make it on his bucket list of things he wanted to accomplish before he left this godforsaken island. One of them was tell you he likes you. But he had time for that. He always tries to reason with himself.

JJ masks his anger and frustration with humor and comedy as a coping mechanism that helps him deal with the trauma he endures. His love for his friends outshines his own aspirations and he’s afraid that one day, he’ll find himself all alone after giving his all to the people he loved to much. He’s afraid of finding himself alone on the island while the Pogues have a grand time on different corners of the same planet. JJ thinks about his capacity for emotion and wonders when his next break down will be. He just hopes you’re not there to witness it.

It’s funny. He always thought about the classist society that exists between the Kooks and the Pogues. JJ is aware that this problem exists way beyond the small North Carolinian island, but he pretends it’s only his problem because it’s easier than dealing with the fact that leaving the island might be the worst decision he could make. If the world outside was like this then he won’t be able to protect himself. Here, at least, he knew how to fight stupid Kooks.

He’s scared that you’re not going to be there with him when he’s ready to leave. He says he is ready, and he’s hot headed with the tendency to act before thinking, but this is the only thing he wants to think through. Leaving the island with no money and nowhere to go means being stuck in square one. It means living as a Pogue in the world beyond the Outer Banks. It would be the same experience on a different playing field. But you always remind him that the opportunities beyond the gates of a small town are greater than his fears.

JJ’s starting to think he began to like you because you gave him hope. Not the kind of hope that resembles an empty promise, but the kind of hope that lifts his spirits and motivates him to get up every morning and seize the day. You are the sun in his dimly lit world and he’s afraid he will lose your sunshine.

The cheesiness of romantic comedies and John B. teasing him all day for being “soft” (whatever that means) is a combination of how JJ feels inside. He no longer feels to strengthen the hard exterior he spent years building when he was with you. JJ let his armor fall. It was always you and him in an isolated room with twin fire signs. He couldn’t hear loud ocean waves or thundering lightening. It was always calm with you.

With you, his slate was clean. He could build himself up without knocking himself down. The building blocks he needed were in your hands and all he had to do was grab them from you. JJ knew you were willing to give that to him. You were willing to share a piece of your soul so that his could be fixed. But he would never want you to break a piece of yourself in order for him to make himself whole.

JJ was pining after you like a little boy on the playground. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, touch you. He wanted you to pull him aside and admit these same feelings but never voiced this out loud. His armor had fallen around you but his walls were sturdy and high in front of everyone else.

He wasn’t sure if you knew. JJ was hyper aware of the times you’d choose to sit next to him or accompany him to fix the keg before parties. He was always aware of your head resting on his shoulder and when you would play with his rings absentmindedly. His hands always felt like they were on fire. But he welcomed that warmth.

And so he stood by the sidelines most afternoons and watched as you and John B. grew closer and closer. There were no romantics feelings involved, just the sheer fact that you two had known each other longer than he had known you. But that didn’t stop the blond boy from overthinking. Before he discovered his romantic feelings for you, every move felt like a provoking gesture. He never paid any mind to John B. pressing a quick kiss to your temple when you left the house. But now he did. Now it was personal. It was irrational. John B. was dating Sarah and you were like a sister to him. He knew that. It still felt weird.

But one evening changed everything. It was just the first of you in the Chateau and you were beyond tired. JJ could see the tiredness in your eyes due to the high-packed day the group had. He asked you to change into comfortable PJ’s before you slept in sweaty clothes and you obliged without a word.

He was used to seeing you without any makeup on and not as put together as when you were. But there was something about you that night.

JJ stepped forward.

You stepped closer.

He put his hands on your hips.

You looked up at him. He could smell the apple scented shampoo from your hair. The one you kept in John B’s bathroom.

There were no fireworks, nor music nor cheerful friends in the window.

There was just you two.

He slowly dipped his head and touched your lips with his, but just barely.

One. Two. Three.

That was the number of seconds it took for you to kiss him back.

You pressed your chest against his.

He dug his fingertips into your hipbone.

You felt his soft lips. He felt yours.

It was slow. Subtle. Sweet.

All JJ could think about was you and your apple flavored lip gloss, and how he wanted to taste it. But by the looks of it, he’d be tasting your apple flavored lip gloss more often.

***

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@princessdolan @ashyramblings-ficrecs @fanficscuziranout  @simonsbluee @caswinchester2000 @jellyfishbeansontoast @karleeluv @briannarto @pogue-h @hyluas @angelic-ashleyaileen @mfmaddyperez @sspidermanss​ @outerbankslove​. 

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[all-my-love-for-harry]

Puppy love.

summary: Harry finally makes his lover’s wishes come true when they adopt a dog together.

word count: 2.2k

based on this request:

“please could you write a cute domestic puppy piece? Maybe just lazy day / taking their pup for a walk 🥺 and maybe y/n is pregnant and the puppy is super protective”

a/n: send me more ideas pls, i’m in a writing mood but idk what to write haha

you can find the rest of my masterlist here.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

Usually when people decide to adopt a dog, they’re always secretly looking for a puppy, thinking it’d be easier to handle rather than an older dog. It was quite sad, to be honest. There were dozens, if not hundreds of animals looking for a home, waiting to be adopted and it wasn’t fair people ignored big dogs with the excuse that they could be aggressive. Well, at least it to Y/N, it wasn’t fair. A dog was something she’s been wanting for a while. And was also the one thing Harry has been unable to give her. Tight schedules, interviews, traveling and touring were a few reasons why they haven’t adopted a pet, leaving it as the only desire Y/N had that Harry was yet to fulfill.

But today was the day. Y/N has finally convinced Harry and they were on their way to the shelter, ready to meet as many dogs as they could with the hope of finding the one. She wasn’t looking for anything in specific, telling herself she’d go with an open mind.

“We can take one, love.” Harry remained her when they went out of the car, intertwining their fingers as they walked inside of the building. He knew the moment they walked in, his girlfriend would be bawling her eyes out because she can’t take every single one of the dogs home with them.

“This is the best day of my life.” She whispered in excitement and Harry chuckled at the way her eyes light up.

“Oh, evening. What can I do for you?” A middle aged woman spoke from behind her desk, offering them a friendly smile while pushing her glasses.

“We’re here to—”

“We’d like to adopt.” Y/N interrupted him, squeezing his hand.

The woman’s smile grew bigger as she stood up from her chair, taking a set of keys from her desk. “Alright. Follow me, please.” She gestured the door that was a couple of steps from where they were standing and started walking, Harry and Y/N just behind her. “Are you looking for anything specific?”

“No. We, uh, we’d like to look around for a bit, if that’s okay.” Harry said.

“That’s fine, you can take your time.” She smiled at them then opened the door, revealing dozens of dogs in every color and every size. The animals started barking and jumping in their places. Y/N’s eyes filled with instant tears when she saw they had them in cages.

She sniffed and Harry looked down at her, concerned. He furrowed his eyebrows then squeezed her hand, trying to soothe her. “Thank you.” He said to the woman before passing through her and entered the room. For a moment he felt slightly overwhelmed for all the barking and noise the dogs were making, but he quickly recovered when Y/N let go of his hand to kneel in front of a Pomeranian. “He’s cute.”

“His name is Barry, oh my god.” She practically squealed as she read the little card that was attached to the dog’s cage. “Harryyy.” Y/N practically dragged the words, too excited to care.

“He arrived last month.” The woman commented from behind.

“Hi, baby. What a good boy”

Harry started to walk around the room, observing a few dogs himself. He was obviously going to let her pick their new pet, being okay with whatever she desired. But look around wouldn’t hurt either. They spent a little time apart, but Harry was still able to hear Y/N’s squeals as well as his name being called at least a hundred times whenever she knelt in front of another dog.

He smiled as small Chihuahua started barking at him. The little fella was so small it could easily fit on Harry’s big hand, and he knew his baby would love it so he called for her.

“You like this one?” She asked, smiling at the dog. “Her name’s Pippa. Oh my god, who picks their names? I’m gonna cry.”

“A few volunteers like to name them. They come a few times a week.”

Y/N nodded at the woman, returning her vision at Harry. “What do you say?”

“I don’t know. You choose, baby.” He smiled sweetly at her.

“Okay. Come see this one, I was just with him when you called me.” She took his hand in hers and pulled from him gently. Harry let her lead him to whatever part of the room she previously was and his eyes winded when he saw a beautiful Siberian husky laying on the floor.

The dog itself looked majestic in his opinion. It was a big ball of fur with a pair of beautiful, crystal blue eyes that were looking directly at him. “His name’s Thor. He’s so adorable, isn’t he?”

“Ah, I see you found Thor. Poor thing’s been looking for a home for quite some time now. A few people come by and see him but never adopt him.”

“Why wouldn’t someone want him?”

“Big dogs aren’t always practical, Sir.”

Harry pouted unconsciously. “I know he’s large, but look at him.” His girlfriend made puppy eyes at him, and he could tell she was trying to hold it together after hearing no one wanted to adopt Thor.

“He’s perfect.” He turned to the woman. “We’d like to take him with us, please.”

“You don’t want to discuss it first?”

“No need. He’s the one.” The green eyed man said confidently.

//

Thor might look like a whole ass wolf, but in reality he was the biggest softie you’d ever met in your life. In the ride back home, Y/N sat in the back of the car with him, and the dog immediately put his head on her lap, its tail never stopped moving as she scratched its ears. Being almost 2ft, Thor occupied pretty much the whole backseat, leaving Y/N squeezed by the window, not that she minded.

“How are we feeling, uh?” Harry asked after a while.

“He’s perfect. Do you think we have everything we need at home for him? I want him to be comfortable.”

Yesterday they had gone on a trip to the store to buy everything they thought they might need to welcome their new pet into their home. Two bowls for water and food, a couple of collars and leashes to take him out, every toy the store had available and a bed.

The only thing they were lacking was dog food, but it was because they didn’t know which dog they’d take from the shelter and didn’t want to buy the wrong one.

“We can make a quick stop at the store for food, it’s on the way home.”

Y/N smiled, sighing happily while leaning down to hug Thor. She got lost on all its fur, nuzzling him gently. She had read stories about how dogs from shelters often tended to act aggressively at first, as they probably had a bad life before, but she was glad Thor wasn’t like that.

//

“Thor, come right here!”

The large dog ran outside the house and towards Y/N, thinking he was being summoned to play in the backyard, but was met with its owner standing next to a massive whole in the ground, where Y/N’s freshly planted daisies were supposed to be.

“Jesus Christ, look at you!” She exclaimed. Thor’s white fur was now brown because of all of the dirt he played with. “Daddy gave you a shower yesterday.”

At hearing the word ‘daddy’, Thor started jumping around while barking happily, starting to run around in look for Harry. Suddenly, Y/N wasn’t mad at him anymore for destroying her garden, instead, her heart melted at how adorable he was.

Yeah, Thor could dig a hole in the ground whenever he wanted and he could send all her flowers flying if that’s what made him happy.

//

Today but six months ago, Harry and Y/N were on their way to the nearest shelter to finally adopt a pet together, not knowing Thor would be entering their life with its chaotic personality and its big heart, changing their life forever. Having a dog together definitely made the couple closer and stronger, as Thor basically became their child.

They celebrated with a day out. The couple took Thor to the dog park, playing with him for hours. The big husky loved to chase Harry around until the both of them were in the ground, the dog lapping his face happily. Sometimes Thor forgets its size and acted like a baby, practically begging Harry to lift him and carry him around.

There were several pictures the next day of them at the park, and the fans were collapsing over the content of Harry with Thor. Y/N thought one specific picture of the three of them walking down the street and back to their car looked so cute that she had to post it with the caption ‘six’, again making everyone die out of love.

//

One of the things Harry did first thing in the morning was go for a run. Now, before he used to go alone, as he always let Y/N sleep a little longer, but now he had an exercise buddy to take in as many runs he wanted. They were usually out for an hour or so, and when they were back, Thor always went straight to his water bowl first then to his bed to take a nap. However, after he hydrated, he went straight upstairs to the master bedroom.

Harry followed him upstairs, seeing with a smile how the dog jumped on the bed and cuddled with Y/N. Thor was a cuddler, it was no secret, so he going with her wasn’t a surprise for Harry. It was only when Harry sat down beside them and Thor started whining that the man grew confused. Thor put its head on top of Y/N’s stomach, looking at Harry.

“What’s wrong, mate?” He asked as he extended his arm to scratch the dog’s head.

Y/N started moving, fluttering her eyes open and smiling softly when her vision caught her favorite boys there. “Morning.”

“Morning, precious.” Harry smiled. “Just came back from out run.”

“Have you showered yet?” He shocks his head. “Then go, I’ll start breakfast.” She leaned towards him to kiss his check before standing up. “How do you feel about banana pancakes?”

“Sounds delicious.”

Y/N walked out of the room with Thor right behind her. Harry shrugged off Thor’s previously odd behavior and went to take a shower. After he was done, he went downstairs and to the kitchen where he found his girlfriend flipping some pancakes with Thor laying closely by her feet.

Thor’s odd behavior continued for a few days, always wanting to be as close as possible to Y/N and nearly panicking whenever she left his sight. He’d lay by her feet or on her lap if she was on the couch, and he’d follow her around like her personal bodyguard if she was on the move.

At first it was quite adorable, but then Thor started whining whenever Harry wanted to come closer, not allowing him to cuddle with Y/N.

In the seventh day, Y/N started to feel sick, she’d wake up and throw up first thing in the morning. They thought it was just something she ate, thinking it would go away in a few days. But then she started to throw up more and more and Harry started panicking, so they went to the doctor.

“We’ll run a few tests to find out what’s wrong, including a pregnancy one.”

“P-pregnancy?” Harry shuttered.

“I’m not pregnant, doctor.” Y/N assured.

“We might as well be sure.”

The results arrived in just half an hour, but it surely felt like an eternity. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the pregnancy test. He’d be lying if he said a part of him was excited to know whether he has created a new life with the love of his life or not, but he didn’t want to get his hopes too high. And the other part of him was terrified of the possibility of Y/N being pregnant.

When they were finally back with the doctor, Harry held Y/N’s hand and squeezed it tightly. She looked at him and he gave her a smile, assuring her that no matter what the results said, they’d be fine.

“Congratulations, you’ll be parents.” The doctor lifted her head from the papers, offering the both of them a gentle smile. “You’re three months pregnant, what explains the morning sickness you’ve been experiencing.”

Harry sat there in shock, the fact that he was actually going to be a father finally hitting him. “I’m gonna be a dad.” He whispered. His head snapped up, his eyes looking for Y/N’s. “You’re gonna be a mum.”

Y/n choked a sob, standing from her place at the same time as Harry and hugged him tightly. He pulled her closer to his chest as he kissed the top of her head, a few tears rolling down from his eyes.

“I guess I’m having your baby, eh?” Now it was Harry’s turn to choke a sob, barely able to speak due all the emotions he was feeling right now.

//

“Can you believe Thor knew first?” Harry said when they were finally inside of their car again, ready to drive back home.

“What do you mean?”

“Dogs can tell if a woman is pregnant.” He said. “And that would explain why he behaved like he did.”

“Like what?”

“He panicked whenever you weren’t in the room, always followed you around. He even waited for you outside of the bathroom!”

“He just loves me more than he loves you.” She joked.

“Yeah, but he will love our baby even more.”

Our baby.

Didn’t sound that bad, didn’t it?

[tteokggukk]

all an act → ksj

✳ pairing: acting major! seokjin x acting major reader, basically they’re both acting majors

✳ genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, college au

✳ warnings: swearing, copulation is implied (not written), just PG-13

✳ words: 10.6k

✳ a/n: I’M SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE i’ve had this idea on my mind longer than my published stuff so far. i also didn’t think this would even reach 10k+ words, i initially thought it’d only be ~5k but my hand kept slipping and slipping and 10k happened. anyways, enjoy reading! and again, if you’d like to send some comments (esp on things i can do to improve), don’t hesitate to comment or send an ask!

"How many years is it gonna take for you to finish writing a sentence?" You sighed and began tapping on your foot. You were sitting in one of tables outside to finish a short paper about a film your professor tasked you to watch with a partner. Normally you were fine working with anyone, and even if it was individual work you'd have no problem getting it done in no time. However, today was different. You almost wanted to tear your hair out and scream for as long as you could until this was all over.

You didn't expect Kim Seokjin to be your partner this time.

"When you stop acting like a priss, that's when," Seokjin rolled his eyes as he typed out the remaining sentences of your "collaborative" effort. You wouldn't even call it collaborative unless it meant having to argue about several different points of a story just to piece a whole paper together. You rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue, muttering a "Looks who's talking," underneath your breath.

For the whole year you survived not being partners with him and you thought you'd be able to get away with it, until your professor stopped allowing people to choose partners and started assigning them instead. You desperately hoped this was the last time you'd ever be partnered with someone you loathed.

You were both acting majors and were well known as two of the most top performing students in your batch, but you never got along well. When you respectfully asked your professor why he paired you with him in hopes of trying to get out of it, he started talking to you about both of your “potentials” and “how much better it'd be for the two of you to work together”.

"Here. I'm done," he pushes your laptop away from him and towards you, "Can I leave?"

"We still have to print and pass this," you told him through gritted teeth.

"And you need me for that? Wow, I'm almost flattered," He snickers before standing up and grabbing his bag.

"I'm so glad you aren't."

Slamming your laptop shut, you trudged ahead to the library to have the paper printed, moving slightly faster to avoid having to talk to (or argue with) Seokjin. You didn't have the energy to keep bickering, you were just glad this paper was over and you'd never have to talk to each other again.

You stood next to Seokjin, making sure there was distance between you two as your professor, Mr. Brown, began silently reading your work.

So far so good, he was nodding and smiling as he mouthed the words on the paper, making only a few marks on every other page. 

All you needed to do was wait for him to announce your grade and you could both go your separate ways. Why couldn't time move any faster? You began counting the seconds to save yourself from boredom, but also to keep your eyes away from your partner.

"Wow, this is…" Mr. Brown spoke, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" You and Seokjin both asked in unison before glaring at each other for a millisecond.

"Unexpected," Mr. Brown says as he places your paper in front of you.

"Sir?" Your right eye narrows as you call in confusion. What does he mean?

"Unexpected. I thought for sure bringing you two together would produce a well-thought paper, but… this is terrible."

Terrible.

You felt your heart sink. No one has ever called your paper terrible. In fact, most of your papers almost always had good comments and praises and perfect marks, how could this have happened? You even made sure to check everything thrice before finalizing everything.

"What?" Seokjin exclaimed, "What do you mean our paper's terrible?"

"It lacks unity. Your opposing ideas are all over the place, I can tell you tried to link them, but you failed at it," Mr. Brown sighs in disappointment before taking his glasses off to breathe deeply, "You're aware of how many points this paper is, yes?"

"Yes," you and Seokjin spoke nervously.

"And you know only one submission is allowed, yes?"

"Yes," you both answered.

"You know where I'm getting at, right?"

You swallow nervously before speaking up, "Sir, can't we revise it and pass it again? We'll just tweak some of the—"

"I'm afraid you can't. You know the rules very well, Ms. Y/L/N," Mr. Brown shook his head. You sighed, feeling defeated.

"You both clearly have problems working together. Teamwork is part of the criteria, you know," Mr. Brown stood up to sit on the edge of his desk, "You're both our top performing students. I can understand how much your grades mean to you, but did you not consider how your differences could affect your output?"

"Is there any way we can get some extra credit to make up for this paper?" Seokjin asks. You felt a little relieved at his question as you were already feeling too nervous to ask any more.

Mr. Brown looked around in thought, "Well, there is a way I suppose. Some of the upperclassmen under my class are creating a short film and they need extra actors for their project. If you'd like to help them out, I'll give your paper full marks and add some extra points to your other outputs. It might be too taxing for you though."

"No! It's alright, could you give us their names so we can talk to them?" You asked. Mr. Brown nodded and began writing something down on a piece of paper before handing it over to you.

"I wish you two the best of luck. And please try to get along." Mr. Brown says before you and Seokjin excuse yourselves out of the room.

"What do you know? Even our papers show we don’t work together well," Seokjin mutters as you two rushed to find those seniors you needed to work with, "I could've passed if I just had the right partner."

"You're blaming me?" You couldn't believe it, the audacity, "I would've gotten perfect marks even if I wrote that paper with my eyes closed."

Seokjin laughs, "Yeah, okay. You might not have even gotten any marks if you weren't with me."

"You know, my expectations for you were low, but holy fuck," You snickered, "This is the first time I've ever gotten a comment like that on an output. I don't think you being my partner this time around was a coincidence.”

"Oh yeah? If you had just agreed to add my opinion on—"

Just as Seokjin began leaning in to you to defend his ideas, you turned around to face him, abruptly stopping his speech, "Could you just shut up and walk while we look for the guy on this paper?" Your blood was boiling at the sound of his voice, all you wanted to do was get this over with.

The two of you continued searching rooms with Seokjin following behind until you reached the room with the door number your professor had written down. You stared at the piece of paper and looked at the door, hesitating to knock.

"Give me that," Seokjin took the paper from your hand and quickly knocked before letting himself in as you followed.

"Hello, is Oliver Beck here?" Seokjin asked and everyone around stared, making you feel a bit uncomfortable. A guy with long hair wearing a plaid shirt came forward, "That's me, what is it?"

"Hi, we're students from Mr. Brown's class and we were wondering if we could participate as extras in your short film? He says we need the extra credit," Seokjin explained.

Oliver looks confused. "Extras? We've already got that covered," he says, "We need main actors."

"Main actors?" You asked.

"Yeah, no one has agreed to do it yet, but we've already asked some to—"

"We'll do it," Seokjin cuts him off, causing Oliver to raise his brows in surprise.

"You will?"

"Yeah, we really need the credit."

"Are you sure? You haven't seen the script yet," Oliver asks hesitantly.

"Positive. We'll do our best," You spoke.

"Er— alright then, follow me," Oliver motioned for the two of you to walk along. You and Seokjin couldn't help but send each other mutual confused expressions.

Neither of you knew what you were getting into. How bad could the film be that no one has agreed to do it?

Oliver pulls out two copies of what seemed to be scripts from his bag and hands them to the two of you, "Here. It's pretty short, so it shouldn't take long to memorize."

The script wasn't as thick as you thought it would be, so you decide to flip through pages to see what some of the scenes were like. Seokjin just stares at the title on the front page.

"I don't mean to pressure you but we start filming next month, so I'd start practicing if I were you," Oliver announces, "Anyways, I'd better get back to my friends. Send me your numbers so I can contact you guys for details."

After exchanging names and numbers with Oliver and a few of his group mates for the project, you and Seokjin finally left the room.

"Why do you think no one agreed to film with them?" Seokjin asks. You didn't exactly think you were both on friendly-conversation-terms, but the same question did linger in your mind.

"I don't know. Why? Are you backing out?" You asked mockingly.

"If there's anyone between us who'd back out from this, I'm pretty damn sure it wouldn't be me," He scoffs.

"You know, if we had just done that paper properly we wouldn't be stuck here doing some film that I don't even know," You sighed angrily.

"God, get over it. You should be glad you're even part of this extra credit thing. Technically I was the one who asked about it," Seokjin grunts.

"I am so close to taking this script and stabbing you with it," You glared at him.

Before you two parted ways, you both agreed to meet tomorrow at an empty rehearsal room to practice some of the scenes. You didn't know how this was even going to work, you blamed the whole thing on the paper even though you knew it was both your faults. How would starring in a film make up for everything if your paper couldn't even save you both?

You hung around in your dorm for the rest of the day to read through the script. A few hours later, Courtney, your best friend and roommate, arrived.

"I got your texts," she said a little too loudly as she entered, "Seriously? You're filming with Kim Seokjin?"

You let out a groan as you fell back on your bed with the script covering your face, "Ugh, I know! Can you believe my luck?"

"You know if any other girl had the chance, they'd thank all the gods right about now," Courtney laughed as she lied down on your bed, "I'm sorry about your paper though."

She was right. Seokjin was incredibly liked by everyone. He was the kind of person that exuded this welcoming aura, like you could easily be friends with him. Even people from other classes knew him. He always had that bright smile when it came to others. It was just different with you.

"It's fine. I didn't think our hate for each other would be reflected on our paper," you sighed, "And now I have to meet him tomorrow just to practice, ugh."

"You're meeting tomorrow?" Courtney raises a brow. You nod disappointingly.

"Well," Courtney sighed in annoyance, "Make sure he even gets there. If he stands you up again, I won't hesitate to beat the shit out of—"

You laughed, "Please, Court. He'll have to come this time. He's the one who got us into this."

"Yeah he'd better. Listen, call me immediately if he doesn't, okay? Wouldn’t hurt to give him a piece of my mind."

Ranting about Seokjin left you feeling ravenous, and it didn’t take long before you two decided to leave the room to grab some food from the cafeteria and talk about your day. When you both got back, you headed for bed and began reading the script, mouthing some of the lines to familiarize yourself with everything. 

Not even a few pages later and you felt your mind wandering off as your eyes rolled back, feeling yourself drift away with the script falling off your bed as you fell into a deep sleep.

Seokjin was a few minutes late in the rehearsal room but you decided to let it slide since you two had to be on good terms to make this practice work. Based on what you've read so far; the story was about friends who've had feelings for each other for so long but couldn't do anything about it in fear of ruining their friendship. Generic, you thought.

"I'd say sorry for being late, but it's only you waiting," Seokjin says as he enters the room and drops his bag on the floor.

"I'd say no problem, I didn't wait long, but you're an imbecile that probably made me wait on purpose," You faked a smile before quickly turning back to a stern expression, "Did you read the script?"

"Just halfway," He says and pulls his copy of the script out from his bag, "Did you?"

"Same," you muttered, "So, let's start with the first scene?"

For the first thirty minutes you two had agreed to sit down and rehearse your lines. You were both good at reciting the dialogues, it almost seemed like you were professionals. You thought there wouldn't be any problems when it came to actually acting out the scenes until you both finally had to practice with delivery, you both sucked.

"What is so hard about not being stiff?" Seokjin exclaims.

"I am not stiff! You're just not moving that close to me!" You retorted, crossing your arms in defense.

"You know what? We've been going at this scene for an hour now and nothing looks right," Seokjin sighs.

"Of course nothing looks right, it's our first time practicing together. I've literally never done a scene with you before," You sat down on the floor and ran your fingers through your hair.

You'd think two top performing students would have a piece of cake acting out simple scenes with perfect chemistry, but you and Seokjin were far from it.

"We've never been partners before?" He asks, sitting down in front of you.

"No, never. And I honestly thought it'd stay that way," You grumbled.

"God, you talk as if this was my fault," Seokjin glares at you, "If we were the last people on Earth and had to do that paper again, I hope you know I'd rather choose a monkey than work with you."

"Why? Because great minds think alike?" You fought back.

"It's a well-known fact those animals have bigger brains than you do."

I swear to God, hold me back or I am gonna hurt him so bad.

"Why don't we just practice reading the lines and act them out tomorrow?" You suggested politely with a smile that was so painfully forced. 

And so that was what you did for the next two hours, only rehearsing the first half of the film. That was what you did for the next two days, but the problem was though you two did sound great in dialogue, your act wasn't close to it.

Jin had a secret.

He's been keeping it for months now, and only his best friend, Yoongi, knew about it.

He didn't actually know why you two hated each other so much. He had no idea why you hated him at all. He just started going along with it until it became a habitual thing, but as to why this all started he had absolutely no clue.

"She's nice to me," Yoongi spoke as he shoved another potato in his mouth.

"She's nice to everyone," Jin added.

"Everyone but you," Yoongi laughed.

"I think the reason why you two can't get your scenes right is because you act like you hate each other," Yoongi told Jin as they ate their lunch, "Why don't you just ask her why she hates you so much?"

"I can't, she thinks I have a reason. It wouldn't make sense if I asked her," Jin shrugged, "It's kinda fun though, bickering with her. I just don't understand why."

Yoongi raised a brow, "Fun? Hold on, you're not…"

"It's not whatever you're thinking," Jin rolled his eyes, earning him a smirk from Yoongi.

"Right," Yoongi spoke, "What are you gonna do about your practice? Hasn't it been like, two weeks?"

"Yeah, and we're nowhere near done," Jin sighs, "Speaking of which, I have to go meet her now."

"Sounds like a date," Yoongi teased.

"I will hit you with this script," Jin warns him before taking his bag and muttering goodbye.

He hurriedly walked to the rehearsal room and checked his watch, he was late again today. Jin was sure he'd earn another lecture from you and how he lacked punctuality and that they'd never get anything done if he never arrived on time. Today he brought ear plugs, and before walking in he made sure to put them on before entering the room.

There was no noise.

It took him a minute to find you lying down on the floor on the side of the room, using your bag as a pillow. You were sleeping soundly as you clutched your script in your hand with earphones plugged in.

Jin closed the door behind him and quietly sat down in front of you. He watched as you slept peacefully, hair strands falling on your face.

You're pretty, Jin thought. You always have been attractive to him, and kind to others-- but it was always a different case when it came your relationship with him, or lack thereof. Without thinking, he found himself reaching out for your face, tucking the strands of hair behind your ear.

You opened your eyes and saw Jin sitting in front of you, his hand close to your face. His eyes widen and he quickly moves back, his ears turning red.

"What are you doing?" You asked, pulling your earphones out of your ears.

What was he doing? You hated each other. Was he not thinking straight for a moment just because you looked so peaceful and harmless while you slept? Was he forgetting how much you hated his guts?

"There was a bug," he lied and quickly stood up, shyly turning away from you.

That was odd. I could've sworn…

"Okaaay," You spoke awkwardly and stood up, rubbing your eyes to get rid of any eye crusts that may have formed while you were sleeping, "Whatever, let's practice."

You had to admit though, your practices were getting better. There was less banter and more productive work and you couldn't help but feel like a huge weight off your chest has just been lifted. Oddly enough, there were less insults coming from both sides and subtler, masked compliments.

"You know for a monkey, you're doing pretty well," Seokjin teased, causing you to roll your eyes but smile anyway.

"You can just say I'm talented, don't be shy," you joked, making him chuckle a bit.

It was awkward though, being "nice" to each other. With Seokjin, you were more used to insults and arguments rather than trying hard at compliments. At the same time, it felt kind of nice to know that it was possible to have more to your "relationship" rather than constantly fighting.

By the time you two had finished practicing, it was already dark out. You both sat on the floor for a good ten minutes before standing up and deciding to leave.

"Hey, Monkey, it's dark outside," Seokjin spoke, breaking the silence between you two.

"Yeah, I know," you replied. You were already used to going home alone in the dark, so you figured him trying to scare you wouldn't make any difference.

"How far is your dorm?" He asks.

"It's a twenty-minute walk, I guess," You tried not to sound surprised at his question, "Why?"

"Come on," he says and opens the door, "I'll walk you home." Seokjin turned all the lights off now, which thankfully hid his ears that were now red.

Your eyebrows were raised in shock as you stood there wondering if you heard him right.

"What are you doing standing there? Hurry up!" He called.

You stared in disbelief as you walked towards him, silently analyzing what food he must’ve had before practice that messed with his brain and made him nice all of a sudden. He closes the door behind you two and you both start walking.

It was silent. And awkward. And you were confused. Why was he suddenly being so nice? It felt so… weird.

"Are you sick?" You asked.

"No?" He looks at you, confused, "Why?"

"You're being nice," You said, a little too quietly.

"If something happened to you people would blame me because I was with you last," he explained quickly, "Plus, there are many animal abusers on the loose—"

"Oh, shut up, forget it," you shoved him lightly, holding back a smile as Seokjin laughed.

And then there was silence again.

"How do you wanna go about the last scene?" Seokjin asks out of nowhere.

The last scene? Oh, that scene.

It was your turn to turn pink now as you avoided trying to sound like the question bothered you. You tried your best to sound nonchalant as you answered.

"I don't know, just go with the flow, I guess…" you told him.

"When do you wanna practice?" He asks, sounding casual.

"Whenever you're ready," You muttered. Am I even ready?

When you finally got to your dorm, you contemplated whether or not you would say bye to him. While silently debating with yourself on what you should do as you stepped on the stairs leading to your building door, Seokjin beat you to whatever decision you might've made.

"I'll see you Monday, Monkey," Seokjin said, stopping in front of the first step.

"Thanks for walking with me, see ya," you said in a voice that sounded more monotone than you wanted it to be. Neither of you said anything else so you went ahead and walked in. Seokjin watched and finally left when you were no longer in sight.

The way he was acting today bothered you. Not in a bad way, you just didn't understand why he was being that way. Had something changed?

Once you entered your dorm room, you tried to fix your face into a normal one as you pushed your thoughts aside. Courtney immediately rushed over to you to ask you questions.

"You don't usually come home after dark, what took you so long?" She asked.

"I practiced with Seokjin, remember?" You spoke, carefully avoiding eye contact as you placed your bag on your chair.

"For this long?" She asks suspiciously.

"Yeah, we finally got some scenes right," you turned to face her as you plopped yourself onto your bed.

"About time," she sat on her chair, "Hey, will you go out with me tomorrow?"

"Ooooh, are you asking me out on a date?" You teased as Courtney rolled her eyes with a smile. 

"No, at least not with me," she grins.

"Huh?" You asked, squinting one eye.

"Micara set me up on a blind date with someone on campus. Apparently they're bringing a friend so now it's a double blind date," she sighs.

"You agreed on a blind date? That's so sketchy," you commented, earning yourself a look from Courtney.

"Yeah, yeah, it's sketchy. I just did it for fun, Micara says he's really cute. I don't know about the friend, though."

"Cute is subjective."

"You have to come with me," Courtney pleads with puppy dog eyes.

"Courtney! No, ask someone else," you tried to shake your hand away from Courtney who was now holding onto your arm.

"It's gonna be so weird if I hang out with the two of them!"

"Well, that's what you get for saying yes to blind dates."

"Please! What if they actually are weirdos who want to take advantage of me?" She pouts. That did make you think twice. A smile begins to creep up on Courntey's lips, knowing you were about to say yes.

"You're lucky I love you," You sighed.

"Yes! Thank you so much, y/n," She pulls you in for a tight hug, "You won't regret coming with me."

The next time you saw Seokjin wasn't on Monday.

You saw him the next day. On the double date. In a movie theater. 

Your heart nearly stopped.

At first you thought Courtney's date came alone and you almost made an excuse to leave, until Seokjin came carrying two bags of popcorn with him, almost dropping them when he saw you standing there.

"Monkey? What are you doing here?" Seokjin asked in shock.

"Do you two know each other?" Josh, Courtney's date, asks while taking one bag of popcorn.

"They hate each other," Courtney whispers to her date.

"You’re the friend?" You asked out loud.

"Before you two come for each other's necks, why don't we fall in line for the movie?" Courtney anxiously smiles as she and Josh begin to walk away to line up, leaving you and Seokjin staring at each other. The whole situation reminded you of that Spiderman meme.

Seokjin sighs and walks closer to you, "Guess I'm gonna have to stay with you."

"No one's forcing you to," you told him.

"Do you want me to leave then?" He challenges.

"I never asked you to come!" Your voice slightly raises in defense.

"Great, then!"

"Fine!"

But neither of you moved from where you stood. You just stared at each other, arms folded while Seokjin clutched onto the bag of popcorn. Finally, you let out a deep breath.

"I can't leave my friend," You spoke.

"So can I," He says, "Let's just fall in line."

Courtney and Josh were so far ahead now you could barely see their faces from where you were. Seokjin stood behind you in the line. Neither of you said anything.

There was a group of guys standing in front of you talking loudly to themselves. Suddenly you notice their voices turn down and they began whispering among themselves. You could've sworn you caught them stealing glances at you. The guy in front of you turns around to face you. You raise a brow.

"Hi, I'm Max," he introduces, "I couldn't help but notice you."

Well, duh. I'm right behind you.

"Oh, hello Max," You forced a polite smile.

"These are my friends," he motions at the group of guys behind him and they all wave, "You should join us."

Does he not know the tickets have assigned seats? Embarrassing.

"No, I really shouldn't," you tried to sound as friendly as possible to avoid any trouble, but the guy was persistent and he was beginning to annoy you.

"It's alright, we don't bite. Are you alone?" He asks, slowly moving closer while you tried to move back. This guy was extremely creepy.

"Uh—"

"She said no. Fuck off," You heard Seokjin speak up from behind you, his voice much deeper and more intimidating causing chills to run down your spine. It was different from the way he spoke to you whenever you would banter.

"I was talking to her, who even are you?" Max says rudely and glares at Seokjin.

"I'm the guy she came with. What's your deal?" Seokjin moves forward and places his hand on your shoulder to subtly move you away from the guy.

"Oh, yeah? I never saw you talking to her," Max challenges.

"I think she already said no once. How many times does she have to decline before you understand that no means no?" Seokjin crosses his arms. He was much taller than the creepy guy, who was obviously starting to become intimidated by him.

"Dude, back the fuck off. We were here first," Max spits. They were so close, you almost thought a fight was about to happen.

"Do you realize how stupid you sound?" Seokjin frowns. That was enough. People were beginning to stare so you held onto Seokjin's arm, "Seokjin, it's fine. Just stop talking to him."

"No, this guy is extremely disrespectful and creepy!" Seokjin's voice was a little too loud now, "You don't get to force girls you don't even know to stick with you and your friends. That is so close to predatory behavior," he points at the guy and people start backing away from him and his friends.

"She already said no once, you shouldn't try to peer pressure her into coming with you!" Seokjin says, "And she's not alone," he grabs your hand, taking you by surprise, "She came with me. Now screw off before I call security."

Max, along with his friends, were evidently scared of Seokjin now as they all glared at him and left. Your heart was beating fast from anticipating the worst out of the scenario, but Seokjin handled it pretty well. You were too shy to admit it, but he saved your ass today.

The two of you watched as the group of guys left, his hand still clutching onto yours. When they were gone, he looked down at you, "Are you okay?" He asks, concern evident in his voice.

You were at a loss for words. He defended you, and he's still holding onto your hand really right. This was the first time you've ever seen him truly concerned about you. You'd like to think you could've defended yourself as well, but the fact that Seokjin did it for you sent this warm feeling in your chest that you couldn't understand.

"Yeah. Fine," you spoke but it came out as a whisper. You cleared your throat, "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"No problem," he gives you a small smile, "I don't suppose you still wanna watch this movie?"

"God, no, honestly," you laughed a bit, "I never wanted to."

He laughs and steps out of line and so do you, then he politely mentions the people behind you two to take your place. His hand was still holding yours, and you were beginning to wonder if he had noticed. You didn't let go, either.

"Let's hang out then," Seokjin blurts out. He tries to ignore the feeling of heat on his ears as he looks at you to wait for your response. You tried your hardest not to seem at all fazed.

"Sure."

Seokjin suggests going to an arcade, and so you did. When you got there, you both had to stand outside for ten minutes or so trying to finish the popcorn he bought because food and drinks weren't allowed inside.

"Why'd you buy such a big bag anyway? Were you planning on feeding the whole audience?" You tried to chew and swallow five at a time to hurry up.

"I thought the movie was gonna be boring, this was all I could do," Seokjin says defensively.

"At the rate we're eating this we're gonna get some kind of ulcer," You grumbled.

"You don't seem to be having a problem," he laughs and you playfully slap his arm.

Once you got in, you raced to one of those zombie shooting games. Seokjin was good at aiming and definitely had more kills than you did, but you couldn't help but laugh at how startled he got every time a jumpscare appeared.

"Look at all your deaths, you suck at this," he laughed while pointing at your score.

You blushed, "Ha-ha, funny. I bet you can't beat me at racing," you smirked, challenging him to a race.

"You're on," he grinned.

The two of you then proceeded to one of the car games and true enough, you beat him at it. He wasn't even close to being good. He hit every sidewalk and his car kept slowing down.

"Are you even driving? You might as well run if you even want a chance at winning," You teased as you continuously accelerated.

"How are you so good at this? Are you secretly part of those illegal street racers?" Seokjin was struggling with his car as he moved his steering wheel around.

When you were done racing, Seokjin spots one of those stuffed toy machines. "Do you want one?" He asks jokingly, not actually expecting you to say yes, though he didn't exactly mind getting one for you…

"No. Nuh-uh, that is so cheesy," you laughed and shook your head, "Let's play guitar hero."

It was difficult to admit it to yourself at first, but you were having so much fun with Seokjin. Of course, you two never stopped teasing each other with little insults, but now it felt so much more lighthearted. You started getting along well with him, it no longer felt awkward or forced.

Seokjin felt the same way. In fact, there were moments where he'd subconsciously find himself staring at your lashes, or giving you soft pats when you won a game as an excuse to get close to you. He didn't realize how natural it came to him at all, until he found his gaze fixed upon your smile that sent a warm feeling all over him.

You've never smiled at him so genuinely before. Seeing it now, it was as if your beauty had been completely magnetized. Now all he wanted to do was see more of that smile. In almost all the games you played, Seokjin decided to go easy on you so you'd win most of them. It was amusing to him, seeing you so competitive. Seeing you happy every time you won felt like a win for him as well.

When your eyes shifted to meet his, you noticed how he quickly looked away while the color of his ears turned into that familiar shade of red.

"Let's just play one last game, I'm starving," you held your hand to your stomach.

"Really? After all that popcorn?" He teased, followed by the sound of his own stomach rumbling, making you laugh.

"You tried," you laughed, "Let's play that one." You pointed at the Just Dance machine.

After a minute of arguing on what song to pick, Seokjin ended up choosing (your song of choice). Of all the games you could have picked, you started to regret choosing Just Dance. You didn't even /know/ how to dance, what made you think you could beat him at this game?

You glanced over at Seokjin who was dancing flawlessly and effortlessly. Your mouth dropped, and you stopped dancing altogether to watch him move. He was so focused on the game, he hadn't noticed you stopped playing just to watch him.

Your eyes fixated on his every move. He moved so well, you could feel your heart thumping louder as you watched in awe.

He was so attractive.

Finally, the game was over and Seokjin was surprised to see you standing there, just watching him with your mouth open. He holds back a laugh and moves towards you, placing his finger on your chin making you close your mouth. He was so close to you; you could feel your cheeks heat up.

"Surprised?" He asks.

"Who knew you could dance like that?" You spoke, but mostly to yourself.

"I don't know, natural talent I guess. Why'd you stop dancing, monkey? I thought you'd beat me at it," Seokjin pokes your forehead.

"I was just giving you a chance," You played off, "You should me thanking me."

He raises a brow and smiles, "Then as thanks I'll buy you food, come on."

You both decide to go for churros in a cafe. Seokjin suggested to dine in because you'd probably spill the chocolate as you walked, so you sat across each other in a small but comfortable space. Even though you insisted on paying for your own food, he beat you to it and paid for it instead.

"Just take it as a thank you gift for 'letting me win'," he says while adding air quotes. When he was no longer looking, you broke into a smile at his thoughtful gesture.

"You know, I never thought I'd say this but I'm actually having fun," You told him in manner where you tried to play it cool. He smiles and nods at this.

"See what happens when you aren't busy hating me?" He says with a cheesy smile, "You'll never find anyone as fun as I am."

"Sure, Seokjin," you rolled your eyes, "Just wait ‘til we start practicing and start ripping each other's throats out."

"That's not gonna happen."

"And why is that?"

"I'm confident something's changed," he grins charmingly with eyes looking fond for a moment you had to look away for fear of turning red in front of him.

You cleared your throat, "Whatever you say."

As you two continued to eat, you started talking about all sorts of things. Why you got into acting, how he was so good at dancing, how you and Courtney met. The flow of your conversations came naturally and you found yourselves wanting to know more and more about each other.

Time kept ticking, but you two didn't seem to notice. Even when you were done with your food, neither of you seemed close to running out of things to talk about.

Out of nowhere, Seokjin suddenly stopped and brought his hand close to you and you felt him gently touch your face. You stopped breathing.

"An eyelash," he says while moving his hand back.

"Oh, thanks," you tried hiding how flustered you were.

His phone started ringing, muttering a "One moment," before quickly answering it.

"Josh," he spoke. Your eyes widened.

Courtney!

You checked your own phone as Seokjin spoke to his friend. Your phone was filled with hundreds of messages from her asking where you two were and what you were doing.

"I'm with her," You heard Seokjin say, "You want us to leave you two alone? Then I guess you're doing well."

Leave them alone? That made you look up at him before typing a message to send to Courtney.

I'm with Seokjin and I'm doing great. I'll tell you everything later. I think Josh wants us to leave you guys alone. You alright? Are you having fun? Message me if you need me.

"Alright, see you tomorrow then. No, no it's fine, I'll bring her home," Seokjin continued, "Bye. Stay safe."

"They want us to leave them."

"I have ears, Seokjin."

"Big ones too, monkey," He jokes, "I'm kidding. And stop calling me Seokjin, no one calls me that."

Right, his friends called him Jin.

"Just call me Jin," He says, "None of my close friends call me Seokjin."

"Are you saying we're close friends?"

"I feel like we're moving too fast," He says sarcastically, laughing at his own joke before he continued, "No, our relationship's much more special than that."

You choked on your own saliva, "What?" Did you hear that right? Our relationship's what?

"We're partners that failed a paper and are now working on a movie," He laughs, "I'd say it's been great journey so far."

"And I'd say it's been a pleasure but it really hasn't."

"Seeing as you had fun with me today, I don't think that's true," he smirked. Why was it getting harder to get back at him?

"Shut up," You couldn't think of anything anymore.

You suddenly thought of asking him about it.

The reason why you disliked him so much in the first place. Why he left you alone without telling you.

Does he even remember?

But the mood between you two was great right now, so you decided to push the thought aside and ask some other time.

Shortly after, you two finally left the cafe and walked around, continuing your conversation. After a few more hours later, you decided it was getting late and that you should probably get back. Jin offered to take you home. The ride home was just as fun, blasting music and playing songs that you both knew.

He walked you back to your dorm and you both stopped at the steps outside the building.

"Thanks for today Monkey, I had fun," Jin smiles.

"Stop calling me that," You laughed.

"Then what do you suggest I call you?"

"Your highness."

"Too long. Princess?"

"Jeez, I was kidding," You chuckled nervously, obviously flustered so you took a step back on the first step, "Keep 'Monkey', I don't care."

He raises a brow at your response. "Your replies were better than that," Jin took a step in front of you, your faces were now close and your eyes levelled each other's. You gulped nervously.

"I'm just running out," You said coolly (or at least, in your head you thought it was cool), "You're moving to some new level of annoying and it takes some getting used to."

"I annoy you?" He asks.

"Yes. 24/7."

"I guess I'm living in your mind, rent-free," he smirks, "24/7, huh?"

You were beginning to feel even more flustered now and you knew that Jin noticed by the smirk on his face. He begins to step back and his face turns back to a warm smile.

"You wish," you spoke, "Bye, I'm leaving. Thanks for the drive." Before you could turn your back, Jin takes your hand and holds onto it. You almost muttered an "Oh my god" out loud at his action.

"Y/N, wait," he says, pulling you close to him, making you step down. Your faces were inches apart now.

"What?"

You heart was beating, trying to anticipate what he was gonna do next. Was he gonna lean in? Why was he staring at you like that? His face was so near. Did you want him to lean in?

"The last scene," he spoke.

"What?" Seemed like the only words you knew how to say now.

"The last scene," he spoke again, "We haven't practiced it yet."

Whatever it was you were expecting was off the table as you let out a sigh that Jin thought was out of relief. "Monday, we'll do it Monday. But we can't use the rehearsal room," you told him.

"Yeah, I figured. Where do you wanna practice, then?" He asks.

"Is your place available?" You asked before realizing how suggestive you sounded, "Because Courtney's usually home early."

Seokjin grins, "Yeah, my place is fine."

"Okay, great."

"Great."

"So, I'm gonna go now," You said slowly.

"Right," Jin lets go off you, "I'll see you Monday. For real this time."

"Monday, okay. See you," you waved before turning around and entering your dorm. You resisted the urge to look back and check if had already left, so you walked quickly before you changed your mind.

However, if you did look back, you'd find Jin patiently waiting until you were out of his sight, smiling to himself because of today's events. When he was sure you were gone, he finally left.

Jin was right. Something has definitely changed between you two. The day after your "date", you couldn't stop thinking about the way he was with you. He was kinder, more fun to be around. You didn't expect him to be that thoughtful, either. Of course, he was all these things to others, but now he was like that with you. Then you realized he was all you've been thinking about. It scared you slightly.

He really did live in your mind, rent-free.

"What happened, by the way?" Courtney asked.

You snap out of your thoughts and looked at her, "Yesterday?"

"Yeah, you and Seokjin disappeared."

"We decided not to watch the movie, then we hung out in an arcade."

"You hung out with him?" Courtney eyed you suspiciously, slowly making her way towards you to sit next to you on the bed.

"Yeah."

"And you're both still alive?"

"Yeah."

"So what was he like?" She asks.

"He was… nice. He saved my ass from a group of creepy guys," you smiled as you thought about it, "And he's good at dancing."

"You danced with him?"

"No, on Just Dance."

Courtney just stares, obviously shocked because she never thought you and Seokjin would get along, "You basically went on a date."

"It wasn't a date!" You said defensively, "We just… left you two. Didn't Josh tell Jin to leave you guys?"

"You call him Jin now, that's actually really cute," Courtney teases, then changes her expression to a frown, "Wait, no. Josh never said anything like that."

Huh? But I thought... "What do you mean?"

"He called Seokjin two hours later after you two still didn't show up, then he started going all 'What? What are you saying? No, I never said you two should leave us' and all that," Courtney explained, "Then he said Seokjin offered to take you home and that you two were still together. I got your message minutes later and you said you were doing great so I didn't worry."

"What? But Jin said he asked us to leave you guys…" You trailed off.

"He did? Well Josh never asked you guys to leave."

Oh my God. It didn't make sense. Why would Jin…?

"I'm thinking he wanted to spend more time with you," Courtney says, giving you a teasing look like she knew something. You only look at her. You didn't really know what to say.

It took you a while to sleep that night trying to analyze what was going on with Jin. Every little thing he did stuck in your head and it was making you confused. He affects you now in ways you never thought he ever would, you weren't sure if that terrified you.

One thing's for sure, this was the first time you wanted the weekend to pass by quickly.

You saw Jin on Monday, and the next day, and the day after that. Sometimes you'd practice, other days you'd both just sit down and talk if you were too tired. You still hadn't got the last scene right, both of you were still in the "dialogue-only" phase. Truthfully, you were both just waiting for the other to initiate it first.

On days where you and Jin would decide to just hang out and take a break, you began to notice how much nicer he had become towards you. Apart from that, you noticed him so much more now that you almost admired whatever it was he did.

Today was the last day of your practice and you both finally got through the scene. Tomorrow would be the actual shoot and you were already feeling confident that you'd do well. Just one part made you a bit uneasy, the actual kiss. You could feel how you two were so obviously trying to distract yourselves by doing other things, just to prevent an awkward atmosphere.

"Let's take a break," Jin says tiredly, sitting down on the floor.

"Shouldn't Yoongi be back by now?" You asked and sat down across him.

"No, he's over at his hometown visiting. Says he needs his space on his music project," Jin takes a piece of chip from the bag of snacks you brought, "He'll be back in a few days." You only nodded, staring at the television that was showing a movie with people drinking some fancy wine.

"I want that," you said quietly, mostly to yourself.

"Want what?" Jin looks at you, "That high class society? Fancy people around?"

"No, what they're drinking," You pointed at the wine.

"Wine?" His voice slightly sounding shocked.

"Yeah, I should tell Courtney to go get some…" you muttered absent-mindedly as you continued to watch the people drinking onscreen. Jin suddenly stands up and walks over to their mini fridge. You watched as he pulled a bottle of wine out and proceeded to grab wine glasses from a cabinet.

You sat up straight, not expecting him to actually bring you wine. "What are you doing?"

"You said you wanted wine," he says, setting the glasses down on the small coffee table.

"Yeah, but—" You stared at the bottle, "How do you even have that?"

"Yoongi drinks them to think," He says and pops it open, "I drink them with him." You stared as he poured himself a glass. "Do you want one?" He asks.

You took one of the empty glasses and moved it close to him, so he poured you some as well. Jin sat next to you on the floor as you two sat in silence, watching— no, just staring at the TV screen, sipping on your glasses of wine.

Later on, the TV was shut off and you two went back to talking. Your scripts were set aside on the bed, almost completely forgotten.

"I don't get drunk easily," Jin says, "I think you do, though. You're turning slightly red."

It was either that or because of how close you two were right now.

The wine made you talk so much, much more than usual. Jin found it interesting. He really did have a high alcohol tolerance, and watching you talk about the most random things amused him a lot.

"There's something I wanna know," You spoke, "Two things, actually." This was it. You weren't drunk, but you were beginning to lose the ability to filter the words coming out of your mouth.

"What is it?" He asks softly.

"Why did you tell me Josh told us to leave them alone?" You stared at him, he stared back at you.

"How'd you know about that?" He asks.

"Courtney." You heart beat fast. You knew what you wanted to hear, you just wanted him to say it fast.

"I'll answer you, but you'll have to answer my question after, deal?"

"Deal."

Jin set his glass down before looking deep into your eyes.

"I wanted to spend more time with you." He wanted to say something more than that. Something more serious, but he had to know your answer first.

You weren't sure what to make of that now. It was what you wanted to hear… or was it? Now it could mean completely different things.

"Oh, okay," your face began to heat up, and it wasn't because of the alcohol now, "So what's your question?"

"Why did you hate me so much? I mean, assuming you don't anymore… unless you still do," Jin asks.

"What?"

"What?"

You looked at him, searching for any sign of sarcasm or a tell that he was lying. He wasn't. He looked back at you with a serious expression on his face. There was a silence that lasted for a minute, almost as if time had stopped.

"You don't remember?"

"Don't remember what? Was it something I did?" Jin looks confused. Maybe he really didn't remember. But it only happened eight months ago. Has it really been that long?

"Eight months ago a friend set me up with you," You explained, feeling slightly embarrassed at the context.

"Someone set you up with me?" Jin asks, raising a brow.

"Yeah…" you could feel your face heating up now, "It was supposed to be like a blind date thing, so I initially didn't know it was you. So I went to the place and waited but you stood me up and when I told my friend about it, she told me Kim Seokjin couldn't make it."

"Then when I saw you the next day, you didn't seem to care and it made me so angry— the fact that you never apologized or even talked about it," You continued, "And that made me despise you."

Jin was staring at the floor now trying to recall what happened. He looked lost and confused. He reached out for his glass and took a sip before turning to face you again.

"I don't hate you anymore," You told him, in fact maybe you were beginning to feel the opposite for weeks now.

"Y/n, are you sure that happened? Because I don't remember ever being set up with you—or anyone, for that matter," Jin says, "And believe me when I say that because I've always turned down set ups and blind dates and whatnot."

"Huh?"

"I swear, that really wasn't me. Someone must've used my name."

"Why would someone use your name?"

"I don't know, I—" He runs his hand through his hair, "I've been told there are guys who are jealous of me or something. Maybe they used my name to get back at me."

"That's so low," you felt a pang of guilt now. You've been hating on him for all the wrong reasons, everything suddenly felt like a false memory. If only you'd known sooner, "What the fuck," you muttered quietly.

"What the fuck indeed," Jin sighs.

"I'm so sorry, I should've known," You looked at him.

"No, don't be. I'm sorry you had to go through that, and I apologize you thought it was me all along," He held your hand, "If anything, I should've known. You were never just mean to anyone on purpose. I should've asked you."

There was silence between you two as he stared at both of your hands intertwined, while you stared at his face, trying to get everything to sink in.

"What was your second question?" Jin finally asks.

"Why you stood me up," you laughed, "Turns out you didn't."

"You know," Jin spoke while his free hand reached for his glass. He finishes the drink in his hand before continuing, "If you did ask me out, I wouldn't leave you out in the cold."

You laughed, "Why would I ask you out?"

"I don't know. Got any ideas?" Jin teased. You smiled and bit your lip, not knowing what to say next. The lip bite did things to him, but he was trying his very best not to seem at all fazed before realizing he was already staring at your lips.

Maybe you were tipsy enough to finally do this.

You drank your wine and grabbed your script from the bed. Jin watched as you flipped over to the last scene.

"Michael," you began reading your lines as you stood, Jin's hand leaving yours, "You know we can't do this. It'll ruin everything."

Jin doesn't even need his script anymore due to the countless times you've both practiced the dialogues alone, "It's not gonna ruin everything, or anything for that matter." He stands up to face you.

"Yes, it will. You know how this will risk our friendship. This won't end well."

"Your eyes tell me otherwise."

"I don't—"

"You do, and you know it," Jin moves closer now, and you can feel your heart beating.

"Emily, I love you. I always have, and you know that. I know you feel the same." He places his hand on your waist. There were no lines left for you to read now, just one last thing your characters needed to do.

It was at this point where you both felt the wine was getting to your system.

He leaned in close, staring at your lips as you slowly moved back. When you couldn't anymore, you felt his lips meet yours, and before you knew it, he was kissing you— and you were kissing him back. You could feel his soft lips pressing against yours as your hands travelled up to his chest. You both fell back onto his bed as the kiss progressed into a rougher pattern of movements. Your hands grabbed onto his shirt while one of his hands gripped onto your waist, the other pushed back onto the mattress for support.

When you two pulled away to gasp for air, the awkwardness of the position you two were in never registered your brain. Instead, your eyes met each other's, searching for any sign of denial. When Jin sensed that there was none, he crashed his lips back onto yours.

Your mind was overflowing with euphoria and adrenaline. You were nervous, excited— you didn't know what was going to happen next. The moment his lips started trailing down your neck, small sounds began to escape from your lips. Whimpers that drove Jin wild as he began to pick up the pace.

The scene about to happen was no longer part of the script, but you were both more than willing to play the part.

The next morning, you woke up next to Jin who was sleeping soundly with his arms wrapped around you. Last night's events started coming back to you as you gently tried to squiggle out of his hold.

Panic was the first feeling that rushed over you.

1. The shoot was in a few hours and here you were, dressed in Jin's oversized shirt and sweat pants.

2. Your tendency to over think began creeping in.

What if he only did it because of the heat of the moment? You suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment because you thought you had initiated the whole thing with the script reading and all. Maybe he liked you. Maybe he didn't. Neither of you said anything about liking the other last night, so what if it didn't mean anything? You couldn't deal with this right now, so you silently picked up your things and left.

It was still pretty early in the morning, so you tried your best not to make a sound while Courtney was asleep. You took a shower and got ready before you headed out and went to the place where you had to film.

The group of upperclassmen greeted you as you walked in and made your way to Oliver, who would be directing the whole film.

"Hey, y/n. Glad you're here early, where's Jin?" Oliver asks.

"I think he's on his way," you lied. As if on cue, Jin enters the room and people start to greet him. Oliver calls him and Jin makes his way to you two. You couldn't look at him at all.

"You two should start changing, we'll start in 30," Oliver announces and you two head for the changing rooms. You walked a little faster to avoid conversation.

For the rest of the filming process, you both received compliments from everyone on your acting skills. You barely needed to repeat takes which was a relief. You and Jin had the perfect chemistry.

Jin kept trying to talk to you in between breaks, but you'd just give short and simple answers, sometimes just avoiding him altogether. You just couldn't bring yourself to make any eye contact that wasn't on set, or else you'd feel this churning feeling in your stomach and it made you uncomfortable. Soon enough, Jin got the idea and suddenly turned all silent as he observed your every move.

Finally, you had to shoot the last scene. You tried your very best not to appear bothered which seemed to work because no one has asked about why you look so uneasy. Jin was trying his best not to beg you to tell him what was wrong.

"I want you guys to give this your best shot. This scene is the most important, and I need to see more of your chemistry, got it?" Oliver tells them.

The cameras began rolling and Oliver shouts "action".

"Michael, you know we can't do this. It'll ruin everything." You were sat on a sofa and Jin was standing next to it.

"It's not gonna ruin everything, or anything for that matter." Jin says his line and sits close, next to you. You look back at him.

"Yes, it will. You know how this will risk our friendship. This won't end well." You stood up and turned away from him.

He places his hands on your waist and turns you around for your eyes to meet. He pauses for a brief second before his line, "Your eyes tell me otherwise."

"I don't—"

"You do, and you know it." Jin continues, pulling you closer to him. "Emily, I love you. I always have, and you know that. I know you feel the same." he places his hand on your cheek, and you both stare at each other.

"Maybe I do," you muttered, shocking Jin. He continues the act and finally pulls you in for a kiss. Everything came flashing back. You wanted more than what you two had now, it was so easy to see.

"Cut!" Oliver shouts and he begins to clap and you and Jin began to pull away. He looks at you for a moment, and you look back at him.

"Y/n, that improvisation was amazing!" Oliver shouts, still clapping his hands together. You snap out of it and laugh nervously, "Thanks."

"If I hadn't known better, I'd think you two were seeing each other," Oliver teases, "I'm glad you two took this role. Thanks, you guys."

After a few more praises from Oliver, you headed back to the changing room to wear your normal clothes. Scenes of your kiss and scenes from last night began replaying in your mind. You wanted to ask him what it meant, but you were afraid to be the only one falling.

You left the changing room and decided to leave quietly. As you were about to head out, you heard a voice call from behind you.

"Y/n."

The voice alone made you stop in your tracks. There was no need to turn around to know who it was; it was Jin. He walked over to you, holding your wrist so you would face him.

"You're avoiding me," he spoke. You looked around, checking if the coast was clear. When you decided it was, you soon.

"I'm not," you lied.

"Stop lying," the hurt in his voice was evident, "You are. You wouldn't even answer my texts."

"You texted?" You hadn't checked your phone since you left his apartment, "I haven't checked my phone."

"Why did you leave?" He had this disappointed look on his face. Knowing it was because of you made you feel even worse.

"Honestly? I was scared," you admitted.

"Of what?"

"That we only did that because of the heat of the moment. That it was all just for fun. That it was because of the alcohol. That it meant nothing."

"Is that really what you think?"

"No," You looked down, "I mean, I'd like to think it isn't."

"Y/n, you know it isn't," Jin said quietly.

"I didn't think it was," he admits, making you look up at him, "I meant it all. Me wanting to spend time with you. Walking you home. Kissing you. It all meant something to me."

"It did?"

"Yeah. When you fell asleep before I did, you looked so peaceful. I started thinking about how I could look at you forever, and the thought of waking up next to you made me happy," He held your hand, "But when I woke up, you were gone."

"I'm sorry, Jin, I just—" You sighed, "I thought of all the worst things and left. I panicked. That's really all I can say." He nodded.

"But did you mean what you set on set? Or was it really just improv?" He asked, his eyes staring deeply into yours.

You nodded, "Yeah, I did."

Jin just nodded and looked at your eyes. Had you really upset him this much?

"Jin, I'm really s—"

Before you could finish your apology, Jin takes his free hand and grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer for a kiss.

This time it felt different.

It felt so, real. No alcohol, no script. It was just Jin.

You wanted it to last forever.

When you two finally pulled away, Jin was the first to speak.

"I like you, a lot, y/n. And I've realized that for a while now," he tells you.

"I like you too," you couldn't help but smile, ignoring at how much your cheeks burned. It was fine, Jin's ears were just as red, "Even though you suck at racing games and my ideal boyfriend is an illegal street racer.”

Jin laughs, and you couldn't help but laugh with him because of all this. All the banter turned to compliments and all the eye-rolling turned to kisses. Now you were more than just partners who failed a paper and ended up working on a movie.

"That's alright, Monkey," Jin grins before placing a kiss on your forehead.

"The only thing I need to keep racing is your heart, not a car."

a/n: sorry it got longer than expected. anyways if you read until here, thank you for reading! i hope you liked it! send me comments/asks anytime if u want.

also, if you’d like to read my two other works, here are the links!

let’s fall in love for the night

welcome to my youtube channel

which are both taehyung x readers.

see you in my next fic/edit!

[giveemhales]

Moodboards for Sterek AUs: 22/?

For @sterekvalentineweek Day 3

Secret Crush

4 times Stiles gave Derek a valentine, and 1 time Derek decided to return the favor.

The story can be read under the cut or on AO3!

1st grade

Derek was new, and that’s what causes the whole fiasco.

Well, not exactly new. He had been at the school since the school year had started back in August, and it was now February. But he was new in that it’s the first year anyone in his family has ever attended public school. Born into a powerful pack of werewolves with a history spanning back centuries, he had been raised surrounded only by werewolves and humans who knew about the supernatural. None of his relatives had ever gone to public school, as the risk was deemed too great to send children out in public where they may accidentally reveal their true nature. Derek and his siblings were supposed to be home-schooled, as was tradition.

However, times were changing, and their emissary had suggested the children should start attending public school. Not only was it to help the children learn how to handle being around humans and in public, but also the hunters were becoming more aggressive, and it was advised that they act as much like normal humans as possible so as not to raise suspicion.

So Derek and his older sister, Laura, were the first werewolves in the Hale pack history to go to public school. It was their first year for both of them, Derek in first grade and Laura in second. They had spent the years before learning how to control their shift under the guise of home-schooling, and the family was confident they would blend right in. 

They did blend in, for the most part, never letting their eyes change color and holding back growls no matter how angry they became. But apparently, there was more to being human than just looking the part. There were all these rules and customs that everyone seemed to know except them. Derek rarely minded his family’s social faux pas, honestly never really noticing them. But on this one occasion, everyone noticed, and he was particularly upset.

It was Valentine’s Day, a holiday which his family never celebrated (why did humans need a holiday to show their adoration for their mates? How strange). The lack of experience with the holiday is why nobody in the family realized it was customary to bring “valentines” to school to share with classmates, and that’s why he arrived empty-handed. 

When all the other students set up their boxes in which to receive treats, he watched in confusion, which morphed into dawning horror when he realized everyone had gifts to hand out except for him.

Derek had hoped he could slip under the radar, receive the gifts like everyone else and then maybe bring double the treats next year to make up for it. 

The teacher had a different idea. The teacher scolded him in front of the whole class for being irresponsible and inconsiderate, and told him that if he had nothing to share, then nobody could share with him. He had to sit in the corner by himself and think about what he had done wrong (he was 6 years old, he didn’t have money or a calendar, this hardly seemed like his fault).

So Derek sat in the corner by himself, not only having to hear all of the other kids laugh and have a great time, but also smell the delicious treats thanks to his werewolf nose. He was used to being on his own at school, not having made any real friends, but it hurt so much more knowing he was being purposefully excluded. He had to fight hard to hold back his claws, and even harder to fight back tears. He hated this stupid school and the stupid humans in it and their stupid rules and traditions and just wanted to go home. 

When the school day was finally, blessedly over, Derek shuffled out of the room with his head bowed and shoulders hunched, not wanting to see the smiles on all of the other kids’ faces and not wanting them to see the frown on his, unable to help feeling like they were mocking him.

He made it out the front doors of the school, and thought he was finally free, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned with a scowl. It was a student in his class named Stiles. Derek wasn’t really friends with him. They had played together at recess a couple of times and he seemed funny and nice, but it wasn’t like they had ever spoken outside of school.

Derek began to wonder if he was wrong in his categorization of Stiles as nice, because he could think of no reason for any of his classmates to stop him except to gloat. Before Stiles had even said anything, Derek was already seething, thinking about the treat Stiles had brought that everyone had gotten to try except for him. While most of the students had just brought candy, Stiles had brought clearly homemade sugar cookies, and the scent had had Derek salivating in his isolation. 

Before he could snap at Stiles in anger, however, Stiles thrust his hands forward in an offering. Derek looked down and was surprised to see he was holding two cookies, each partially covered by a napkin.

“Sorry Mrs. Johnson was so mean to you today. She said that we weren’t allowed to give you any valentines but I think that’s mean and dumb and I don’t follow mean and dumb rules. So I saved you a cookie. Actually, I saved you two cookies, one of them is for your sister because I figure if you didn’t bring any valentines then she probably didn’t either and might have also not been allowed any treats, which would be so sad because what’s the point of Valentine’s day besides the treats. If you eat them both, though, that’s okay because you didn’t get any candy or anything so I think you probably deserve two cookies. I would give you even more cookies but I only had the one that was already for you, and then the extra one my mom packed in my lunch box. I wanted to eat that one and then I also wanted to eat yours but I realized I shouldn’t because my mom already gave me a cookie last night so I really don’t need another and also my mom bakes all the time and most people don’t get to try the greatness of her cookies and so I have a respons- responsabl- responsibit- it’s my job to share the cookies.” 

Stiles finally quit his rambling to stare expectantly at Derek, who was staring back in shock. He shoved his hands forward again, until Derek finally took the offered cookies.

Derek didn’t even get the chance to say thank you before Stiles was talking again, telling some story about a time he forgot his shoes at home and how that was way worse than forgetting some valentines. He kept talking before he noticed the bus was beginning to leave, and sprinted off without so much as a goodbye. 

Derek looked down once again at the cookies, and saw there was a note included. Written on a sticky note in first-grader scrawl, it said Sorry the teacher is so mean. You can be my BVF (best valentine forever). Valentine was written three different times, the first two times crossed out as he clearly wasn’t positive how the word was spelled.

Derek did end up giving the second cookie to Laura, and he found he didn’t mind because he knew the note was all his.  

4th grade

Derek still didn’t particularly care for Valentine’s Day, his introduction to the holiday forever tainting his opinion, but he had still come to find himself excited about the impending sugar. 

There was a storm cloud over this Valentine’s Day, though, at least for Derek and definitely for Stiles. Ever since first grade, Derek had looked forward to the homemade treats Stiles would bring, baked with love by his mother.

Derek knew that wouldn’t be the case on this day, though, because Stiles’ mother had passed away a couple of months before.

Everyone in the small town knew about it, rumors constantly spreading about the sheriff’s new drinking habits. Nobody seemed to notice the effect it had on the young boy. But Derek did.

Stiles had become more withdrawn in the months leading up to his mother’s death, presumably having to deal with her illness, but it was like he shut down once she was gone. The boy who once talked a mile a minute now was silent, except for the occasional whispers to his best friend. His absences became more frequent, and he stopped bringing a lunch to school, instead having to buy cafeteria food he would rarely eat. The worst part though was the scent of grief that constantly clung to him.

Derek saw how badly he was affected and could only hope that he would heal with time. Derek wished he knew how to help, but he still hadn’t even figured out how to make friends, let alone how to help someone cope with the loss of a parent.

So Derek knew he wouldn’t be getting any baked goods on this day, that he probably wouldn’t be receiving anything from Stiles. He just hoped that the teacher wasn’t as rude about it as his first-grade teacher had been.

Derek was proven wrong though. Stiles hadn’t brought cookies or anything of the like, but he had brought valentines. For every classmate, he had a red piece of paper which he had folded into a heart and marked with their names. They weren’t perfect, but they were definitely better than most nine-year-olds could do. 

Derek was so touched at the small gift, and seethed when he saw none of the other students saw it for what it was. He even saw one student throw their heart in the trash (which Derek made a point to dig out and keep for himself because that heart was something Stiles had spent time on and deserved to be cherished). None of the students realized how kind Stiles was. That while dealing with grief, which was probably made even worse with the holiday bringing on a reminder of a tradition he could no longer partake in, and a father who himself was probably still grieving and didn’t remember he was supposed to get valentines for his son, Stiles had still made sure he had something to give to his classmates. This gift was far more valuable than anything any other student had brought. 

Derek was even more touched when he realized that there was a note written inside of the heart, too. He carefully unfolded it, making sure to keep track of how he did it so he would be able to refold it, and read what was inside.

Don’t tell Scott, but you’re still my favorite Valentine.

It was made even better when he realized the other heart he had, the one from the trash, had no note, meaning Stiles had written a note especially for Derek. 

Derek gave Stiles the warmest smile he could from across the room and vowed to keep that note forever. 

6th grade

Derek was quick to realize Valentine’s Day was not the same in middle school as in elementary. For one, there was no making mailboxes or handing out valentines. If you wanted to celebrate the holiday, you had to do it on your own time. 

The second major difference was that “like-liking” someone was a thing, and lots of girls “like-liked” Derek. Derek was apparently one of the cutest guys in the grade, and that helped immensely with his popularity. He had finally been able to make some friends, which was nice. 

Derek wasn’t really a fan of all of the attention he got at school, though. He would have preferred to just spend time with the couple of best friends he had made, and ignore all of the people who wanted to be his friend solely for his status.

He knew Valentine’s Day would give some girls the perfect opportunity to confess their “feelings” for him (they didn’t even know him!) and Derek was not looking forward to it.

Derek had been correct in his assumption, and by the end of the day, three different girls had asked to be his Valentine, and he had to kindly reject them all. It was far too much for him, and he was exhausted by the end of the day. 

Before he could go home, though, he had to stop at his locker to grab a textbook he needed for class.

He was surprised, and a little bit disturbed, to find a box of chocolates in his locker. It was definitely too big for someone to just slip through the slots, so someone would have had to break into his locker to get it there. 

Derek immediately felt all of his annoyance of the day growing. Why could these girls not leave him alone?

However, when he leaned in to grab the box, he caught a whiff of a scent that had him calming down.

Stiles.

Suddenly, Derek found he wasn’t too upset. It wasn’t at all surprising that the boy knew how to break into lockers, and Derek found himself inexplicably preening at the thought that the boy still wanted to be his Valentine.

Taped to the bottom of the box was a typed note with no signature, clearly meant to anonymous. Derek likely never would have known who it was if it wasn’t for his werewolf senses.

The note simply read “Why don’t they let us hand out candy anymore? Middle school is lame. Don’t worry, I won’t let them ruin the holiday for you (everyone knows the sweets are the whole point). Hope you enjoy the chocolates, valentine.”

On second thought, Derek realized he probably would have been able to figure out it was Stiles, just based on the note. He could practically hear the words in Stiles’ voice. He would still let him think he got away with being anonymous, though.    

Maybe middle school Valentine’s Days weren’t so bad, after all. 

10th grade

Derek just knew this was going to be the worst Valentine’s Day ever, and he wished that he could just skip the whole day. He would totally pretend to be sick so he could stay home except that werewolves can’t get sick so he doubted that would fly with his parents.

Derek had broken up with his girlfriend, Paige, just a couple of weeks before. He knew that in the grand scheme of things they weren’t that serious, they hadn’t even been together for a whole year, but he had felt like he was madly in love with her. 

He was healing, of course, and, for the most part, had moved on. But Valentine’s Day would just be a reminder of what he was missing (it stung every time he remembered he never got the chance to celebrate Valentine’s Day with her, he had been secretly excited to finally have a real significant other to be romantic with). That, and due to his popular status, the day would either bring on pitying looks from all of the students who thought his relationship was somehow their business, or flirting from girls who thought they now had a chance. Knowing his luck, probably a combination of both. 

Derek groaned when he walked into his first-period history class and saw a heart-shaped balloon tied to the back of the desk he usually sat at. This was absolutely the last thing he wanted to deal with. He thought about just sitting at a different desk but figured it was better to go ahead and throw away the balloon before class started so as to avoid drawing any attention. 

When he got to his desk, he saw a note tied to the string of the balloon. He opened it and a smile bloomed on his face when he was met with typed words.

Of course! He had been so focused on Paige that he forgot about the annual tradition Stiles had begun in the sixth grade of leaving secret gifts with notes for Derek. 

Stiles wasn’t even in the class so Derek didn’t even know how he had known which desk was his, but at this point, nothing Stiles did could really surprise him. 

I know they may not be the usual sweets, but I figure with this, you can tell anyone who bothers you that you already have a valentine. You know I’ve always got your back, Valentine.

The note just reconfirmed for Derek that it was from Stiles.

The gift cheered him up immensely, and he felt his qualms about the day beginning to melt away.

~~~

The day dragged on until lunch, made better by the balloon Derek carted around, which actually did help keep people away.

Derek was sitting at his usual spot with his friends when he hears a commotion from the other side of the cafeteria, and turned to see what was going on.

It seemed everyone turned to look, although he’s not sure if they can all hear. It was easy enough with his enhanced senses, though.

Derek could make out Stiles standing up on a table, looking down at a girl with strawberry blonde hair. The rest of the people at the table had faces ranging from shock to embarrassment, except for one guy who looked like he was fuming. Derek honestly didn’t know if that table was where Stiles usually sat, or if he had just decided to crash.

“Lydia, today, on the most romantic day of the year, I must make my feelings known. I know you are a goddess and I am a mere mortal, but my heart sings for you and I can no longer hide it. Reject your other suitors, for none see how brightly you shine like I do. Please accept this token of my affection, and be my Valentine.” Stiles opened up a thin box he had been holding to reveal a heart-shaped cookie cake.

Derek cringed in second-hand embarrassment, especially when he saw people giggling and filming the whole thing.

“I’ll think about it,” the girl responded in an airy voice. She was too far away that Derek couldn’t tell if she was being mocking or serious.

Stiles’ grin didn’t leave his face as he stepped down from the table. Derek saw him offer Lydia the cookie cake, but she held her hand up in rejection. Stiles shrugged and held the box closer, then grabbed his friend, who Derek recognized as his best friend Scott, by the shoulder and rushed out of the cafeteria.

Derek found himself fuming. At first, he thought it was at the way everyone was laughing at Stiles after he put himself out there, and the way the girl didn’t even appreciate what he had done. But he realized that wasn’t what it was, not really.

It was jealousy.

Derek had always cherished the tradition he had going on with Stiles (although he supposed it was mostly one-sided and it was secret), and it had made him feel special. Now he felt like it meant nothing. It was nothing more than Stiles feeling bad for the kid who once had a bad Valentine’s Day.

Derek abruptly shoved away from his table and stood up. He grumbled an excuse about having to be somewhere and stomped out of the cafeteria, annoyed he had to drag the balloon from Stiles with him. All he wanted was to pop the dumb balloon and shove it in a trash can, but knew he would regret it if he decided to do that in front of a cafeteria full of people.

As Derek stormed down the, thankfully empty, hallway, he heard a voice. He froze when he recognized that it was Stiles’ voice. He immediately hid himself against the wall, then rolled his eyes when he realized Stiles wasn’t even coming toward him, but seemed to be having a conversation in the hallway perpendicular to the one Derek was in. Derek knew there was no reason to, but he couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

“I just don’t understand why you did that! You know Lydia would never go for you!” That was Scott’s voice, and Derek couldn’t help but feel offended on Stiles’ behalf. 

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Scott. I feel like the more pressing issue that you could have mentioned is the fact that I don’t even swing that way, which would have been a much less hurtful thing to say.” 

Derek froze. Had he heard that correctly? He felt guilty realizing he had listened to Stiles out himself, but felt frozen in his spot.

Scott sighed explosively. “Okay, so then why did you do it?”

Stiles gave an equally dramatic sigh. “Because Lydia asked me to, duh. Besides the fact I’m too afraid of her to say no, she gave a compelling argument. She’s currently fighting with Jackson and wanted to piss him off and make him jealous, and you know I’m always down to piss Jackson off. Plus, she said she would get a cookie cake and let me keep it, which, as you can see, she did. Plus, it’s not like I have a reputation to uphold. This isn’t even the most embarrassing thing I’ve done this year.”

Scott laughed. “Oh yeah, you mean like wooing the same person for years but not even telling them it’s you? Or talking to them?”

Stiles hissed out a “shut up” in anger, but Derek tuned out the rest of the conversation, feeling like he was on cloud nine. 

Scott must have been talking about all of the gifts Stiles had been giving to Derek. Which meant it did mean something, and that Stiles actually had feelings for Derek. Not for Lydia, who didn’t even appreciate Stiles.

Derek spent the rest of the day feeling like he was floating, proudly holding his balloon through the hallways. It wasn’t until the end of the day that Derek that the way he was reacting was a bit over the top unless…

Did Derek also have feelings for Stiles?

12th grade

Derek felt like his heart was about to pound out of his chest, and he was certain he had already sweat through his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this nervous. 

It was Valentine’s Day, his last one before he went to college. He knew if he didn’t do anything, it would be fine. Stiles would probably give him an anonymous gift like every year, and it would be a nice thing to reminisce about one day. It would be the same as always.

But Derek decided he couldn’t let things stay the same, and he was about to throw a wrench in Stiles’ plans. 

He wasn’t sure at what point he had begun to develop feelings for Stiles, but he had realized in tenth grade after he heard about Stiles’ feelings that they were definitely there, and at this point they had become too deep to ignore. He wanted to be Stiles’ valentine but he wanted it to be for real this time, and the only way to make that happen was by telling him. And desperately hoping that he hadn’t completely misinterpreted everything.

Derek had arrived to school over half an hour early, parking right next to Stiles’ usual spot to make sure he didn’t miss him. He wanted to catch him in the parking lot, to hopefully stay out of the way of prying eyes. 

It had seemed like a good idea, but now he was left stewing in his own anxiety, thinking about everything that could go wrong and wondering if he should back out now before it was too late. He even wondered if he shouldn’t have made his younger sister hitch a ride with someone else so that at the very least he would have company, but he knew she would only make him more stressed. Sisters were evil like that.

Fifteen minutes before school began and Stiles finally arrived.

It was now or never. 

Derek got out of his car just as Stiles did, and called his name. Stiles jumped in shock and turned to face Derek. Derek caught a whiff of nerves off of him, but he didn’t run, so at least that was a good start.

“Can I talk to you real quick?”

Stiles looked surprised, but he nodded and approached Derek. “Uh, sure. Did you want to go inside, or…”

“No, we can talk out here. Actually, it’s better out here, because I have some stuff. In my car, I mean. So it’s easier if it’s here and I don’t have to carry it and we can just talk here now.” Derek realized none of what he was saying was making sense, and felt dread pool in his stomach when he saw the confusion growing on Stiles’ face. God, why was this so hard?

“I just wanted to say- uh- Happy Valentine’s Day. Well, that wasn’t all I wanted to say, but- One sec.” Derek ducked into the back of his car, glad he had an excuse to collect himself for a moment.

When he reemerged, it was with a box which he placed on top of his trunk. He was grateful to see that Stiles hadn’t fled.

Derek looked down at the box, avoiding eye contact with Stiles to the best of his ability, and began pulling out items one by one. “In second grade, you brought me a brownie, one that had heart-shaped sprinkles that your mother had baked. In third grade, it was an equally delicious cupcake.” He pulled out a brownie and cupcake (both store-bought and certainly not as good as Stiles’ mother’s baked goods, but baking was not his strong suit) and shoved both into Stiles’ hands, continuing on before Stiles could interrupt him. “In fourth grade, it was a folded heart, which I now realize was very impressive, since I’m about double the age you were when you made ones for the whole class and just this one took me about 20 tries.” He gave out a self-deprecating laugh, and once again handed the item to Stiles. “In fifth grade, it was a heart-shaped lollipop. In sixth, a box of chocolates. Seventh, conversation hearts.” He realized Stiles’ hands were too full to hold anything else, and began placing the items onto the trunk next to the box instead. “In eighth grade, it was a teddy bear. Freshman year, it was chocolate covered strawberries. Sophomore year, you gave me a heart-shaped balloon, which was actually quite useful.” He had to lean back into his car to grab the balloon, since it had been too big for the box. “Last year, it was roses. And all of it began in first grade, when you decided the nobody kid in the class with no friends deserved to have something nice, no matter what the teacher said, when you gave me the best cookie I have, to this day, ever had. You told me then, and for years to come, that I was your valentine. And as much as I loved that, I want something more. Will you be my real valentine? Will you be mine?” Finally, he pulled out a heart-shaped cookie, covered with pink icing and the words Be Mine written on top.

Derek finally looked up at Stiles, who had his mouth open in shock. He smelled like a myriad of emotions, and Derek was having difficulty getting a read on him. As the seconds passed, he began to get the sinking feeling he had royally fucked up.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles finally burst out, and barrelled on before Derek could even figure out what part he was reacting to. “You’ve ruined my ten-year plan! I have been secretly wooing you- or at least I thought it was secret- for years, and today was going to be the grand finale! I was going to confess that it was me all along and then I was going to offer you a kiss and if it was weird and you weren’t interested I had some chocolate kisses to give you so I could play it off all cool, but then if you were interested we were going to have a great, romantic first kiss. But you have out-romanced me in one fell swoop! How dare you!”

Derek stared back in shock. He felt.. actually he had no idea how he felt and wasn’t even sure what part of that he was supposed to react to first.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Stiles demanded, although Derek could see the smile hidden on his face.

“Uh… is a kiss still on the table?”

“Chocolate or real?”

“What do you think?”

Stiles pretended to think about it for a moment. “Well, after that grand romantic gesture, I would say a real kiss. But I do know you have a sweet tooth, so it’s hard to say for sure…”

“How about this? You kiss me now, and then after school we go on a date and finish that whole bag of kisses together. And all this store-bought shit I got you. Sound like a good compromise to you?”

Stiles smirked. “Sounds perfect, Valentine.”

After that, Derek helped Stiles put all of the gifts into his Jeep, and then they walked hand and hand to the school, not even caring they were probably late at this point.

Suddenly, a thought hit Derek, and he froze, causing Stiles to stumble and then turn to him with an expectant eyebrow raised.

“Wait, you said ten-year plan. Have you actually been wooing me this whole time?”

Stiles blushed, and it was the prettiest thing Derek had ever seen. “Well, not exactly. But after I gave you that cookie in first grade, I saw the way your eyes lit up, and when you smiled at me, well, my little 6-year-old heart knew you were going to be the only Valentine I’d ever need.”

[lurking96]

Chapter 320 or why it is better than thought but not great

As last time I talked about my opinion with chapter 319 this time I will talk about chapter 320. This is my opinion. I do not claim it to be the absolute undeniable truth. This piece might be seen as Anti Bakugou so again it is under the cut and the tags are added so they can be filtered out.

So how we ended the last chapter we start out in the rain again. We see Iidas more serious face and of course we see Bakugou who calls Izuku “drawn differently” that might even be some form of Meta joke on how Izuku looks well more “edgy” now than before. Also still calls him a nerd. We then have Izuku attempting to flee by using his new Smokescreen technique. Bakugou in turn uses a new technique of his to just blow it away. An explosion. Here now is my question How? How does Bakugou make an explosion that just doesnt add more smoke. I hope that gets explained or thats just another asspull on his account. A more important thing in that scene is that Bakugou calls him some OFA bigshot and that Izuku must see everyone just as NPCS. This is Bakugou projecting on Izuku. This is how Bakugou acts towards people. Thinking he is some big shot and claiming everyone an extra. It shows that while Bakugou claims he understands Izuku he does not understand him. He projects his own personality on Izuku now that he thinks him to be “strong”. Bakugou thinks that kindness doesnt exist. That you cant do stuff for others without a reward attached. That people look down on others. Because he does those things. And to validate his worlview of course others must act like this too. He still sees him as weakling but also strong. Strong like Bakugou sees himself. Also for once Izuku is doing his own thing without Bakugou inserting himself into the narrative at first. That must probably be a shock to Bakugou who doesn’t want to be an extra or side character. It feels a bit like the whole “He reached his hand out to me because he looked down on me.” bit he had going on with Izuku and still does not seem to be over with. A thing after this we see is how Koda says that Nedzu said that he can come back. There seems to be miscommunication there. Izuku did not leave because Nedzu threw him out. He left to protect them as he is AFOs main target and AFO nuked an island before to deal with a holder of OFA. UA had compromised security before so there really is no reason for Izuku to trust them now with their security. It also doesnt make sense for AFO to attack UA now. It would just show that Izuku didnt need to isolate and should have been there. But AFO wants to isolate him. So it would be better to attack when Izuku would be back at UA. To show that he brought the main target to the promised safe house. So it would kinda play into AFOs hands to get him back. We have this followed by Sero holding down Blackwhip. (Dont get me wrong would love to give Sero a quirk awakening and more screen time but it felt a bit weird). We then have Jiro and Ojiro (finally screentime for him) talk about what Izuku did for them. How he helped them. Izuku says that he should leave that he paints a target on their back. That he doesnt want AFO to kill them. Dark Shadow tries to grab Midoriya while Sato brings up Eri. The girl Midoriya saved. Also one could say a bit of subtle emotional manipulation though not malicious. Bringing up the little girl that surely misses him. Yaoyarozu then ends up putting him in a chair. A chair with sedatives. A chair reminiscent of  a special chair in the high security prison Tartarus. The type of Asylum chair All for One has been bound to too and probably be sedated. Yaoyarozu also says that they are allowed to aid the other heroes with their quirks. Meaning they actually do not need to drag him back to UA. They could help him rest and make him eat in other ways. Support from a safe distance. A compromise really. That so far they maybe havent thought about. However Izuku breaks out of the chair. We then have Shoji, Kaminari and Tokoyami bind him with Shojis insulated tentacles and dark shadow. Probably trying to use Kaminari as human taser to take him out. Izuku escapes this. shoji asks if he sees them as victims that need protection. This feels more sincere then what bakugou said. Not the baggage attached. Not the projection. And yes. They are not defenseless. They are not weak. However they still are first years that never should have been involved in any kind of war. And against AFO well they would probably easily get dusted. A more supportive role would be fitting. Take out the villains around AFO.�� Now comes an important part. Danger sense has not been going off. Izuku claims that it would have gone off if he felt danger or malice emit from them. He understands that they are worried about him. But again he also understands that he is a big target. He was out the whole time and saw that AFO won’t just give them a break. That he will kill people. Danger sense not going off is a no brainer. Of course there is no malicious intent. Class 1A were/are his allies. They want what they think is best for him. However that doesnt make their opinion absolute. You can have good intentions but how you do it and how it ends up can still be a huge fiasco. Izuku needs rest. A bath. Food. A doctor. But UA just doesnt have the security. The past shows it. UA is a safe house filled with civilians. Izuku knows that AFO wont stop at the barricade. That while yes there are pro heroes and trained students. AFO is a natural disaster. He wouldn’t just give in. There is no sunk cost fallacy. AFO will try to get his claws onto him no matter how many assasins, nomu or otherwise he needs to send out. The chapter ends with Izuku being caught in Shotos ice wall. Shoto telling him that he should share his burden with them. Showing his character developement. Froppy tells him that she won’t weep anymore and that he matters to her and that they won’t let him do this alone. Overall this chapter was different than I expected. We didnt get an all out fight. We didnt get the “Snap” so far. Class 1A tried to get hold of him. They told him that he is important to them and how he helped them. How they do about things might not be all that helpful. He will not go back to UA willingly. He should not go back to UA. They still seem to lack so much context about his reasoning for things. They do not understand him. Them telling him how he helped them. How much he means to them is an interesting thing. A bit ago Hori said where the name “Deku” originates from. A well known poem Ame ni mo Makezu  by Kenji Miyazawa. The verse “minna ni deku-no-bō to yobare” or in english “Called useless by all”

Here we have the poem. A person that helps others without ever getting or wanting recognition. A person that is not special except to reach out to help. A person that is just doing the right thing. Endeavor got credit for Stain, Overhaul vs Izuku is not well known, Gentle criminal got defeated without recognition for Izuku. Hardly anyone knows it was him at the sludge villain incident and most pro heroes there scolded him for being the one to do the right thing. Dagobah beach. It´s not widely known he cleaned it. Izukus desire is to rescue and help people. He is not into it for money, fame, recognition, legacy. While he does have a legacy to All Might he is also his own person. He tried to show himself to the world at the sports festival but that was also on All Mights wish. He didnt succeed with that. He is known as the bone breaker and not the second coming of All Might. He is not self serving. He wants to be useful and not a bother. Someone seen as useless that still does his best. It shows. They do give him recognition in this chapter. Do praise him. But this is not what he wants. This is not what he does it for. He isn’t coerced in coming back thanks to that. While he of course needs positive reinforcement it doesnt seem to be such an active desire to him. It´s more important for him that he sees them safe. The first line of the poem “Unbeaten by the rain” might also have some importance. Maybe it is foreshadowing that he won’t be brought back by the class. Maybe he escapes or he shows and makes them understand why he he does things. Maybe they find a compromise. As we go back to look at the chapter once more. Four people are kinda lacking. Hagakure and Aoyama. Both theorised in the fandom to be the traitor. Maybe danger sense would have activated and that would have called them out. Maybe it will next chapter. Iida we only saw in one panel. And Uraraka is not there either except for one beginning panel. Those two are his first friends. People like to compare this to the kamino arc when the squad rescued Bakugou. People saying that Bakugou will reach out to Midoriya like back at the kidnapping. However. That was not the thing. Kirishima reached out his hand as Midoriya knew that even in a life and death situation Bakugou would never take his willingly. So yes it would make more sense that either Iida, Uraraka or even Todoroki hold their hand out or even all three together.Maybe thats why Uraraka and IIda were not really there. Maybe they have their big moment next chapter. I personally dont hope it´s Urarakas love confession. That really would feel a bit shallow to me and out of left field. Overall I did not dislike this chapter. There was not the big beatdown like some expected. However how they as a class go about it might not have the best result. I am interested in how it continues in the next chapter. I would prefer Class 1A supporting him by not dragging him back to UA. By helping him rest and take down villains that don’t need the person to have OFA to survive the encounter. Again this is an opinion. Not claimed to be the absolute truth but also not without some proof.

[bakubabes-tatakae]

Pairing: Kankuro x Reader

Summary: When Kankuro gets placed on a mission with the one Kunoichi he has been jealous of for years he gets a little taste of the way things really could be. 

A/N: This is piece one of two for my contribution to the Konoha Simps Server Collab. You can find the rest of the amazing works right here! 

Warnings: smut, angst, 18+ content, unprotected sex, jealousy, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

The anger that was radiating from the man with the purple face paint was enough to have everyone around him wondering what was wrong. It wasn’t often that Kankuro lost his cool, but it was times like these that made everyone remember that he was only human. He had always had anger toward one Kunoichi from the Village Hidden in the Leaves… and now here you were… about to embark on a mission together.

When Gaara had called him into his office he had thought that it was just another visit with his brother. He thought that until he walked in and saw the 6th Hokage of Konohagakure standing there with you by his side. He had always envied you. The way you seemed to have your life together, the way you got everything that you wanted, the way that you always succeeded. Kankuro wanted that for himself.

But little did he know that in the shadows things were much different. You weren’t as put together as everyone seemed to think that you were. You hid that very well. You were more nervous than you had ever been right now. You knew that Kankuro had never been fond of you so when Kakashi said that you were going to be going on a mission with him you were hesitant.

You had begged with Kakashi to change that… to make it so that you didn’t have to put yourself through that. You didn’t want to deal with the tension. You didn’t want to have to watch your back from not only the enemies that were around you, but from the person that you were working with.

Kakashi waved slightly to Kankuro as he made his way into the room and that signature smirk from under the mask filled his face. Kankuro waved back and walked to the end of his brother’s desk, leaning against it and crossing his arms. “What’s up Gaara? Why’d you call me here?”

Gaara cleared his throat and gave his brother an uplifting look. “I have a mission for you. I need my best man on it and that’s you.”

Kankuro raised an eyebrow and watched him with curiosity. “What am I going to be doing?”

Gaara knew that what he was about to say was going to do nothing but annoy his older brother so he waited a second before speaking. He watched Kankuro’s eyes dart from himself to Y/n in an instant.

You caught his stare as you looked up from the floor, you had been trying not to make eye contact this entire time. The last thing you wanted was the glares that you knew would come from him. Gaara slowly stood from his desk chair and walked to the front of the desk, leaning against it and next to his brother. “I need you and Y/n to go and search for something. I need you to head to Amegakure for me. That’s where you’ll find what I’m looking for.”

Kankura was hating how vague his brother was being, but he knew better than to question it. “Why do you need Y/n to come with me? What makes it so that we need her?”

This is the part that Gaara had been dreading telling him about and as he opened his mouth Kakashi spoke up, taking the heat off the Kazekage. “We need the two of you to act like a couple. We didn’t have anyone else that would be willing to do it that isn’t married or seeing someone.” He sighed. “And the only actual couples we have aren’t ranked high enough for this mission.”

Kakuro’s eyes grew wide at Kakashi’s words and so did your own. What were they thinking? Of all people to partner you up with they choose the one person that had never made it a secret that they disliked you. Did Kakashi think this was a joke?

You spoke up. “Lord Hokage… with all due respect I think this is a mistake.”

Kakashi crossed his arms and turned to you. “And why is that?”

You looked from Kankuro to Kakashi. “Can you not see how much he doesn’t want to do this? Everyone knows that he doesn’t like me. I don’t think that this is the best choice.”

Gaara raised a hand to stop you. “Kankuro has never expressed not liking you before.” Kankuro’s brows furrowed. “He’s just a little rough around the edges.”

A growl left the man as he gave his brother a threatening stare. “Whatever. I’ll do it.”

You weren’t sure whether you should be happy or worried that Kankuro had agreed to go on the mission, but you agreed as well.

* * * * * *

As the two of you walked to Amegakure you tried to make small talk, but everything that you said to the man was either ignored or shut down with one word answers. You had wanted him to say anything, even if it was something mean. Anything was better than the silence that surrounded the two of you. That’s when you decided that it was time to call it a night.

It had been hours since you had started walking. You had another couple hours walk, but neither of you had been prepared for a mission so you hadn’t slept for very long the night before. Kankuro kept his eyes on the small clearing that you had found and made sure that there were no enemies in the vicinity.

You lit a small fire and both sat around it, taking in the warmth as it hit your cheeks. But that silence never left. It only seemed to get worse as you sat there, neither of you looking at the other, only staring at the warm flames before you. You hated the tension.

Your voice was quiet as you attempted once again to shut down the silence. “Kankuro?”

He looked up at you and waited for you to speak.

“Can I ask you something?”

Kankuro softened a little. A weird feeling hit him as he watched the person that he had always seen as strong willed and lucky look like they were so vulnerable. “Yea. Go ahead.”

You took a deep breath, knowing very well that what you had to say could anger him even further. “How come you hate me?”

Those words leaving your lips made his heart ache. Kankuro had never wanted you to think that he hated you. He had always thought that he had, but spending the day with you despite keeping his cold exterior had made him realize that you weren’t as bad as he had thought. He had let all the rumors and other people’s opinions cloud his own. “I-” He tried to speak, but his words didn’t want to come out. Instead, Kankuro stood, his emotions filling him as he walked slowly toward you. His hand stretched out for your own and you stayed watching him, unsure whether or not to take it. But you did.

Kankuro helped you stand and once he had you on your feet he did something you had never thought would happen in your lifetime. The Shinobi from the sand cupped your face in his own and placed his lips to yours. Not only had it shocked you, but Kankuro had shocked himself.

When his lips pulled away from your own he spoke again. “I don’t hate you. I’ve always been jealous of you.”

Confusion painted your face as you heard what he said. “Jealous of what?”

Kankuro placed his finger over your lips to stop you from talking. “From the day that I met you you were so put together. You knew what you wanted in life and you took it. You got whatever you wanted because you did whatever you put your mind to. I just wish that I could be that way.”

You placed a hand on his cheek and smiled at him. “Trust me, Kankuro. My life isn’t as put together as you might think that it is. If anything I’m a mess. I just hide it well.”

Kankuro chuckled softly and wrapped you into his arms. “I’ve been so jealous this whole time that I’ve been ignoring these feelings that have been hiding in me all this time. I’ve wanted to tell you this, but my arrogance wouldn’t let me. My stubbornness tends to get in the way more than it helps me.”

You felt his arms wrap around you, resting on the top of your thighs and tugging. Your feet left the ground as you wrapped your legs around him, your back pushed against a tree as he roughly placed his lips to yours once more.

His hands wandered your body as he continued to use the tree as leverage. His lips traveling from your lips to your neck. You let your head drop against the bark behind you, taking in the feeling of his kisses against your skin.

It was almost involuntary as his name left you. “K-Kankuro.”

You could feel him smirk against your shoulder. “Say my name again. I love the way it sounds when you say it.”

You did as he told you. Once again letting his name fall from you as his hands tugged on the waist of your pants, pulling them down your legs with ease.

“What do you want me to do to you Angel?” His erection began to push on his pants, craving escape from their fabric prison.

“Touch me Kankuro.” The pure desperation in your tone made him want to absolutely ravish you.

He nearly ripped his own pants off, his length hitting your leg as he finally got them down. Kankuro slid his hand between your legs and rubbed at the panties that stood in his way, pushing them to the side and lining himself up with your entrance.

As he thrust forward the pure bliss that came from his entrance had your vision turning white. Each roll of his hips grew quicker and quicker by the second. He could barely contain himself. Kankuro couldn’t even remember the last time he had been with someone.

Your gentle noises that filled his ears told him that he was doing just the right thing. His grunts filled your own ears as you felt your walls closing in around him. The closer you got to your orgasm the louder his grunts became.

In a split second your cunt clenched around him, nearly suffocating him, causing him to let himself go. With one loud final grunt Kankuro unloaded himself inside you, painting your walls white with his seed.

And neither of you moved when it was over. You both say there, foreheads resting together, wondering what to do next.

Your comment made him chuckle as he watched you. “I’d say that was a success. I can’t feel my legs.”

Kankuro pressed his lips to yours again with a snicker. “Do you know how angry Gaara and Kakashi would be if they found out about this?”

You chuckled and placed a hand to his cheek, letting your hand slide down it. “Then why do they need to find out? It can be our little secret for now.”

Kankuro couldn’t help but let a smile spread on his face. “That’s a secret I’m willing to keep.”

Taglist: @monic00l​ @strangeinternetwasteland​ @rowley-with-ackerman​ @caothicsimptown @tachibrii​ @screechingtacobananaperson​ @kakashishan​ @dark-pinku​ @uchihacas​ @altogetherweathered​ @sparkleswritings​ @tiny93soo​ @korianrdr​

[rreeaahh]

Arms Tonite | draco malfoy

Arms Tonite - for @vogueweasley​ ‘s writing challenge (inspired by the song)

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader (ravenclaw)

words count: 10k - lyrics in italic

summary; your relationship with draco went from strangers, to lovers, to strangers again - but it broke the barrier between life and death.

warnings: the word “mudblood”; swearing; death eaters; voldemort; death of a character; some fluff; angst; kinda sad; slow burn; blood mention; (that’s all i could think of, please let me know if there are more!)

a/n: im so so so sorry if thats too long, my loves! i got carried away by this idea - i had it in my mind for so so long i used @vogueweasley 's writing challenge as motivation. again, congratulations mere! You're one of the first writers ive followed here, and I'm happy to see your blog growing❤️

 “Can I sit there?” you asked softly, embracing the pile of books to your chest. They were all for your Potions’ essay, where you really wanted to excel, only to prove Professor Snape what you were capable of.

Since the first year, Snape turned out to be a walking nightmare for all the students in the entire castle, especially for the ones who hadn’t a green tie around their neck. Being a Ravenclaw, the desire to know more was a normal thing for you: always asking questions and making assumptions only to gain more information made Snape grow a feeling of hatred towards you. He’d externalize that hate by giving you extra work, asking you questions you had no idea to answer, criticizing your skills in front of the class – basically, everything he could do to embarrass yourself and to show your classmates that you weren’t as smart as you wanted to introduce yourself.

“What?” the boy asked in confusion, his fingers squeezing the silver quill he was using to take notes from a booked that seemed to be about Transfiguration – a subject where you were at the top of the class, as Professor McGonagall told you proudly.

“I asked if I could stay here,” you repeated in a quiet voice, not wanting to disturb the rest of the people who were struggling with their work. “All the tables are taken and that’s my spot, usually,” you added when he frowned his brows, scanning the room.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said careless, going back to his piece of parchment. “That’s my spot usually, too, but I haven’t seen you here,” he whispered as you sat down, in front of him.

“I don’t think we share classes, so I think we don’t go to the library at the same time. But maybe it could be our spot from now on.” Your explanation made the blonde boy look away, his cheeks running paler while the skin of his neck, revealed by the crack of his unbottoned shirt, seemed to burn.

The silence fell on you two, the room being filled only with whispers and quills running their ink on the papers. You really had to impress Snape with that essay, you had enough of his comments and ugly looks – he was a great teacher, a very skilled person, but he had a horrible way to be human – that if he could be considered a human being. Deep down you feared Snape – his cold eyes, his fluttering cloak and his loud steps: all of that gave you goosebumps all over your body. Thinking of those you felt your breath tangling up in your throat, and the letters started to dance in front of your eyes. At first, you looked around the room, searching for the Weasley twins, but it wasn’t a prank: it was the stress which took control over your mind, playing tricks and messing with you. Your throat was dry, and every time you tried to swallow your saliva it felt like you had sand in your mouth. Your tablemate seemed to notice your discomfort, because he looked at you under his eyelashes, his right brow raising in confusion or annoyance.

“What are you doing?” he asked, now looking at you without any reservation.

“Hm?” you buzzed, making eye contact with him. You couldn’t figure out if he was surprised by your daring glare, or intimidated or amused – he only kept on looking into your eyes, not revealing any true emotion.

“You keep on swallowing and it looks like you’re drowning or something.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled politely, which made him go back to his work. But when you kept on acting like you couldn’t breathe, he dropped his quill on the table and look like you with frustration. “What?”

“You’re distracting me, obviously,” he rolled his eyes. “Some of us are trying to focus, so keep quiet or leave.”

It was very rude of him – in your opinion – to talk to you, a complete stranger, like he could give you orders; especially when you did nothing wrong.

“Me too,” you sighed, “It’s only that…” But you stopped in the middle of the sentence, reminding that you didn’t know who you were talking to, and he probably didn’t care.

“Only what?” he asked, making you look at him again. His face was blank – relaxed, like he was an emotionless metal can.

“I’m not that good with Potions, so I’m struggling a little bit,” you smiled with shame, not knowing exactly why you felt that way admitting you weren’t good at something.

“We all are struggling,” he said like it wasn’t a big deal, pointing to his Transfiguration book. “Some of us on simple things, I see,” he commented after he took a sight at the books you chose and the big title you wrote on the parchment.

“Then maybe we could help each other,” you proposed, smiling at him in a friendly nature. He didn’t seem to understand your idea, given the frowned brows and half eyes that were starring at you. “I’m good at Transfiguration, the best if we’re to follow McGonagall’s words, so I could help you if you help me with my Potions essay.”

He took a moment to think, looking back and forward to your books and his, to your parchments and his – yours were filled with paragraphs and his were decorated with meaningless drawings. “I only need some notes, it’s not fair to do your whole essay in exchange of some stupid phrases,” he said like you were trying to fool him.

You chuckled and leaned back on your chair. “Yeah, nothing’s free,” you smiled, “Ok, then I’ll write your notes and you’ll write me the main ideas – after that I’ll write it on my own.” He stayed thoughtful and quiet, looking at your face; you tried hard not to run your fingers to your cheek, searching for dirt or anything that had him starring. “Deal?” you asked.

He held out his hand in your direction. “Deal,” was his only response, waiting for you to conclude the pact. And you did – you gently shook his hand, the skin of his palm feeling smooth against your own, like he was using lots of lotion every night before going to bed. But it was a nice feeling, which led a wave of warmth all over your body along with a good premonition about how he’d do your homework and him, in general.

The two of you switched your belongings, the only item that wasn’t switch being the quills – he was holding his like it was the biggest treasure he ever had; and maybe it was, you thought. Maybe it had an emotional story and he wanted to keep the quill only because of the memories it hold, but maybe he was only careful with what belonged to him. You never really had anyone to help you with your work – when you were a child your parents encouraged you to keep on trying by yourself in order to succeed, and you grew up avoiding other’s help, only to prove them that you could do it alone. After a while, in your third year of Hogwarts, you wanted to be helped, but it seemed like your older housemates were too busy and the ones your age were looking for you to help them. So, to be in the library on a Friday afternoon, helped by a boy you never crossed paths with before seemed like a new – and somehow exciting – experience. It was nice to write on the parchments which had their edges and corners filled with something that seemed to be flowers or some kind of plant with curled leaves. You often asked him questions about what you should or shouldn’t write, and depending on his answer you’d write down more explicit notes, as he kept on commenting how many useless things you’ve wrote in your essay by far – but he was funny, telling you that you should give Snape the essay the way it is so maybe you all could be lucky and get rid of the sulky teacher sooner than expected.

After some time, they boy looked at the silver watch on his left wrist and put down the quill. “My study time’s over,” he announced and you also put down the writing instrument, handing him the papers you tried to write as eligible as you could. “That’s all?” he asked and scoffed.

“Actually, I have more things to add, but…” You tried to say, but he already began to gather his things, closing the Transfiguration book and folding the parchments. “We could meet tomorrow, or Sunday,” you proposed and also got up when he did. You tried to make eye contact with him one more time, not paying that much attention to the height difference between you two.

“Again?” he spoke, fulfilling your wish. His eyes were mesmerizing – such a light blue, reminding you of a sunny sky.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want – it would be beneficial for both of us to finish what we started.”

And he thought that way too, because the next day he was already in the same spot of the library, all by himself, trying to decipher the entangled letter you wrote the other day. “Maybe Snape doesn’t like you because of your handwriting,” he said when you sat down, making you smile and chuckle – an action that caused him to have a little smile in the corner of his lips, too. And those smiles continued to grow on your faces, because besides the theoretical information you two changed, there were also a little funny comment slipped through the conversation.

“See you tomorrow?” you asked while gathering your things, because that time you were the one who needed to leave earlier.

“I can’t,” he simply said. “I have to study.”

“Isn’t that the reason we met here today?” you laughed, “To study together?”

“No, we met today to finish our deal – which is pretty much done,” he explained in a plain voice, pointing to the pages in your hand. The structure of the essay was done; you only needed to put it all together and his Transfiguration notes were enough for him to understand better the subject.

“Oh,” you said in a whisper. “Yeah, right, thank you…” you smiled to him, whishing that he’d realize that you two never introduced each other properly, but he only returned the smile in a polite way.

“You’re welcome,” was all he said and went back to his book, trying to put head to head the theory you made and the information from the book.

That Saturday you left the library with a strange feeling of loneliness – he was a stranger, but he helped you concentrate and also helped you with something that – maybe – was the most important opportunity for you to shut Snape’s mouth. That day flew by without you even realizing, but at night you found yourself thinking about the boy who tapped his fingers on the wooden surface anytime he’d search for the right words but couldn’t stand a strange breathing near him, and a pair of iced eyes was present in your dreams, doing nothing more than watching you with all the possible emotions mirroring in them.

“How was your weekend by far, Hermione?” you asked the girl only to break the strange silence between you two. She was looking for a specific book, and it happened to bump into her when you came to the library to continue your work.

It was a few hours after lunch, on a sunny Sunday when most of the students preferred to study or to simply hang out in the courtyards, lying on the grass. It wasn’t very weird that you had to deal with all those stares when you went to the library on such a beautiful day. You weren’t a bookworm or a nerd, but it was a special thing and you really wanted to have it all done by the end of Monday at least, so you wouldn’t be loaded with other things.

“It was… acceptable,” she responded and shrugged, going back to look for that book on the selves. “As acceptable as it could be a weekend spend in the company of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley,” she continued and you laughed. She was the brain of that trio, and it might be stressful to be their friend – but you were pretty sure it wasn’t that horrible since she stayed by their side for so long. “What about you?” she returned the question, giving up on her searching as she couldn’t find the right book.

Hermione followed you to your usual table, situated in a corner of the room, where the rays of sun came through the wide window and lighted all the pages. You sat down, leaving aside the parchments for some moments of chatting with your friend. “It was… fun,” you smiled, “I was here two days in a row doing homework.”

Hermione laughed while flipping the pages gently. “And Ronald says I’m the one who needs to sort out her priorities.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes, “It was fun because I had a study buddy. It was really nice,” the explanation made the girl leave her book and watch you with sudden interest. You knew Hermione wasn’t the type who gossip, so her attention was pure curiosity.

“Who?”

“I don’t really know,” you sighed, a little disappointment in your voice as you looked at your fingers, which were unconsciously tapping on the table. “We never made a proper introduction.”

The Gryffindor girl played with the zipper of her hoodie, looking like he was trying to remember all the persons who ever entered that room. “How was he looking?”

Handsome was the first word you wanted to say, as a joke, but a discarded book landed on your table, right on top of your papers and made you looks at the person whose shadow was covering your face.

“What is she doing at our spot?”

“Malfoy,” Hermione growled with hatred, “I don’t think your father bought the tables in the entire library, too,” she said and made the boy look at her with as much venom as a snake could carry.

So he was Malfoy – the mean boy Hermione would mention from time to time, the one who’d always have a harsh word to tell Ron and the one who despised The Chosen One so much. Your timetable never interfered with their, and you’d usually spend your weekends and breaks with some classmates you were friends with, so you never really crossed path with that Malfoy boy. You knew about him, but you didn’t know him – not until then.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Mudblood; learn to speak only when spoken to,” he said in a mockery tone, his eyes going back to you.

You looked at him, and then at Hermione, who seemed to search in you something you couldn’t actually find. “Well?” he repeated, but there was no response from you.

“What does he mean, Y/N? Your spot?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end.

“He’s… my study buddy,” you spoke and Malfoy raised his brow at the appellative, while Hermione froze.

“I’ll leave you with your study buddy, then,” she whispered to you and left, not before taking the book that was thrown on the table by the Slytherin boy.

Your hand was shaking when you grabbed the quill, going back to finish the essay that you started to properly write last night in your dormitory. “Yeah, take my scrap, you filthy Mudblood,” he commented and watched Hermione leave. He then sat down, in front of you, slightly pushing away from him the chair were your friend sat some seconds ago. “Don’t tell me she’s following you around like a little puppy,” he laughed and you looked at him in confusion.

“She’s my friend,” you simply said.

The confusion was now on Malfoy’s face. “Friend?” he scoffed.

“Don’t you have friends?”

“Plenty,” he responded quickly. “But my friends have my back when I’m in an argument.”

You shrugged and looked down again to your essay. “I’m a neutral person, I’m not picking sides,” you explained. He watched you write without any other interruption, but you were feeling weird to be aware of his presence in your perimeter and being as talkative as a fish. “What are you doing here?” you asked as you wrote your name at the bottom of the last paper. He quickly grabbed them all, smiling at your expression.

“I made some free time to come and read our final product.” He went back to be silent, his blue eyes running from left to right in order to read all the things you wrote more calligraphic, only thinking about his comment and about the nice letters he used to make the summary yesterday. “It’s good,” he said proudly, like it was his own.

“Really?” you asked shyly, not ready to have a criticism on that yet.

“Yes, I see you kept some of my phraseology,” he smiled in a kind way, returning the parchments to you.

“It was really well structured,” you laughed and ran a hand through your hair, blushing when you saw him starring intensely at your face – you really wanted to ask him if there was something on your face.

“It’s perfect, Y/N,” he repeated, “Snape can’t say otherwise. It’s nearly as good as mine are,” he assured you. His response made you laugh loudly, gaining some hissing from Madam Pince; your hands went to your mouth, covering it, and the boy looked at you with amusement.

“Thank you, Malfoy,” you whispered, scared to talk even in a quiet way. You knew how much the librarian hated the loud students, and you really didn’t want to be one of them. To be on her blacklist was something no one really wanted.

“Call me Draco,” he asked and got up. “I have to go, but I’m sure your work will be appreciated tomorrow.”

“It’s for Friday, actually.”

“So you had a week to do it, but you did it right away?” he laughed this time, but he seemed careless at Madam’s Pince hiss.

“What?” you pouted, already annoyed by his laugh. You knew what he was going to say, and it made you somehow ashamed.

“Nothing,” he said to your surprise, “It’s just that… I’ve never seen somebody to be that ambitious when it comes about school.”

“So you don’t make fun of me,” you thought out loud, making him chuckle again.

“Why would I make fun of you for being a determined person?” he asked and you returned his smile, more shyly, and waved him goodbye as you saw him walking away.

It was the last moment when you saw Draco Malfoy – Monday morning you looked for him in the Great Hall at breakfast, lunch, dinner and even after classes – but due to the large amount of students, he was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t put a foot in the library, because you stayed there awhile, doing your homework or reading – more like pretending to do any of those – but he never came. It was like he was swallowed by a big black hole and forgotten by all the people in Hogwarts. Nobody near you mentioned his name, and you didn’t dare to ask Hermione about him after the ‘study buddy’ situation. She said it was all fine between you two, because she knew about your neutral personality. It was simple: you never got into fights yourself or got involved when other people would argue – it was simple that way. You asked her if she was alright after Draco said all those things to her, of course, but when she told you it was alright you didn’t insisted more.

Friday came faster than you had thought and you were quite nervous to hand Snape your essay. All your classmates wished you good luck, even if they were in the exact same situation as you were – not quite the same, actually, because you were the only one asked to stay over class so the Potions Master could have a word with you.

“You wanted to talk to me, Professor?” you asked when the rest of the students left you all alone with Snape, who sat in the front of the class, hands crossed over his chest and a frowned look on his face.

“Obvious,” he spoke in his monotone voice, coming closer to your desk. “What is this, Miss L/N?” he asked, throwing in front of you the essay, all the pages spreading on the table.

“My essay, Sir,” you told him confident, already preparing your speech about how hard you worked on it and how he couldn’t say it was a piece of trash.

“Your essay?” he asked serious, and then he faked a laugh. “I think you mean Mister’s Malfoy essay,” he then handed you another parchment, with Draco’s name on it, neatly written.

You read a few phrases from his work, but there was nothing alike between them aside some expressions – the ones Draco observed you kept from his notes. “I didn’t steal his work, Sir,” you said in a quiet voice, not daring to look him in the eyes. You didn’t need to do that to know how mad he was.

“You didn’t steal it, you copied it.”

“No, I…” but he already made up his mind. He asked you to leave, informing you that you’d get more work to do, along with a week of detention.

Your blood was boiling and you only wanted to scream how much you hated everything: how much you hated Snape, for being a prick, how much you hated yourself, for not being able to do your own homework alone and how much you hated Draco, for ‘helping’ you and then disappearing – but he didn’t disappear, because he was in the end of the corridor, all by himself, his hands on his trousers’ pockets, standing in an elegant posture leaning on the wall. The dark always present on the Dungeons made him look paler that he seemed in the library’s sunrays, but the blue of his eyes was still remembering you of the clear sky in the moment he heard your steps.

“Y/N,” he greeted you from afar, a little smile growing on the corner of his lips. “How was…” but you didn’t give him the occasion to finish his sentence, leaving the dark corridor in a hurry.

It was odd that after a week of thinking only about him, about the blue of his eyes, about the way his voice would seem lighter when he was holding back his laugh, about the cute way he’d smile only a half of joy, you ran away from his presence like he was your worst nightmare when, in fact, he was present in your sweetest dreams.

It was your desire to be alone the one which made you isolate yourself in your room for some good hours, crying and hitting the pillows, throwing them in the walls and then gathering them, only to throw them again. You felt the way Snape’d describe your skills, work or everything you did: trash – you felt like trash. You thought about going to dinner with your housemates when you heard them leaving the Common Room, but you realized that Snape’s face, eating at the teachers’ table would’ve turned your stomach upside down. So you stayed there for another hour, thinking about everything and nothing in particular; you just knew that you were sick of it, sick of everything and you just needed a break.

And that’s what you did: you took a break. You left the dormitory only undressing yourself from the blue robes and went running on the empty corridors. When you left, you weren’t sure where you’d go – but you found yourself in the Astronomy Tower, watching the entire yard and the environs of the castle. The sky was painted in pastel colors, the sun bathing in the red color of the lake. It was beautiful and you wanted nothing than to be the same with all of it.

“I hate it all!” you screamed looking up to the sky, closing your eyes. “I hate Severus Snape!” you screamed again, opening your eyes and looking down. It was a long, long way to the bottom, where the cobbled paths would wait. “I hate that he managed to make me feel so useless,” now you whispered, tightening the metal balustrade between your palm until they became white. You shook the metal as hard as you could, but it stood still; the effort left you breathless, but you still managed to scream from the bottom of your lungs: “I hate myself!”

You had no idea where that came from – it was the first time you thought that way about you, but it felt very honest. You hated how much pressure you’ve put on your shoulders and now that you were too weak to carry it all, you felt worthless. The only thing you knew was that you were crying, so hard that your sobs didn’t let you hear the steps approaching you in such a hurry. The force of the hand that grabbed your elbow was unexpected, making you stumble on your own legs. The warm feeling immediately invaded your whole body as soon as you fell in a pair of arms, which were holding you hard enough not to fall to the ground.

“What the hell were you doing, Y/N?!” he screamed, the image of his face being blurred because of the tears in your eyes. You blinked a few times and there he was: Draco Malfoy, with a worried look on his face but with the same beautiful blue eyes.

“Draco…” you whispered and grabbed the material of his white shirt, “What are you doing here?” you managed to ask without your voice cracking.

“You didn’t come to dinner, and after the way you walk away from earlier…” he said and became paler, “But what were you doing? Don’t tell me you tried to…”

But you shook your head in negation faster than the words he said. “No, of course not,” you said trying to convince yourself more than him. “I was just… having a moment,” you explained and withdrew from his arms, hugging yourself to calm down.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asked again and touched your shoulders, his hands burning the skin under your uniform shirt.

“Snape said I copied your essay,” you succeed to whisper after a long silence, the tears coming back into your eyes.

His brows went lower, his mouth in a line. “Have you told him that I helped you?”

“No,” you said, now crying again. He wiped away a tear that rolled on your cheek. “He told me to leave before I could say anything, and now I have detention a whole week.”

“Sh, sh, sh,” he hummed as he pulled you back into his arms, one of his hands laying on your back as the other one was caressing your hair. “You don’t need to cry,” he spoke gently and his movements became clumsy as you cried even harder. “I’ll take care of it, Y/N,” he assured you and suddenly, your tears dried up.

“What?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“I… I’ll talk to Snape about it,” he repeated, “It’s not fair to act that way towards you when your essay was so good.”

All the parts of your body were screaming to kiss him only because he was that near to you. But you were too puzzled up to even hear those screams in your head. “You’ll get in trouble too, Draco.”

“No,” he smiled. “Let’s say that Snape owns my father one,” he smiled devilish, and contrary his expectations you smiled like you haven’t been crying until then.

“But why are you doing that?” you laughed and tried not to freak out because he was still holding you.

“So you could own me one later,” he continued to smile even after you hit them slightly in chest. “What? Nothing’s free, remember?”

You bit your cheek, trying to hold back a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“So we have a deal?”

“No,” you said and raised a brow. “We have a deal only if you don’t get yourself in trouble by talking to Snape or, even worst, getting me into a bigger mess. You need to succeed in order to have a deal.”

“That sounds like a deal to me,” he smirked and ran a hand through his blonde hair, which seemed more like gray in the light given by the moon.

“We have a deal, then,” you laughed and tighten up a bit the grip on his shirt.

“Don’t ever stay that close to the edge again,” he asked you and you could see the same feeling of anxiety on his face. You nodded your head in agreement and he hugged you again. “You scared the shit out of me,” he confessed.

It was the first time in your life when you felt that somebody was truly worried about you. Your parents would’ve just watch you break down and then get up and try again, telling you that it’s the normal way to educate yourself. But that night, in his arms, you felt that you weren’t the same lonely child. It was a warm feeling, a feeling of a new burning in your heart. And it was a nice feeling.

  I fell in your arms tonight / I fell hard in your arms tonight / It was nice

 You agreed to meet Draco the next day in the Astronomy Tower half an hour before the dinner would finish and you were surprised to see him already there, welcoming you with the same somehow evil smirk he had the other day.

“You own me one,” he said without even waiting for you to say something. “Snape told me he’ll forget about the detention, but you need to make some rephrasing on your essay.” He was proud of his manipulative skills and you could see it in his eyes – there was a little sparkle as you approached him.

“Good job, Draco,” you said smiling from an ear to the other. “I guess I own you one.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

You look over the skyline and went closer to the balustrade, Draco following you closely even after you sat down on the stone floor, your legs hanging on the outside. You seemed to be secure enough, so Draco sat down and looked at the sunset as well.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did,” he puffed and you punched his shoulder, smiling.

“You’re an idiot, you know what I mean.”

“Why am I an idiot?” he asked and turned to face you with an ugly look.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” you told him quickly. “I call my friends that way when they say something dumb but they’re funny at the same time,” you explained, ashamed that you offended him.

He was silent for a moment and looked at the lake again. “My father uses that term to talk about incompetent people,” he said and you looked away from his face.

“I guess it’s a way to use it, too,” you spoke shy.

“Why do you want to ask me?” he changed the subject, removing the awkward tension between you two.

“Why did you called Hermione Granger that word?” you asked cautious not to upset him with your curiosity.

“That’s what she is,” he said nonchalantly, “She’s a Mudblood, and she is inferior to us.”

“Only because of her blood?” you laughed. “And how do you know I’m not inferior to you too?”

“I made my research on you before talking to you again,” he shrugged.

“She’s superior to both of us in many ways, Draco,” you told him and looked at him in the moment he did the same. “She lives in another world at the same time she lives in this one,” you explained, “We were born surrounded by magic and that’s our only way of living.”

He lour. “Why do you say that?”

“I take the Muggle Studies class,” you smiled proudly.

“Why would you do that?” he scoffed. If you ignored his mentality on that subject, you could say he was really cute.

“It’s interesting,” you started. “They have many objects we have no idea about and they have fairy tales about anything – they’re kind of superstitious.”

“Superstitious?” he asked like he was curious and not like he wanted to mock you.

“Yeah,” you said and got up. “Maybe I’ll tell you about some superstitions one day.”

“Tomorrow night,” he asked you and got up as well.

“You want to know more about Muggles?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “It’s your chance to prove me they’re not inferior to us.”

“Ok,” you smiled and took the challenge.

You left the Tower walking by his side, and your heart skipped a beat when you realized that he walked you to your Common Room door, wishing you a goodnight. The next day Professor Snape wanted to talk to you again after class, this time apologizing for the way he managed the situation, but you could tell he wasn’t very pleased with what he was saying. When the dinner was nearly finished, you could see Draco leaving the Great Hall without looking in your direction and you knew it was the signal to get up and do the same thing after some minutes. You thought it’d be better if nobody would know where you were going and with who.

“Ready to learn about Muggles?” you asked him with joy as soon as you got in the highest place in Hogwarts.

“Whatever,” he laughed and rolled his eyes.

You brought a book you got last year on your birthday from Hermione, a book about a lot of things the Muggles believe in. You read out loud some pages and Draco only sat next to you, listening. It was somehow therapeutic to read in front of him because he didn’t disturb you, he even looked like he was enjoying it.

“So they even have a specific flower for when somebody dies?” he asked out of a sudden. He was really paying attention.

“Yeah, in some countries,” you smiled. “In Italy, France or Belgium – where it’s made the best chocolate – the white chrysanthemum is well known to be brought at somebody’s funeral. But they also represent loyalty and devoted love, so I think it makes it even more beautiful. They’re my favorites,” you smiled.

“A flower that represents the death is your favorite?” he laughed, making you roll your eyes. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ve never seen a chrysanthemum, and that’s something, considering the fact that my mother has a gigantic garden.”

He was often talking about his mother and you deducted that he’s a mummy boy – it was cute to know that he loved his mother dearly.

“I would love to see it,” you smiled politely.

“Maybe you will,” he said and caught you by surprise. “I mean, maybe you’ll see a garden as big as my mother’s,” he clarified when he observed those big eyes of yours.

“Yeah,” you said in a quiet voice, looking back into your book.

“What?” he asked and you didn’t respond him.

You were… sad? Disappointed? It was a strange and groundless feeling given by the idea that you’ll never see the garden of his house, and that also meant that you’ll never meet his mother, who was already painted in your mind like an elegant and kind woman.

“Are you upset?” he asked again and grabbed your jaw carefully, making you form eye contact.

“No,” you said simply, and the honesty in your voice surprised you. It was like all the hard feelings were erased by his eyes, by their calming color.

“Good,” he smiled, “Because you shouldn’t be upset.”

“Why?” you asked.

“I’ll bring you all the flowers from my mother’s garden if you’re not upset,” he traced his fingers up to your cheek, placing a strand of hair behind your red ear – all your emotions ran to your head, making the skin he touched burn.

“Why?” you asked again like a curious kid.

He rolled his eyes in a playful way, trying to pretend he was tired of your whys. “Because a pretty face like yours shouldn’t frown. You’ll get wrinkles,” he laughed and pinched your nose.

“Auch,” you hissed, massaging the end of your nose. “You say I’m pretty?”

“I say it’s time to get you back to your Common Room,” he nodded his head and got up, offering you his hand to help you get up.

The walk to the Ravenclaw’s door was silent, and when you got there it was an even more annoying silence. He only watched you like he was waiting for your next move.

“Uh, I can’t come tomorrow night,” you informed him. “I have to help my roommate study for Transfiguration.”

“So she’s stealing my study buddy,” he joked.

“I’ll see you around, though?”

“Yeah, of course,” he smiled and you just wanted to kiss that little dimple of his.

So you did – you got up to your toes and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Draco,” you smiled and entered the empty room, all your housemates already being off to their dormitories, probably. Your heart was pouting hard, like it was trying to escape the little cage of your ribs, but your soul was feeling warm and sweet, like honey.

The next day you tried to focus in all your classes, you tried to pay attention to your friends but all you could think of was Draco Malfoy, with his blue eyes and sweet dimple. It was a boring night the one you spent in your room, listening and explaining to your roommate simple things about your Transfiguration class, the same ones that Draco found difficult – even that made you think about him. It was a great relief to walk again on the stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, the excitement making your heart jump with joy. It dropped to the bottom of your soul when you didn’t find him there, and it broke when he didn’t come at all.

Maybe you scared him – maybe he didn’t want you to kiss his cheek, maybe he didn’t want you so close to him. Maybe you screwed it up. And you really believed that when he didn’t come two nights in a row, making you to skip dinner on the third night. You didn’t have the power to cry again, but you really wanted to – you nearly managed to get a tear out of you if it wouldn’t be eagle owl which entered your room through the open window.

“What’s up with you, stupid bird?” you asked in anger, making the owl give you a response in the same tonality. “Easy,” you spoke as you took the little parchment from its claw.

‘You didn’t come to dinner, are you sick? If you are, take a good sleep and get better. — D.M'

You crumbled the little letter and thrown it away telling the bird to leave you alone. You walked from left to right, biting your nails out of anxiety and anger – who was he to ignore you three days and then ask to meet you? You grabbed the letter from the floor and read it again, and the curiosity won against your anger. You grabbed a blue sweater and ran to the Astronomy Tower, but walked the steps so he wouldn’t know the speed with which you came. You were furious at him – you couldn’t wait to scream at him and tell him to fuck off with his unhealthy behaviors, but when you saw him leaning on the stone wall in front of you with a bouquet of white flowers in his hand and a small box on the other one, you just froze on the last step.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted you with a smile on the corner of his lips. You approached him slowly; your eyes going from his face go his hands and back to his hands. “I see you’re not sick,” he said when you were in front of him. “Why haven’t you come to dinner?”

“Why didn’t you give me a sign of living?” you asked straight, searching for his eyes.

“I was… busy,” he said and cleared his throat. “But I asked my mother to get me those,” he smiled and handed you the bouquet of chrysanthemums and the little box. “Open it,” he asked impatient.

You undone the little bow and opened it with one hand, the other holding carefully the flowers. Your hands were shaking. “Chocolate,” you laughed nervous.

“From Belgium, just like the flowers,” he said proud, smiling. “Don’t you like them?” he asked a little panicked when you didn’t say a thing, only watching the flowers in such an examining way.

“I love them!” you said, “I love them, Draco,” you assured them, holding them to your chest like you were scared he’d get them back.

“Good, I hoped you’d say that.”

You smelt them, and your whole soul was dancing – the sweet smell reminded you of the late autumn’s rains, of the lazy sunrays and all the nice skies in the world.

“I love them Draco, but what’s the occasion?”

He massaged the back of his head, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t need a reason to get flowers, Y/N. You deserve them anytime,” he said and your heart exploded at his cuteness. “My mother told me it’d be nice if I would give them to you before anything else,” he said and bite his lower lip immediately after, like he said something he didn’t mean to.

“Before what, Draco?” you asked curious. He was so good at making you all set on fire, unfocused and yet so, so concentrated on him.

“You’re a nice girl, Y/N, really nice,” he said in a quiet voice. His tonality made you thought about a break-up – like he wanted to break the bond that began to form between you two.

“What are you trying to tell me, Draco?” you asked in a harsh tone. “Just say it, ok? You don’t need to bring me flowers and chocolate if you want to say goodbye, it’s not like I’m dying,” you said pointing to the chrysanthemums.

“No, no, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “The white chrysanthemums represent loyalty and devoted love,” he whispered.

“Oh,” was all you could say. “Oh,” you repeated when you figured out what he really meant.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, and you laughed along with him. The sound of his laugh made your heart put itself back together. “So…” he started and came closer to you.

“So?” you said, biting your lips and blinking slowly.

“So may I kiss you, Y/N?” he asked in such a kind voice, all your body going soft at his words. His mother must’ve taught him how to talk to a girl – and she did such a good job.

You nodded shyly and let yourself carried by his hands, which dragged your body closer to his. He gently pressed his lips on your, letting them stay together for a couple of seconds and then retiring. His blue eyes were looking into yours, burning with desire and impatience. Your hands tightened the flowers and the little box harder, and you put them around his neck, getting him even closer to you and smashing your lips back together. His hands were on your waist, grabbing the material of your sweater between his fingers. Your eyes were closed and your body was filled with warmth – you saw nothing and yet, somehow, you were aware of everything in the Universe through a white light.

 White light in your arms tonight / I lost sight in your arms tonight / It was nice

 The next months were full of love and laughs for you – Draco was the most careful boy you’ve ever been with. He still wanted you two to have secret little dates in the Astronomy Tower, where you’d read to him about Muggles and poetry written by them.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute that I listen to you reading about that non-sense?” he asked once.

“It’s poetry, Draco,” you scoffed, “It’s about love!”

Besides the secret dates, he really wanted to go public. He was the type to show you off in front of everyone, only to make sure that every other boys knew that you were off their league but in a kind way – he’d kiss your forehead on the hallways, walk you to classes even if that meant he’d be late to his and gave you endless gifts. You received a lot of chrysanthemums, love letters and sweets anytime his mother would send him a package. Your roommates were jealous of you even if they told you directly that they didn’t like Draco and there was nothing to do about it. Hermione wasn’t so happy either and somehow distanced herself from you when she found out about your relationship, but Draco made you to forget all those things – he was the bad guy in everyone’s story, and even if some time ago he wasn’t even a side-character in yours, he became the climax of your story. You didn’t love Draco for his gift, you loved him truly – you loved him for the kind words, the warm glares, the sweet kisses and the tight hugs. And you knew he loved you too, because he made you feel safe in the whole madness with the Dark Lord and the war everyone was talking about.

“Do you think there’ll be a war, Draco?” you asked one night when you two where curled up into each other’s arms.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said absent.

“I heard that Harry’s forming an army,” you said and looked up to him, only to see him rolling his eyes.

“Potter isn’t capable to tie his own laces, my love, and you think he’s able to lead an army?” he laughed and that made you roll your eyes. “You’re funny.”

“But you’re the only one taking it as a joke, you’re the one who’s laughing,” you said and he frowned.

“Then I think I have to change that,” he said and his fingers came to your ribs, tickling you.

You started to laugh hard, to fight so you could escape his torture, begging him to stop. “Draco, that’s enough!” you screamed as you felt tears in your eyes, so you grabbed his arm and tried to scratch him playfully to make him stop.

Hissing, he let you go and pulled away from you, his hand over the left arm.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you asked worried that you hurt him.

“Nothing,” he said in an annoyed voice, getting up on his feet and looking down to you. “I’m fine,” he said and something in your mind clicked. For more than two weeks he’d say that stupid phrase whenever you asked him what happened – he seemed tired and anxious, but whenever you’d ask about him he’d become fine.

“Don’t try to fool me, Draco,” you said annoyed as well and, already on your feet, you’d try to grab his hand and reveal the possible wound.

“I said I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated and avoided your hands like they’d burn him.

“And I said to stop fooling me!” you shouted and sneaked close enough to him to get his hand away from his arm, but he pushed you harder than he thought – you fell on the ground, a piece of material in your hand; his sleeve – ripped, revealing red lines, scratches – who were older, but reopened by your nails – which were covering the worst thing you could think of: the Dark Mark. The air left your lungs and your head started to spin, the vision becoming blurred.

“Y/N…” he tried to say, coming closer to you but you crawled away.

“What the fuck, Draco?!” you screamed and got up by yourself. “Stay away!” you said when he tried to approach you.

“I can explain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking.

“How on earth you could explain the Dark Mark on your arm?” you shouted again, your hands running in your hair and pulling it.

“Sh,” he said loud, asking you to be quiet. “It’s not what it looks like, my love, I swear.”

You laughed – loud, nervous. “Then what it is?”

“They made me do it, Y/N!”

“They made you get the Dark Mark, become a fucking Death Eater and join Voldemort?” you screamed again and step back when he tried to come closer.

“My father, he… I didn’t want to, Y/N,” he said quietly, his eyes starting to get wet.

“You lied to me, Draco,” you whispered. “You said everything will be fine, you said you’ll protect me!”

“And I will!” he also screamed. “I will,” he repeated breathing heavily.

“How? Making me join the Death Eaters so they wouldn’t kill me later?” you mocked him, and you could say it hurt him to see you that way – but you didn’t care.

“Nobody will kill you, Y/N,” he said, trying to calm you. “You’ll be fine, we’ll be fine.”

“A war is coming, Draco,” you said harshly, “The Dark Lord is alive and back and anyone who’s against him is in danger.”

“You’re not in danger, Y/N,” he repeated. “We’re in this together, please, love,” he begged you, tears running down his face.

“We’re not on the same side, Draco,” you whispered.

“I thought you didn’t like to pick sides,” he said like he was trying to make you change your mind.

“We’re talking about a war, Draco, not a fucking fight in the courtyard,” you said and shook your head. “Just… leave me alone, please,” you asked him and started to walk away.

“Y/N, please!” he grabbed your wrist but you pulled away immediately.

“Don’t touch me ever again, Draco Malfoy,” you said in hatred, giving him a disgusted look before leaving him alone in the Astronomy Tower – alone, hurt and crying. He saw the disgust in your eyes, the hate and the fear.

Hard times came for you – you decided to act like nothing was happening, like you had no idea what Draco was and a part of you felt miserable for doing so, but other part was believing him, the other part was still loving him and it was hurting to see him and not run in his arms. You decided to let the time pass and decide what would happen with everything – but the time was cruel, because nothing good happened since that night. Dumbledore’s death, the Death Eaters, the continuing agony. You became scared to stay alone, thinking that a Death Eater or even Voldemort would show up and kill you – and Draco wouldn’t be there to protect you.

But when the real battle began, you felt all the adrenaline rushing through your body – Professor McGonagall seemed worried but she gave you the power to fight back, to fight for Hogwarts, for your friends, for Harry, for life. You never tried to spell hexes because it wasn’t necessary, but in the battles you had with some Death Eaters you remembered them all – and you casted them loud, pointing your wand in their direction with hatred. You were running on the same old stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, a loud and crazy laugh following you along with a curly hair and dark, mad eyes, thirsty for blood.

“Stop running, little doll!” she screamed when you got up, waiting for her with your wand ready, something that made her laugh. “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” she asked and walked closer to you with tangled steps.

“Crazy one, aren’t you?” you managed to gather your nerve to ask her. She didn’t seem too happy with your comment, because she lifted her wand – before she’d say anything, you screamed the Disarming Charm as loud as you could, making her wand fly from her hand and fall to the ground.

“Well, well,” she laughed, running her tongue over her bloody lips. “You won, now kill me!” she laughed, the sound driving you crazy.

“Shut up! Just shut up!”

“Kill me!”

“Crucio!” you screamed and the green light flashed from the tip of your wand, hitting Bellatrix Lestrange in the middle of her chest. She fell to the ground, laughing – it was hurting, but Bellatrix have been insane for a long, long time.

“Y/N!”

“Draco?” you said to yourself, watching the boy you loved running to you. He grabbed your shoulders, looking at you from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you alright? Did she hurt you?”

You looked at Bellatrix who was still to the ground, and you tighten your fingers around the wand.

“No,” you said and looked back to Draco. He seemed fine and a part of you wanted to scream that he was fine because he was one of them, they wouldn’t hurt him like that crazy woman tried to do to you, but the other part won that battle. You hugged him tight, wanting to make all the things disappear and be just you and him. “I’m scared, Draco,” you whispered.

“You’ll be fine, love,” he said and kissed your temple.

“So she’s the little doll that got you all soft, Draco?”

The fear ran through your body again and you pulled away from Draco, still holding his hands.

“Please,” he said and looked at the crazy woman who got her wand back. He let go of your hand and grabbed his wand, pointing it to her.

“Aw, Draco darling,” she laughed, “Does Cissy know that you’re pointing your want to your family?”Family?

“Aunt Bella, please, don’t hurt her,” Draco breathed heavily, not taking his eyes off of her.

“But she hurt me, Draco,” Bellatrix laughed, got her wand in your direction and casted an unspoken spell, only saying your name.

Draco tried to protect you, getting in front of you, but the purple light went through him and entered your body. The pain was indescribable, like all your internal organs were stabbed with hundred of knives. “No!” he screamed at his aunt, who only laughed louder and waved him goodbye before disappearing into a black cloud of smoke.

You’d feel your members go numb, dropping your wand and falling to the ground, making Draco to scream again like he could physically feel your agony. “Y/N!” he screamed.

Some balls of light were thrown in the tower’s direction, by the people outside, and they made the windows in the roof break, falling upon you along with pieces of tiles. Your sight went blurry, seeing Draco through red spots. “What’s happening, Draco?” you managed to ask him.

“You’re fine, my love,” he cried, tightening your shoulders, trying to hug you without hurting you.

“I can’t see you, hear you,” you cried and coughed; he started to sob even harder, watching the blood drop from your eyes and mouth as you tried to breathe. “I don’t feel very good,” you told him as it weren’t obvious.

“You’ll be alright, my love, stay with me,” he begged you.

His tears were falling on your face, mixing with the blood that was leaving your body – Bellatrix Lestrange chose a curse that gave you a slow and painful death.

“Hey, you,” you said, trying to make him pay attention to you. You looked him in the eyes, trying hard to see them clear. “Don’t you think it’s kinda cute?”

“What?” he whispered.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute,” you repeated, “That I died right inside your arms tonight?”

“No! No! No!” he said, his voice shaking. “Don’t you dare to do this to me, Y/N! Do you hear me? Stay with me!”

But you were gone – you left that world with a little smile on your lips, with bloody tears on your face and with the memory of his eyes watching you, of his arms holding you. And that made death a less painful thing for you.

 That I'm fine even after I have died / Because it was in your arms I died

 “No, Y/N!” he screamed, realizing you were gone. “Come back! Come back, Y/N, you own me one!”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you whispered while watching him from behind – you could also see your lifeless body, laying on the ground with glass pieces, rocks and blood all over it and it made  you cry. You floated over your body and tried the stupidest thing you could think of: going back inside. But it was impossible – it felt like it was locked. Bloody tears were falling from your eyes, and you damned Bellatrix Lestrange for giving you such an ugly death: you’ll cry blood for eternity on the Hogwarts’ halls as a ghost. “I want to come back, Draco!” you screamed at the same time when he asked you to come back.

 I cry in the afterlife / I cry hard because I have died / And you're alive / I try to escape the afterlife / I try hard to get back inside / Your arms tonight

 The battle was over: Lord Voldemort was now dead, Bellatrix Lestrange was dead along with other Death Eaters, but so were a lot of innocent people: now, some students would stay forever in the castle because they chose to remain behind; they, just like you, were too scared of death and chose an imitation of life. As a ghost, you didn’t really felt like showing to everyone; it hurt you enough to know they missed you, and to see their broken souls when they’d realize you’re trapped in this world as a ghost would be more painful than your death. You knew nothing about Draco for a long time – you stayed in the tower all the time, and you already knew that after some years, when the school would be rebuilt, the little kids would call you the ghost of the Astronomy Tower – that thought made you smile; maybe they’d call you Bloody Y/N, or Bloody Crybaby Y/N, or… whatever name would fit a blood-crying ghost. That’s how you spent many months – thinking, crying, whishing you’d have chose the death.

A loud cry woke you up one day – you looked over to the balustrade, where a tall figure was shaking while looking down, down all the way to the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said and you recognized him easily. “I’m so fucking sorry, my love,” he cried again and you approached him. On the ground, at his feet, was a bouquet of white chrysanthemums – they made your eyes tear up immediately.

“I promised you I’d protect you and I failed,” he whispered. “I hate myself since that day, my love,” he confessed.

To let him know about your presence was a bad idea – he’d be devastated to see you that way.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he spoke to himself, or so he thought because he jumped in surprise when you screamed.

“Wait!”

“Y/N…” he cried, now facing you and crying harder. “You’re… alive?”

“Draco…” you sighed, “What are you doing here?”

He came closer and tried to hug you, but his arms went through you with ease. “You’re… a ghost.”

“Please don’t jump,” you said crying harder than him. It was a horrible image, indeed, to see a blood-crying ghost – but he was in love with you.

“I miss you, Y/N, I want to be with you,” he told you like he asked for permission.

But you shook your head in disapproval. “You won’t like it here, darling,” you smiled. “Please, stay – be happy and live.”

“I love you, Y/N, how could I live without you?” he cried like a little child, helpless.

You pointed to the flowers. “If your love is devoted, you’d spend the rest of your life fulfilling my wish, Draco.”

“Y/N…”

“Stay alive, Draco. I’ll be here, always,” you promised and cried.

He ran his hands through his hair, his blue eyes crying you a river. When he calmed down, he bent over and grabbed the flowers, handing them to you. You cried in pain, but still tried to get them – and you where surprised when you could.

“Come back to me, Y/N,” he said and you tried your best to make his wish come true. You tried to hug him, to kiss his forehead – he could swear he felt your cold skin on his.

“I wish I could, my love,” you said and stayed in front of him, with the sign of his devoted love in your hand.

 And hey (hey), you (you), don't you think it's kinda cute / That I (I) try (try) to escape the afterlife / That I (I) try (try) to get back in your arms alive / That I died in your arms