#i won’t lie I’ll probably have to come home to see all the celebrations

[yellobb]

I’ve lived near a major U.S. historical site my entire life. I’ve driven through it hundreds if not thousands of times. I was also today years old when I found out that the roads look the way they do because it’s supposed to mimic the look of a dirt road

[kueble]

I Just Need You By My Side, Cause I'm Warmer in the Winter With You

Another very self-indulgent Christmas fic.

Teen. Warnings: Mentions of torture. 5,600 words.

Ghost/Soap

---

“Shouldn’t you be packing up?” Ghost asks him from where he leans against his doorway. Soap shrugs and sets down the pencil in his hand. He’s been sketching for about an hour now, trying to wind down at the end of a hectic day. Everyone on base is giddy at the thought of going home for the holidays, and the energy is almost overwhelming..

“Sorry, but you’ll have to get used to my ugly mug around here. I know you’re one of the only ones here most Christmases, but I don’t have anywhere else to be this year,” he explains, hoping years of interrogation techniques pay off and Ghost doesn’t call him on the lie. Though it’s partially true, since there’s nowhere he’d rather be then in the barracks with him.

“Don’t you usually have a big family celebration? Remember you rambling about nieces and nephews and being forced into midnight mass by your mother,” Ghost asks, eyes narrowing behind the black balaclava he’s chosen to wear today.

“Glad to know you actually listen to me when I shoot my mouth off,” he laughs out.

“Never miss a word, Johnny,” Ghost tells him evenly.

“So any other year, yeah I'd be home, but things are out of sorts this year with my sisters traveling to their husband’s families, and me Ma and Pa planned a little trip of their own,” he says. Sure, the little trip was right down the road to his brother’s house where everyone would be gathered like every other year, but no need for Ghost to know that.

Last year it was excruciating to leave Ghost on the tarmac, saying goodbyes as everyone else went home to their families. He doesn’t know much, but it’s clear Ghost no longer has anyone waiting for him back at home. They’d all joked about him haunting the base, probably maskless with the skeleton crew left behind and any other puns they could come up with. Still, there was a bleakness in Ghost’s eyes that he never wanted to see again.

Thankfully he’s never been able to hide his feelings from his parents, especially his mother, and she didn’t even bat an eye when he told her his plans. She’d said something cheesy about the magic of the season bringing them closer together, which he’d quickly scoffed off. He wasn’t doing this with any ulterior motives in place. It was a simple fact that his best friend shouldn’t be alone over the long holiday break they were lucky enough to get two years in a row.

If he happens to be completely ass over tits in love with him, he’s smart enough to keep it to himself.

“Guess it could be nice to have some company, even yours,” Ghost teases with a snort. Soap rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking still.

“Do you cook anything for it or rely on the mess hall for Christmas dinner?” he asks, already planning how to make things nicer for him. They may be stuck on a mostly empty base, but there’s no reason why he can’t make it as comfortable as possible.

“Sometimes I make a pot of soup for the week, but nothing special for the day itself. Tend to keep to myself,” he says softly. And that just won’t do.

“Happy to help sample anything you cook, but since I burn water, I’ll order us something nice from town. It shouldn’t be too late for a small catering order. You like lasagna?” he asks, already thinking of the perfect little Italian place near here.

“Wouldn’t say no to it, but there’s no need to get fancy over me,” Ghost mumbles. It only makes Soap more determined to bring a little Christmas magic into his life this year.

“I’ll take care of dinner and you just bring the good company,” he says to settle it. He’ll place an order first thing in the morning, already planning to buy way more food than they need. Ghost deserves to be spoiled, and leftovers are a rare commodity around here.

“Not sure I’ll contribute much in that regard, but yeah, I can show up,” he agrees.

“No one else I’d rather spend the day with. Honestly,” Soap admits, but Ghost just huffs at him.

“Piss off, Johnny,” he says with a laugh. Before he can figure out a response, the man is already gone. It may just be the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he’s damned sure going to make sure Ghost knows how much Soap likes being around him, especially now. Likes, not loves, because he has a feeling that’s something he’ll take to his grave. Being around him will just have to do for now.

—

The poster fell off the wall for the three thousandth time, and Soap barely managed to keep himself in check. Price would have his head if he blew up the base, but it’s getting more and more likely. It’s a stupid thing, really, just a fake Christmas tree by a fireplace, but he bought it to cheer up their rec room. He grumbles under his breath, reciting every swear he knows and probably inventing some new ones along the way.

“Problems, Sergeant?” Ghost asks from his spot on the couch. There’s a hint of laughter on the edges of his voice, and Soap spins around to glare at him.

“There is in fact,” he spits out before taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. No use in pissing off the man he’s trying to decorate for. “These walls are apparently covered in fifty some years of filth, and I can’t get the damn tape to stick. Seriously, it’s like teflon and I’m actually afraid to think about what could be coating this wall right now.”

“This that important to you?” Ghost asks, head tilted like he’s studying him.

“Aye,” Soap sighs out. “Just wanted to brighten up the room a bit. We can’t have a real tree, and I’ve been banned from open flames on base, but I thought this stupid fucking poster might work. Wanna sneak off base and burn it with me? Might raise my spirits.”

“How about I fix it instead,” Ghost says, standing up to stomp over to the wall.

“You’re more than welcome to try, but not even sure duct tape will hold the damn thing at this point,” he says, scowling at the wall. Seriously, he was going to beg Price to get the room deep cleaned as soon as he was back on base. Can’t be safe.

Ghost shrugs before bumping him out of the way with his hip. He holds the poster with one hand and reaches into the back of his jeans with the other. The knife he pulls out is on the small side, but it does the job when he stabs it through the poster and into the wall. Nodding proudly, he slides another knife out of his sleeve and buries it in the other top corner. The final blade is tucked in his boot, and he takes a few steps back before flinging it at the wall.

It lands perfectly in the bottom center of the poster, and Soap chubs up in his sweats at the display of skill.

“Guess that works, too,” he murmurs, actively avoiding Ghost’s gaze. No need to show off how fucking gone on him he is, and he knows there’s hearts in his eyes right now. He’s bound to be suspicious just based on how desperate Soap is to make things perfect, to give him a better Christmas than year past, and he should try better to keep his feelings hidden. Not looking to get his heart broken over the holidays.

“Anything for you, Johnny,” Ghost tells him as he strides back to the couch and picks up his book again. Soap can feel his cheeks heating up and blurts out some half-assed excuse before making a tactful retreat.

—

He debates waiting until morning, but Soap is too curious about the package in his hands to wait that long. His box of gifts from his family arrived today, but he didn’t bother unpacking it until after dinner. Everything was neatly labeled - or scribbled by his nieces and nephews - with his name except for one.

To Ghost, From Ma MacTavish. Open Immediately.

Not one to disobey his mother, Soap raps on Ghost’s door and hopes this isn’t something too embarrassing. Lord knows his entire family is annoying enough already over his little crush, and he doesn’t need his mother stepping in to help him. There’s a rustling from behind the door before it’s swung open by a brooding Ghost. Anyone else might not see how moody he is, but Soap can tell just by studying his eyes.

“What do ya need?” he asks, voice cracking from disuse.

“Got a special delivery for you and instructions for you to open it right away,” Soap informs him, holding up the package like the peace offering that it is. Ghost eyes it suspiciously but steps aside and lets him into the room. While he’d love a chance to look around, Soap keeps his focus on Ghost out of respect for his privacy. He knows just letting him into the room was a big step for the other man.

“Your mum sent this?” Ghost asks as he takes the parcel from him. Soap nods and smiles warmly as Ghost’s eyes widen. “Better not keep her waiting then,” Ghost mutters before sitting on the edge of his bed. The package looks huge, even in his large hands, and Soap really wonders what it could be.

He tears the paper at the seams, carefully working a finger down the edge of it. It’s gentle in a way that hints of Christmases past and perhaps being yelled at to keep the wrapping for next year. Soap’s grandma used to do that and iron out each crease to save money.

When Ghost finally removes the paper, soap breathes a sigh of relief at seeing the present isn’t anything to worry about. Trust his mother to try and take care of someone she’s never met. Ghost holds up the blanket, blinking slowly at it. Soap supposes he isn’t used to getting many gifts, especially not something handmade. The blanket itself is a mix of blank and white granny squares, no doubt crocheted with love by his mother. Everyone in their house has at least one of these piled at the foot of their bed, and his heart warms at the thought of Ghost having one on his.

“She made it?” he asks in a whisper, and Soap wants to cry about it. There’s no reason a gift should put him in such a state of awe, and he vows right then and there to spoil him as much as he’s allowed to under the guise of friendship.

“You’re looking at a Ma MacTavish special right there. Everyone in the family has one, and it looks like she thinks highly of you,” he confirms.

“Never even met me.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve entertained her with a tale of two of the man who saved my life so many times. Besides, how else do you think she’d know the perfect color scheme for an emo bastard like yourself,” He says in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkle up, and he knows there’s a smile beneath the mask.

“You’ll have to thank her for me. No, wait! I’ll get a thank you note together for the next time you send mail home. That alright?” he asks almost timidly, which isn’t an emotion Soap’s sure he’s ever shown before.

“She’ll love that. Sorry to barge in on you so late at night, but I’m glad I did. Should probably be heading to bed, though,” Johnny says with a pout. Dreams of being asked to stay, to tuck himself against Ghost under that very blanket flash through his mind and he has to get out of here quickly before he shows his hand.

“Me too. Night, Johnny,” Ghost says, and he understands it for the dismissal that it is. The last thing he sees as he ducks out the door is Ghost spreading the blanket across the top of his bed and smoothing it out. He’ll have to send his mother a thank you note as well.

—

There is absolutely no reason for them to be in Soap’s room instead of the rec room, but he wasn’t about to say no when Ghost suggested it. Currently they are sitting on his bed - which is way too small for two grown ass men - with their backs against the wall and his laptop propped on top of their thighs. Ghost is a constant warm presence at his side, and he’s pretty sure he would be completely lost if he hadn’t seen this movie so many times.

They each have a glass of their preferred poison in hand, and Ghost has his mask tucked up over his nose while he purses his lips at the screen in front of them. He is so fucking stunning with the light from the laptop highlighting the planes of his face, and Soap would be weak in the knees were he standing. Not that Soap is abusing his trust just to watch him more than the movie. Absolutely not. Still, the sight of Simon’s sharp jawline is a rare one and he can’t seem to stop staring. He longs to scrap his teeth over the scar that curves around it and has to hold himself back from scooting even closer to him.

“I don’t get it,” Ghost says, breaking him out of his dangerous thoughts.

“How so?” he asks, eyes already turned back to the screen to see what part of the movie they’ve reached. Nearly done at this point, but the silly plot has been a fun distraction. They don’t often get downtime, time totally free of responsibilities, and he hopes he can go without this once everything is back to normal.

“This just seems so improbable. His family forgot to bring him to the airport and they don’t have a single family friend they can call in the meantime? The police are actively searching for these two assholes and yet a child is the only one who manages to take them down? Gotta admit some of these traps are pretty awesome, though,” Ghost rambles out.

“One, I can’t believe you’ve made it this far in life without watching this. Two, this film is a masterpiece because it makes you suspend reality. Three, I’m pretty sure this is why I ended up in demolitions anyway. Do you know how many things I blew up after seeing this? I thought my Pa was going to murder me just as an example for my brothers and sisters. One time I rigged a frying pan to hit my brother in the face and it broke his fucking nose,” Soap says, unable to hold in his laughter. “Pretty sure he was about to pack me off and make me Nan deal with me, but my Ma couldn’t let her baby go.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Johnny,” Ghost tells him softly. He brings his glass up to his mouth, and Soap watches him swallow slowly, desperately trying to remind himself how they’re friends and nothing more. “Glad it brought you to me, though.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest.

But then they fall into an easy silence, and he’s forced to turn back to the movie. They both finish their drinks as the plot winds down, and he’s about to offer another when Ghost grabs his wrist to stop him from standing up. He looks down, worried that he’s overstepped somehow, and the tightness in Ghost’s clenched jaw startles him.

“We’ve had a good week, yeah?” Ghost asks quietly.

“Loved every second of it,” Soap blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Might not love this so much,” Ghost says with a sigh. “I’ve…I’ve never been this close with anyone, barely even shared this with Price, but I’d like to give you some sort of explanation for why I keep to myself at Christmas. If you’ll listen, that is.”

“Ghost, I will always be here, no matter what you want to tell me. Thank you for trusting me so much, but are you sure you want to do this while we’re drinking?” he has to ask, needs to be sure his friend won’t regret this come morning.

“You think I just keep bourbon and scotch on hand? That’s kinda the reason why I brought it with me. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now, but I needed a little courage to do it. Just, just don’t say anything until I’m done, ok? If you do I might not be able to finish,” he warns him, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Sensing how important this is, Soap sets both their glasses on his bedside table and closes the laptop. His desk lamp is on, so they’re not totally in the dark. He knows rumors of Ghost’s past, has heard a bunch of shit about his time in captivity, but every scrap of information is dear to him. He longs to know the man beside him better than he knows himself. He leans back against the wall and angles his body towards Ghost before saying, “Course. I got you.”

“When I was little, the only person I cared about was my mum. She kept me safe, kept my dad and brother away from me the best she could. I know now that my brother was only doing what he could to avoid my dad’s rage, but it still hurt back then. I won’t lie, I had a real shitty childhood and ran into the service as soon as I could. After that, things started improving. I came back home, kicked my sorry excuse for a father out of the house, and got my brother off of drugs. Hell, I stood beside him as he married the love of his life, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything, but the memories threaten to crush me sometimes.”

He trails off and palms the back of his head, chewing at his lower lip. Soap stays silent, unwilling to break his promise even though Ghost looked on the verge of falling apart. They sit there for a long moment while he regroups and continues his story. Soap longs to reach out, to offer some sort of physical comfort, but he knows better than to act on it. Simon doesn’t enjoy being touched on a good day, and he’d absolutely hate it while letting himself be this vulnerable.

“Things were going well until I got betrayed and snagged by Roba. Fuck, Johnny,” he breaks off, swallowing thickly before pressing his fingers to his mouth. “It was bad. I won’t go into details, but you can only be tortured for so long before you start to doubt yourself, start to go mad instead of trying to fight it. I have no fucking clue how I managed to survive after being left for dead, but I eventually made it back home.”

Ghost shifts his legs, twitching as he picks at the fabric of his sweats. He takes a few deep breaths and stares ahead at the wall, shoulders tense as he continues. “They died on Christmas, and it was all my fault. Roba still had his hooks in me, and couldn't let me go since I escaped with my life. One more betrayal led me back to my mum’s house that only hours before had been full of celebration and Christmas cheer. When I got there, the whole house was up in flames. The fire was so hot, but I had to save them. Only it was too late, because they were lying dead near the doorway. They even put a bullet through the forehead of my nephew. He was so small, so fragile, and I couldn’t even save him.”

He falls quiet, and it seems like he’s finished. Soap knew it was bad, but wasn’t expecting something so tragic. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just lays a hand on Ghost’s shoulder and squeeze it gently, deciding to risk the touch at this point. It seems to shatter something inside of him and he slumps over to lean on Soap’s shoulder.

“The men involved?” he asks quietly.

“Killed them all. Didn’t bring back my family, though. So yeah, Christmas fucking sucks, but at least I’m not alone this year. Didn’t know it would be easier with you here, but you always manage to help me stay calm. Should have expected it,” he says. His voice is tinged with exhaustion, and Soap knows he’s worn himself out.

“Thank you for trusting me with this. I, it’s, well it’s fucked up that you had to experience that. I know nothing I say can help make it much better, and I’m honestly not sure how you managed to get through it, but I’m grateful you did. I can’t imagine being here without you,” Soap says after a long moment. He knew Ghost has a shitty past, had heard about him digging himself out of his own grave, but this is a whole new level of horrible. If it happened to him, he can’t say he would still be here to talk about it.

“Price helped a lot. Pushed me through it and then kept me around,” Ghost says, turning to stare at the wall. Soap isn’t sure what he can offer at this point, but he has the feeling Ghost might not want to be alone after unloading all of this.

“Stay with me?” he asks, watching as Ghost’s shoulders rise up. He still isn’t looking at him, so he keeps talking. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I can’t imagine wanting to be by myself after such an intense conversation. Would feel bad if I let you go back to your room, really.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually sleep with the mask on,” Ghost says with a chuckle. And ok, he can work with that.

“So let me freshen up and get myself ready for bed. You can go after me, and I’ll just sleep on my side. I can keep my eyes shut, give you your privacy,” he suggests. Ghost finally turns to look at him, and there’s a telltale hint of red around his eyes. If Soap was still religious, he’d offer up a prayer that the other man agrees. He clearly needs comforting tonight.

“Yeah, ok,” Ghost mumbles. “Gonna change into my sleep stuff, though. I’ll get ready in my room and be back in a few.”

He practically leaps out of the bed, and Soap hopes he holds true to his word. He goes through his nightly routine on autopilot, not even aware of it until he’s crawling into his bed. He leaves the side of the covers up and turns onto his side to face the wall. It’s only just catching up to him that he invited Ghost into his bed, but tonight isn’t about him. He’d be offering the same closeness to Gaz if he shared something as horrific as Ghost just did.

If anything, this only proves how amazingly strong Ghost is. He had to reinvent himself twice, the second time with no one to support him. They’ve all seen and done some really horrendous things in the name of queen and country, but he can’t fathom coming home to find the burning bodies of his family at his feet.

He’s yanked out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of the door opening and shutting. The clunk of Ghost setting down his boots seems impossibly loud in the silence, and he holds his breath waiting for Ghost to come to bed. He hears the muffled sound of Ghost removing his mask and setting it on the bedside table and fights the urge to turn around and look at his gorgeous face. He’s here as a friend tonight, and his feelings don’t matter right now.

The bed dips behind him, and the covers shift as Ghost settles in behind him. There’s an awkward few seconds where they both shuffle around trying to figure out how two large men can fit in such a small bed, but then Ghost sighs and rolls onto his side to frame Soap from behind. He slings an arm across Soap’s hips and presses his nose against the nape of Soap’s neck. The last thing he hears as he drifts off is a soft, “Thank you, Johnny.”

—

Unsurprisingly, Ghost is gone when he wakes up. The bed is still warm, though, so he knows he spent the whole night. He wishes he could have woken him up with a Merry Christmas, but understands his need for time to himself. Chris, last night had been a lot. Hopefully he can still provide a little holiday cheer tonight, but even if they eat in silence he’ll have a great time. Every second spent at Ghost’s side is a better gift than anything he could ever fine underneath the tree.

He spends the morning in the gym, working out his frustrations. Life wasn’t fair, but it has been exceedingly rotten towards Ghost. He knows there isn’t anything he can do to change his past, but he’ll damn sure be here for his future. It feels like they crossed a line last night, but he’s not sure which one. Nothing romantic happened, but he feels closer to Ghost than anyone before. He’s willing to bet Ghost hasn’t opened up this much to many people, probably just Price, and he’s ashamed at how giddy that makes him feel.

They might not ever be together, but they’ll always be solid.

After lunch and a long, self-indulgent shower it’s easy to keep himself busy by running through last minute preparations. They hadn’t said anything about exchanging gifts, but Soap kept finding the perfect things for him.He knows Ghost will love the aged bourbon, even though it hurt his Scottish heart to buy it. There’s also a new knife that came highly recommended by their armorer and a deck of cards with holographic skulls on them. Wrapping was never his strong suit, but he managed to slap some paper onto his gifts. Sure, it looked like they were wrapped by a small child, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

He just finishes heating up the catering he picked up the day before and is about to text Ghost to hurry up and join him when his phone goes off. It’s an incoming FaceTime from his mother, and he decides there’s plenty of time to take it before Ghost swings by. He’s been missing his family all day, but they promised to call at some point.

“Ma! Happy Christmas!” he shouts, laughing as his entire family tries to crowd into the camera view.

“You’ll each get a turn, back off,” his mother says, already throwing elbows at his siblings and their kids. His dad stands next to her, silent as always but with a huge smile on his face. He lifts his glass in cheers, and Johnny waves back in response.

“We’re about to eat dinner, but It’s good to see you all. Make sure everyone gets hugs from me, even though I’m not with you this year. And pass out my presents! Make sure the kids know how much Uncle John spoils them. I want photographic evidence!” he says, laughing as one of his nieces tries to jump into the view again. His dad picks her up and wanders off, no doubt about to bribe her into behaving with cookies.

“I hope staying away is worth it,” his mother says, but she doesn’t look mad, just nosy. She’s been on him for months to bring his boy home, no matter how much he tells her they aren’t dating. Ghost is one hundred percent his boy, though, even if he hasn’t realized it yet.

“It’s worth every second away from you all,” he answers honestly, “I’ll be home as soon as we get more downtime, but you know why I have to be here. Thanks for understanding.”

“Anything for my baby,” his mom says, snorting when he scowls at her.

“You ever going to stop calling me that?” he asks, knowing full well she never will. He isn’t mad, not really, just likes to give her grief about it.

“If you didn’t want to be my baby, you’d have been born higher up the chain,” she tells him with a smirk.

“We can argue about it later. Let me get dinner on the table and then we’ll chat again later, yeah? We can pass around the phone so all the kids can show me everything they got,” he suggests, and his mom nods in response.

“Go feed your boy,” she tells him and ends the call before he can quip back at her.

“Not my boy,” he mumbles to the empty room.

But then someone clears their throat from behind him, and his heart sinks into his chest. Fuck. He spins around with a fake smile on his face to find Ghost standing there with his arms crossed.

“I’m assuming you heard all of that?” he asks with a grimace.

“You lied about your family not being together,” Ghost says, though he knows it’s a question.

“Aye, I did. And I don’t feel bad about it. I couldn’t leave you here alone again. Like it or not, I’m here for you,” he says with a sharp nod. He’s already gearing for a fight, ready to be stubborn as hell about it, but what Ghost says next throws him off his game.

“Because I’m your boy,” he asks, and Johnny can hear the fucking smirk in his voice. He has a plain balaclava on today, which is as dressed down as Ghost seems to get.

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to let that one go? We can forget about it,” he offers quietly. Because who is he to keep dreaming, right? He’s been dropping hints for at least a year now, and Ghost hasn’t taken the bait. He teeter-totters between thinking the man returns his feelings to thinking he barely tolerates him. Regardless, he meant what he said and he’ll be standing by his side as long as Ghost lets him.

“And if I don’t want to forget it? What if I wanted to be your boy? Though I’d prefer man, if we’re being honest here,” Ghost says, and he freezes while his brain catches up.

“You fucking with me?” he asks, just because he needs to know, needs to be sure before he makes a fool of himself. Well, more of a fool than he already has.

“No, but we could fool around later if dinner goes well,” Ghost tells him, laughing as he reaches up and pulls the mask off. He tosses it onto the table, barely missing the salad bowl.

And fuck, he’s a bonnie lad. Soap can’t even speak, just stands there staring at him, eyes trailing over every exposed inch of his face, committing it to memory in case this is the last time he sees it for a while. “You’re stunning,” he whispers in awe. Then he has the pleasure of watching Ghost’s face darken, the apples of his cheeks turning pink and making the freckles dotting them stand out even more.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before stepping closer. “But yeah, I’m all in if you want this too. Want me. I’m sick of wasting time. Maybe next year we can be with your family instead of me keeping you stuck on base.”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life,” he says truthfully. “And I’d rather be stuck here every single year if you prefer it. But you heard my Ma. She wants you home with me.”

“Let’s make sure we make it to next Christmas, then,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of worry in his tone.

“Never letting go of you now,” Soap warns him with a laugh. Ghost chuckles and moves in so close the toes of their boots touch.

“Hard to let go if you haven’t even touched me yet,” he points out. And fuck if his smirk isn’t as lovely as Soap had imagined. It’s crooked, a scar bisecting the left side, but it’s perfect to him.

“Better fix that. Can I kiss you, Ghost?” he asks softly.

“Simon. Call me Simon when we’re alone,” he says breathily, and Soap knows how out of his comfort zone he is right now.

“Simon, can I kiss you? Please?” he asks and Simon just nods at him.

And so he does. He cups Simon’s cheeks, brushing a thumb across the constellation of freckles there, and leans in to press their mouths together. It seems almost anticlimactic after all their flirting, but the feel of Simon’s chapped lips against his is one of the best things he’s ever experienced. He can almost feel the tension leave both their bodies as they melt into each other. He keeps things light, pulls back before thinking better and darting back for another quick kiss.

Kissing Simon isn’t a burst of fireworks, but it’s like coming home which is even more perfect.

“Would now be a good time to tell you I’m really fucking in love with you?” he asks teasingly.

“Only if I can say the same,” Simon says, chuckling as he palms the back of Johnny’s head and drags him into another kiss.

And if they stand there kissing in the middle of the rundown rec room, lost in each other long after their dinner has gone cold, it’s no one's business but their own.

[the-somwthing]

OFFICIAL DOUBLE LIFE SECRET SOULMATES POST TO EXPLAIN THE PLOT

I will state nothing but facts here for other fans to interpret.

- Grian finds out Scar is his soulmate. He’s devastated by this but obviously tries to keep him alive, not telling him that he’s his soulmate until the end of the first session

- Important to note that when Grian was still trying to find his soulmate and tested with BigB, upon finding out they weren’t soulmates Grian said he had “never felt so heartbroken”

- Scar, upon finding out Grian is his soulmate, doesn’t really care about that much, already insisting the Jellies are his soulmate and it was even his thumbnail. He lets Grian drag him to his new home but doesn’t make any other efforts to work with him

- Eventually, Grian decides he wants a new soulmate, and sneaks into Box with the intention to “steal Ren’s man”

- By chance, BigB finds the heart and cookies before Ren does, and takes down the evidence as instructed so Ren won’t find it. He is on board with having a secret soulmate.

- BigB ends up being unable to hide things from his soulmate, he just can’t stand to lie to him, so he tells Ren about the secret soulmate, not revealing who it is but telling him that he has one

- Ren seems to misread the situation and believes BigB just has a secret admirer, which he declares is okay, because they can “look but not touch”

- BigB then of course misunderstands believing that Ren thinks this whole thing is okay to Ren, which I don’t blame him for because he DID explain things that (spoilers) Ren gets upset about later. But also Ren definitely somehow misunderstood, and maybe BigB should’ve caught onto what he was saying.

- BigB and Grian hang out as secret soulmates, BigB telling Grian that Ren doesn’t know who it is, but that he couldn’t hide it from Ren (“you know me”)

- Eventually the Relationship Ranch happens. BigB and Ren go there and despite getting into a few fights and failing some games, things seem to be going okay at the end… until BigB mentions that he saw his secret soulmate. Side note, I freaking love that part, Scott’s like “okay I’ll just step away to evaluate your score” and talks to his audience like “yeah I think I’ll tell them they need to work through some things” and as soon as he comes back Ren is yelling “YOU SAW THE SECRET ADMIRER?!” and Scott’s just like “oh that changes some things”

- Ren logs off in a fit of heartbreak. BigB then celebrates. After returning home he cries about it. He doesn’t want to lose Ren

- Grian and BigB continue to see each other, exchanging goods. Scar sees them at some point.

- btw, I forgot about the Broken Hearts Club, but I will say, you’re all probably thinking it happens after the Relationship Ranch. It doesn’t. Ren joined BEFORE that. Why? Because he went home and BigB wasn’t there once 😭 he came back later and Ren was happy again. Back to the plot

- Ren and BigB, who are now red, are forced back together. Neither one really wants to leave the other so it’s pretty awkward, until BigB reveals the gifts Grian gave him (that he wasn’t supposed to share with Ren I think. He of course cannot hide things from Ren and loves Ren so he shares them with Ren). Ren suddenly changes his mind on the whole secret soulmate thing, and decides he likes it and BigB should continue to see them.

- Scar gives Grian some cookies “for his secret soulmate” as you know an iconic call out line. I will say he literally did not care about anything Grian was doing up until this point. They do not discuss this further, Grian denying he has one.

- Grian Freaking Kills Ren (Which Kills BigB Too)

- As ghosts, Ren says that he and BigB were “loyal to each other till the very end”

- Grian holds a funeral for BigB. BigB as a ghost accepts Grian’s apology and forgives him. Grian declares they are “still secret soulmates”

And that is the entire Secret Soulmate Drama summarized. If I got anything wrong, let me know.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Always There - Chapter Fourteen: S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus, Sister!Reader x James Potter, Potter!Reader x Friend!Sirius

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, Umbridge, Fudge, Harry is a little shit, swearing, not proofread

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

I am starting a taglist so leave either a comment or something in my asks if you would like to be tagged in any of my works or just this series!

Author's Note: To those who celebrate, Happy Thanksgiving!

Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 1775

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

Not even a few days into the term, Harry had already received detention from Professor Umbridge. Now the toad-like woman never told Y/N exactly why he was given detention, just that he had lied to her about something and she didn’t appreciate that. She then proceeded to blame the Herbology professor’s parenting for the boy’s behavior. This was her first sign that something was up with the new professor and then she saw her nephew’s hand the day after his detention. It was scabbed over with the words ‘I must not tell lies’ carved into his hand.

“Harry, what happened to your hand?” Y/N pulled him aside to ask him the question. 

“It’s nothing Aunt Y/N, I promise,” Harry replied.

“Don’t hide this from me. Tell me what happened and how you got those words on your hand.”

“It was my detention with Professor Umbridge. She used some kind of quill that carves the words into your hand as you write them. She told me to stop lying about the return of Voldemort but she wasn’t there! I was there! I saw him!”

“I know, my boy, I know. I’ll handle this, okay? Go see Madame Pomphrey, she’ll give you something so that won’t scar,” She instructed her nephew. To say that the woman was furious was an understatement, so she stormed her way up to the headmaster’s office where Dumbledore and Umbridge were sitting and talking with the Minister of Magic. “You foul woman! How dare you use a cursed quill on a child! You should be sent to Azkaban for what you did to my nephew!” She yelled at the woman drowning in pink.

“Whatever do you mean Professor Potter? I would never do such a thing,” Umbridge said innocently.

“Look at Harry’s hand! It’s all scabbed up with the line YOU made him write for telling the truth! He does not lie! I raised him better than that!”

“Are you sure you raised him at all? I mean the poor boy looks quite disheveled all the time, his clothes are all worn down and his shoes are atrocious. I thought you came from a wealthy pure-blood family, Miss Potter?” Umbridge picked at her. She wanted a reaction and boy did she get one.

“I swear to Godric I will kill you if you speak ill of my family once more! Harry has new clothes and shoes, he just doesn’t want to wear them yet! And my family’s financial status has nothing to do with it! Nor does the blood status! Who cares about blood status?! Albus, Minister, if you two don’t take action, I certainly will and you will not like what I will do to this loathsome toad disguised as a woman,” Y/N was panting with anger, the longer she looked at the woman, the more she wanted to pounce at her and beat the shit out of her. However, she knew she couldn’t do that, not with the minister around, she had to be on her best behavior which she also wasn’t following.

“Did you need something, Dumbledore? I was interrupted in the middle of my lesson,” A familiar and calming voice stated behind her, however calming it was, she was still amped up and rearing to have a go at the pink toad. 

“Ah Severus, nice of you to join us. I wish to speak to you and Miss Potter privately,” Albus responded, “Professor, minister, I hope you don’t mind waiting a few moments. I need to speak to these two about a rather urgent matter.” Umbridge and the minister left the room and waited outside to be called back in. 

“What’s going on, why are you so upset, love?” Severus asked her.

“That toad out there is torturing the students! She used some kind of cursed quill on Harry that carved whatever he wrote on paper on his skin. He has ‘I must not tell lies’ carved on his hand for Salazar’s sake! Hasn’t there been enough shitty professors here in that same position?”

“I understand your frustration Y/N, however there is not much I can do here. They have begun to dwindle my authority in this school and that starts with not having the ability to dismiss Professor Umbridge. She was hired by the Minister, not by me so it is the Minister’s doing if it comes to dismissing her or not,” Dumbledore explained.

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Albus! You’ve been ignoring Harry since the beginning of the term and now you’re just letting this slide?! Like this isn’t child abuse or torture?!” She screamed at the man.

“Why don’t you head to the hospital wing with Harry, love. I’ll handle this, you need to be with him right now,” Severus stepped in trying to diffuse the situation.

“If nothing gets done about this I will leave my position and take Harry with me, no matter how much I love this school and no matter how much Harry does, I cannot allow my boy to be tortured like this! He is my son! He is mine to care for and protect! And with that toad around, I can’t protect him!” She threatened before storming out of the office. She quite literally ran into Umbridge on her way out, nearly knocking the woman over, but she kept walking. 

She kept her pace until she had made it to the doors of the hospital wing, taking a deep breath before entering and locating her nephew. He was sitting in the bed, Madame Pomphrey applying a healing ointment to his hand to help the scarring. His eyes lit up when he saw his aunt, a smile making its way to his face, brightening his features. She had noticed that Harry and James have the same smile, one so big that it will light up a whole room, it was uncanny really.

“Harry, my love, how’s your hand feeling? Any better?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice steady and calm even though she was still seething inside.

“A lot better actually. Did you talk to Dumbledore?”

“I did. Harry, there’s nothing he can do. The Minister hired her so that means that Dumbledore can’t do anything. The Minister seemed rather unphased. Look, love, if nothing gets done, we will be leaving Hogwarts and going elsewhere. I can’t have you at risk again, we can go find somewhere safe, maybe go to America, I heard Ilvermorny is one of the best wizarding schools in the world.”

“I don’t want to leave! That’s not fair, you can’t take me away from my friends for something so little! And you can’t just leave Hogwarts and the Order! That’s not the right thing to do!” Harry argued.

“It’s the right thing to do in terms of your safety! That is my number one priority, YOU are my number one priority!” Y/N replied, getting frustrated with the situation once again.

“I am not leaving. Hogwarts is my home! Hogwarts is where my family is! And you want to take me away from that?!” 

“What about our home? What about me? Am I not your family anymore?”

“No, not if you take me away from here. Hogwarts is my home, it’s where I feel the safest, where I feel the most welcomed!” With that, Y/N walked out of the hospital wing, not wanting to continue the argument and make the matter worse. She felt like every time she took a step forward in the right direction, she took three steps back not even a week later. She couldn’t catch a break.

She didn’t get what Harry didn’t understand, and sure it was unfair but did he not consider his safety? His aunt’s sanity? She had almost landed a one way ticket to St. Mungos during the summer, after spending the whole holiday awake and rushing to calm Harry down after a nightmare. She made it back to her quarters in no time, Severus already there waiting for her to return. “What’s wrong, my love?” He asked, seeing the look on her face knowing that something was bothering her.

“Harry told me he won’t consider me family if I pull him out of Hogwarts. I just want to keep him safe, Severus. That is all I want and I can’t have the peace of mind with Umbridge here because can torture the students and get away with it because Fudge sucks and will do anything that toad will ask of him. The students aren’t learning anything in her class nor are they practicing and then she is observing me tomorrow and I know it’s going to be bad because I yelled at her in front of Dumbledore and Fudge and I’m gonna get sacked and have nobody until the holidays. I’m overwhelmed, I’m so overwhelmed and I don’t know what to do anymore. Nothing I do will make Harry happy and all I want for him is to be safe and happy. It’s getting to be too much for me, Sev, I don’t think I can handle this by myself anymore,” She ranted to her partner. Severus was quiet for a moment, processing everything she had said before he formulated his response.

“Firstly, I don’t think she’ll sack you for yelling at her, she has to observe the way you teach before making that decision, you are a fantastic professor, you will be fine. Secondly, Harry doesn’t understand it because he’s a teenager, everything is about him and his friends, nobody else. He doesn’t want to get taken away from his friends which is understandable, however, the way he spoke to you is not okay, he needs to learn to treat you with respect. Thirdly, you don’t have to do this alone anymore, I’m here. I will always be here, call me for help, if you need me to handle Harry, I can handle Harry. You are the love of my life and that boy is a part of you, he is part of my life too and he is a big part. I will do anything for the both of you, always. Just say the word and I will be right by your sides,” Severus replied, his voice filled with understanding and love.

She rushed towards him, wrapping her arms around his middle and holding onto him tightly. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck as she breathed in his scent and listened to his breathing. Severus wrapping his arms around her almost instantly and holding her just as tight, his head resting on top of hers. “Thank you,” She whispered to him.

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[usedpidemo]

Confide (fromis_9 Gyuri)

“Thanks for letting me come over. Um—” Jang Gyuri touches her index fingers together, cheeks burning red from shyness, while she walks around the dumpster house that is your living room. She tiptoes around the filthy junkyard that is your apartment, avoiding the soda puddles and junk food scraps that lie in the open for ants to scrap. “Sorry for ruining your Saturday night. I promise, this wasn’t how I wanted to spend my Saturday night either.”

God. You feel just as embarrassed, if not more than she does. 

Sometimes, you forget that Gyuri is an idol, a celebrity, a larger than life figure in the eyes of the general public. It’s almost like you’re ruining her image by her simply being there — a dirty, unclean apartment that belongs to someone barely hanging on financially. Thank goodness it’s on the sixth floor of a random building placed in a random place in the city. You’d drop to your knees in complete shame should those Dispatch cameras find someone like her hanging around a ‘peasant’ like you. 

Marie Kondo will probably file a lawsuit against you if she sees how awful your flat looks.

Though she might be larger than life, Gyuri is still your friend — even if you don’t communicate as much because of her idol schedules anymore. So when she called you an hour earlier asking for your place, you didn’t hesitate in the slightest to offer yours. She confided in you the most and would share her feelings and ask for your comfort. There’s something she sees in you that she’d look for you for support rather than with her members. 

“Sure, anything for my friend,” you say cheerfully while you hurriedly dust and sweep the floor — as if she didn’t give you an hour's headstart when she sent that text. She doesn’t appear bothered by it, but man, it makes you look apathetic when she’s dressed like a star in contrast to your simple homely shirt and shorts. 

“Do you want anything? Food? Drinks? I still have some lasagna and chicken—”

“It’s okay.” Gyuri lifts her hand in refusal, flashing a cute, humble smile at you and presenting her trademark eye smile. “No need to make me feel any better; you’ve already done more than enough by letting me in. I’ll just watch TV and sleep on the couch.” 

You’re worried. Her tone sounds so gloomy and downcast. A few times in the past she’s called you over the phone to express her problems, but this is different. There has to be a reason why she personally wanted to see you, but you don’t know what it might be.

Putting down your broom and dustpan, you approach her casually laying on the sofa. She casually kicks off her heels to free her congested feet.

“Is everything okay?” you ask. “What happened?”

She tilts her eyes up from the screen toward yours, curling her lips in a grumpy, sour expression. “What happened? Oh, it’s nothing. You don’t need to hear it.”

Strange. She would immediately spill the tea whenever you asked. Whatever it is, she must have been deeply hurt by it. 

“I’m your friend, Gyul.” Drop to your knees to lower yourself to her level. “Whatever it is, I won’t ever tell anyone. Only I would know how you truly feel.”

“Really?” She raises her eyebrows, her tone changing from despondent to joy. “Are you sure, though? It’s quite a lot.”

You reassure her with a bright, wide grinned smile. “No, nothing is quite a lot for my friend. I have all the time in the world to listen to you.”

Your answer raises her spirit. Of course there’s a reason why you’re her confidant, and more importantly, her best friend. 

“Okay.” Gyuri slides her legs off the couch, freeing up space for you to join her. “Sit here. I want to tell you everything.”

Without hesitation, you set yourself down on the opposite side of the couch, ears perking, ready to listen to everything that she has to say. 

Gyuri takes a deep breath, averting direct eye contact with you. You solemnly observe her as she tries to make herself comfortable. The tears in her eyes tell you that whatever she’s been through is still a fresh memory — an open cut in her heart. 

After a few minutes of crying, you try to grab a tissue and get up, but you feel a sudden tug on your arm. Gyuri’s own hand is pulling you back.

“Don’t.”

And that’s all she needs to say. You rejoin her on the sofa with a concerned look, then wrap yourself around her in a warm, comforting embrace. It takes a little bit before she eases into your hug and rests her head on your shoulder. The sight of a broken Gyuri, sniffling and sobbing like a baby almost makes you want to cry too—but you can’t. 

Be strong. Be strong for her. Those words repeat in your head like a chant. 

To hide the pain gradually seeping, you retreat behind shut eyes, pulling her even deeper into your clasp as she shares her pain with you. It doesn't matter how long it will take, there’s no way you’ll let her go until she ultimately feels better. 

Eventually, the sniffles quiet down, and you feel a small shove on your chest. Gyuri releases herself from your embrace, rubbing a finger on her nose and flashing that trademark eye smile a second time. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I needed that so badly. Thank you.”

No words can be adequate to respond to that, so you simply flash a soft grin, mimicking her trademark eye smile that elicits a giggle from Gyuri. You’re also met by a quick, playful elbow to the belly in retaliation. 

“God, you really know how to make me feel better,” she says with a chuckle. 

“You’re my friend, Gyul.” you repeat what you said earlier. “I’m here for you. Always.”

—————

“Damn, I can’t believe he’d do that to you,” you say with utter disbelief as you stare at the phone in her hand. On the screen there’s an endless stream of texts from her boyfriend, Jeonghan. Except he’s her ex-boyfriend now.

“Yeah, and just imagine how many times he’d done this.” Her fingers slide to show more texts from the dismissive punk, Jeonghan. Even though they’re laid out differently, the meaning and simplicity remains the same. 

> Stuck at work. Can’t make it. 

> Sorry babe; another day. 

> 🧡🙏

“Tonight was our sixth month anniversary too,” she continues, scrolling downward to her more recent exchanges with him. “We had it all planned out weeks in advance. I bought this beautiful dress because he liked it so much, and I booked him his favorite restaurant because we never had the opportunity to eat there together. Fuck, there’s a two month waiting list to get in!”

The more details she drops, the angrier her inflection grows. Even as you glance toward her, those furrowed eyebrows and steely glare show frustration even just thinking about it; how much more verbally speaking about it and looking at the evidence?

Her fingers stop at a certain time point. 8:29 p.m., the breaking point of their relationship.

> Hey, where are u babe? I’ve been waiting for 20 minutes now :)

> I gotta bail. Lots of paperwork and the boss is expecting results by tomorrow. 

> See you later tonight? 

She directs her index a little further down, focusing on her subsequent exchange back at him.

> Not a chance, dipshit. This is the last straw. Fuck you. We’re done.

“Just look at the audacity of this shit,” she grumbles, skimming through the rest of the conversation quickly. Bubbles and paragraphs from his side that are fruitless in salvaging whatever is left between the two of them. “He’s said more words to me through text in five minutes than what he’s said to me within the past two weeks.”

“I mean, what the hell does any of this even mean?” Gyuri shrugs her shoulders in disgust. Her sarcastic tone makes it apparent that he’s spewing total bullshit over the phone, and she’s completely appalled by his consistent failings as a boyfriend. “Trying to impress the boss? I guess his boss is more important than his girlfriend. Sorry I don’t sign your paychecks, buddy, but I have something to offer too, you know? Like, my bad I’m not a walking dollar sign!”

Her jokes elicit a small cackle out of you. That’s when she’s at her best—when she’s poking fun at the current situation, no matter how bad it may be. 

“God, why is he such a damn workaholic?” she continues, expressing lament at getting into someone like him. “He cares way too much about work to even remember me. He missed my birthday dinner for work. He skipped out on our Valentine’s date so he could secure the partnership with those foreign investors. I don’t even remember when was the last time we kissed anymore. Maybe New Years?”

A sudden stop. Then, she wistfully sighs.

“He kisses his boss’s ass more than he kisses me.”

“Gyul…” You reach out your hand to hold hers, which she allows you. 

The emotional rollercoaster continues, going from sullen to confident. “Well, I guess he can kiss my ass too.”

Dead silence follows for a few minutes. You expect her to break down in tears a second time, but she doesn’t. It’s a moment of quiet contemplation and rumination—one so that she can be firm at her decision to finally end things with her boyfriend. She doesn’t let go of your hand all throughout, confidently confiding her feelings to you. In exchange, your wide eyed gaze remains steadfast on her face. 

When she speaks again, it seems like there’s still a hint of sorrow.

“I really feel so bitter about tonight. Gosh, it’s so embarrassing to be stood up like that. One year of dealing with his bullshit.” A small tear begins to flow from her eye, which she quickly wipes away with her free hand. “I wanted everything to be perfect. Despite my schedules, I took two days off, had my hair and nails done, and bought this dress that he liked. On top of that, I even complimented it with nice lingerie to surprise him.”

Both your eyes and hers’ look down at the lacy fabric hiding beneath her outfit. For a moment, there’s a rush of blood in the place you least want it to be—until you mentally remind yourself that you’re just friends. You’re there as a source of comfort, not a rebound for her. 

“You bought lingerie?” you blurt. That curious side of yours is letting in a bit too much for comfort.

“Yeah,” she scans herself and even pulls a bit at the oppressive hem to give you a little more for your eyes to feast on. “Still have it on, too. See?”

You nod rapidly like an excitable dog until the red lights flash in your head, once again forcing you to remember that there’s only a thin connection of friendship between you and Gyuri and nothing further. Thankfully, she doesn’t see you comically slap yourself in the cheek to remind you of the fact.

She sighs again. “So much for preparing. Look at me, all dolled-up for nothing.”

Not really. You get the honor of seeing her like this, something that her ungrateful ex-boyfriend of his won’t be able to brag about.

“But yeah, I’m honestly glad to get all of that out of my system. Thanks for letting me ramble.” She turns her gaze toward you with a bright smile. “I’d rather spend my Saturday night with someone like you than crying and eating ice cream like a sorry bitch.”

“Hey, it’s all good. Anything for you to feel better.” 

You press your hands between hers to give her warmth and reassurance. What wouldn’t you do to make her happy again whenever she needs it?

“I never really got to say this, but you’re such a great listener. Whenever we talk, I feel like I can actually share things with you. I can freely have a conversation with you, and it feels so refreshing.”

“Really?” you blurt out, surprised as you’re not quite the talker, nor do you provide anything beyond surface-level advice when it comes to friends, and as close as you two are, Gyuri is no exception. “I’m just…here.”

“And that’s more than enough,” she replies, leaning her face close to yours. You suddenly feel incredibly tense, almost uncomfortable even, but you do nothing to stop her. “Like I said, whenever we talk, you don’t just hear me, but you understand me. Does that make any sense?”

“Um, kinda?” you reluctantly reply, fighting off your honesty with your priority to make her happy. “I sort of get it.”

“Okay, good. I thought I was sounding crazy there,” she says, retracting her head back as you internally breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, and another thing.” You feel your body crash down to the couch as she suddenly pounces onto you like a predator from the bushes. 

“Did I mention you’re really good at maintaining eye contact? Almost like you can be an idol too, like me.” she continues with a giggle, laughing at her own joke. “Honestly, I find them attractive. I feel like I can stare into those beautiful eyes of yours forever.”

Your cheeks burn brighter hearing her compliment. She giggles as you awkwardly gaze back with twinkles in your eyes. You’re not sure what to do now: to let those restrained feelings of yours finally manifest, or just allow her to do whatever she wants, but keeping a clear line between your friendship when it’s crossed, and she’s tiptoeing close to that border.

Despite this, the trigger in your brain pulls itself.

“I like your eyes too.”

She flashes that trademark eye smile, sharing in your shyness with cheeks, bright and red as yours. 

“You like my eyes? You’re too sweet, thanks.” Her hands caress and squeeze your cheeks like a cat, molding them in her grasp like clay.

“Gosh, you’re so cute.” Gyuri continues to play with your face while you lay beneath her, completely powerless. “I feel like I could kiss you right now.”

If your thought cheeks couldn’t get any redder than the sun, now they are. Little by little, your restraint and willpower is crumbling away, but damn, if you aren’t trying your hardest to withhold yourself from making the first move against her consent.

“Then why don’t you do that?” you mutter. 

Her eyes light up and a wide smile forms on her face, as if a light bulb magically appeared above her head. 

“You’re right, why wouldn’t I? I’m single, after all.”

She doesn’t waste a second longer. The air around you tightens in a mere instant as her lips capture yours, and you feel as hot as the fucking sun with her weight pressing you down on the couch, her tongue invading your mouth, and her sweet little hum reverberating around your ears. Whatever space is left on that line, Gyuri has completely crossed it and back twice over. 

Allowing your senses to relish the new sensation, you slam your eyes shut as you both make out passionately. Her hands roam and explore your body, without care for the obvious discrepancy in the way you’re poorly dressed compared to her—she knows where it will all eventually fall in the end. It doesn’t matter. 

It also didn’t matter that you were acting defensive on the outside, knowing well that she was going to break you eventually, or that you were letting on more than she knew. A part of you wanted this to happen, and finally, here she is, letting her whole self onto you—mind, body, and soul as you dreamt of.

“Mmm,” she hums and drones between kisses, the tone bouncing between sweet and sultry. “Mmh, I’m sorry,” she has to talk between love pecks, which you admit, is a little annoying. “IIII-I really don’t know if you like the taste of my lipstick.”

Your response? To push her into your chest and continue making out on the couch. At points, you feel tugs on the fabric of your shirt and skin, while you blindly seek points to pull at her dress. Neither attempts at the other’s clothes result in any material being shed or torn.

Gyuri withdraws her lips from yours and clambers on top of you, using her hands as support on the sofa. 

“Wait. Before we do this, I wanna make one thing clear: I’m not doing this to get back at my ex. I have lots of pent up energy I want to release. I also really want you right now.”

You slowly nod, the realization of her intentions slowly passing through your head. 

“But I also really want to get back at him,” She lifts her eyebrows, as if demanding your approval for the deed. “Am I still making any sense?”

“Yes?” A form of dread lingers at the back of your mind, assuming that failure to respond within five seconds signals your end. Is this even cheating? But she said she’s single now, so it might be fair after all, or not? Should 24 hours pass before she should have done this? 

She dives in for a quick peck of your lips; a small dose of brain juice to get your shit together—or to mess it up entirely.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” she says disapprovingly, aware of your inability to give a proper answer. “Let me make it clear, then.” She dives close to your face again, whispering in your ear, “I want you to fuck me.”

She’s not even finished speaking, yet when her tone and demand sends shivers down your spine and raises the hairs all over your body. 

“I want you to fuck me,” she repeats, in her most lustful tone. “Fuck me better than he did. I’m all yours tonight.”

You don’t even question that she has had some sexual experience with that bastard, not when she’s openly inviting you to take her with open arms.

“We can do whatever you want.”

Before you can even think of what you want to do with her, she crashes her lips down on yours again violently, with a little more hunger, with a little more desire. Between the hums that escape her lips is an occasional soft moan, and you are more than willing to simply let her seize control, despite her request for you to take the wheel. If the night ended like this—with Gyuri, your best friend on top of you after a round of kisses and nothing more—you would be more than satisfied.

Somehow, she has some kind of ability to read your mind like a telepath.

Her arms reach around the back of her peach colored dress, interrupting the makeout session. You offer yours to assist her, and you’re rewarded as you clasp the metal zipper keeping it together. She allows you to run it down her body, which you happily do. Slowly slide the velcro down her expensive fabric as the previously hidden matching colored cleavage exposes itself for you, with shapely breasts tucked behind a mouth-watering bra. 

Gyuri does the rest, gently sliding the straps off her shoulder, pushing it down halfway. The way she’s positioned on top of you makes it difficult to completely remove, so she decides to get rid of it first, sitting up as the expensive piece of clothing ruins itself as it drops down to her legs. After a brief struggle, she kicks it off her feet and leaves it ignored on the floor next to the sofa. One half of clothed distractions gone. 

She immediately plants herself atop you, making sure her cleavage is center stage, drawing your attention to her chest. 

“Like the view?” she asks, rather stupidly knowing well you both know the answer.

Nevertheless, you nod approvingly as she giggles in response watching you openly lust for her. Then, it’s back to kissing and making out while laying on your couch again.

Disregard the lack of comfort you both feel on the sofa. The scent and flavor of her rosy lips on yours makes you forget about those feelings of hesitance and restraint. Gyuri’s also using you to give a mental middle finger at her former lover, though you wish she’d cut down on that and hope that your finger is planted on those tight lips instead—not just so she’d shut up but also so that you’d make her forget about him too. Such an opportunity will come, but for now, you’ll make do with the touch of her body, with your hands all over her, making her grimace and moan in pleasure.

“Nnngh.” 

She tries to distract herself from your touch with a few futile attempts to recapture your lips in a heated kiss, but you are simply too much and leave her breathless. Your fingers even graze the cloth of her underwear and bra, but you’re not ready to move to that stage just yet. 

“Be honest with me,” she lets out an airy purr. “We’ve been friends for a while. So I just wanna ask: Have you ever fantasized about me?”

Your heart drops as you struggle and squirm beneath her. The gulp in your throat is audible enough for her to hear. Seeing you vulnerable and weak for her like this, she flashes a taunting smirk. Contrast to it is that darned wholesome eye smile, making her appear like an angel and a demon all at the same time. It’s the little things in her body movement too: the slight tilt of her head, the seemingly innocent, caring hand on your cheek that’s building pressure on you, and the lift of her leg make it seem she’s playing you like a toy—no, you are indeed just a toy for her. 

“Hmm—” Gyuri playfully places a finger on her chin, briefly retreating her stare at you, yet you don’t feel like there’s room to breathe. “Have you ever thought about getting to feel me? To taste me? To fuck me?”

Something distracts her. She looks down, and the sight amuses her. There’s a hill growing between your groin, and she giggles at your body’s excitement. 

“O-Oh? Looks like your little friend is speaking on your behalf. Look at it; so excited to finally feel me.” she says seductively as you feel a sudden grip on your balls. Her hand rubs and squeezes around your clothed shaft, causing a small puddle to form on your shorts. “Then why don’t we make those fantasies come true?”

She hops off the sofa, strutting in the direction of your bedroom and hypnotizing your eyes towards her ass. “Let’s go to your room.”

Wasting no time, you jump off the couch as soon as you feel the air loosen around you, but as you prepare to zoom past her first, you suddenly stop.

“Lose your pants along the way there.”

Thank goodness Gyuri’s nowhere in sight as you shed your shirt, your shorts, and  your boxers like a drunk maniac as you slide toward your bedroom. It’s only when you slam the door shut once you’re inside when she turns around to find you completely naked and hard for her. 

“Oh fuck, you look so big,” she rasps as you cautiosly approach her, seated on the edge of your bed. “Bigger than my ex.”

She takes your thighs by force, positioning your cock right around her level—a perfect position to paint her white like the sheets.

“Mm, I’m feeling wet already.” Her whisper reverberates around your shaft, making you wince from the wave of her voice. “Why don’t I make you wet too?”

Gyuri takes your waist, pushing you with sudden force onto the bed with an audible thud and creak. Then, she clambers atop you again—a position you’re both familiar with by now, but neither of you are tired of. 

“Just lay down,” she whispers against your neck, which you comply with by resting your head down. Her lips peck your collarbones, followed by a soft nibble and graze. “Just feel my tongue trail down your body—from your neck, to your chest, to your stomach, and finally to your cock.”

She disappears behind your closed eyes. From there, your imagination and senses do the rest. There’s weight being pressed on your chest; you assume it's her hands. You want to grasp at something, to reconfirm that what’s happening right now is real, but there’s hardly a reason to when her delicate, smooth kisses leave you winded. 

You lay there, at rest, taking every bit of her lips on you at her command. Suddenly, a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes light up. She meets yours halfway; she’s a lot farther than when she started. She’s now by your groin, the line between your girth and her lips incredibly blurry. She might as well be kissing it. Oh wait, she already has.

“Ooh, you liked that, didn’t you?” she asks in a coy, playful tone. As you try to nod, you feel your head spin and you’re more dazed. 

“You like it when I tease your cock with my little tongue?” she adds with a giggle.

Yes, fuck, of course I do—is what you’d say to her if she gave you an opportunity to breathe. Before you know it, she’s playfully slurping and licking your shaft. The gasps that you make grow a little louder in volume. 

“Mm, wonder what happens if I put the tip in my mouth a bit?”

The answer is instantaneous. A sudden moan rings through the bedroom; it isn’t her whine, it’s yours.

“Mm, I love that sound. It’s so hot. Moan for me again.”

It’s not a request, more like a demand. She wraps her tongue and takes your tip into her mouth a second time, earning another moan out of you. What follows is a constant stream of airy groans and precum milked with each entry in her mouth, licking your most sensitive parts like a popsicle. Her fingers envelop your dick in a bind, wanting to get a little more out of you through jerking your shaft at a slow pace.

“I, I, guh ughh—Gyul!” Your face contorts and twists in all sorts of expressions, much to her delight. 

“Bet I can make you cum right now.” She giggles before taking you into her mouth again.

Unwilling to burst so early, you shake your head. Mustering up whatever strength you have, you say, “N-no. N-need to p-put you deep in my mouth.”

“You want me to put the whole thing in my mouth?” She raises an eyebrow with intrigue. “Well aren’t you quite eager?”

She puts a finger on her chin again, as if very hesitant to follow through on the deed. “I don’t know if you can handle it. Sucking cock is a speciality of mine. Are you sure you want to, though?”

You don’t even hesitate to nod right away; at that moment, you’ve never looked so desperate and needy.

“Okay, you asked for this.”

Gyuri dives in again, taking almost your whole length in her mouth in a single swoop. Instead of her face, her hair, or any piece of her, you yank the sheets of the bed as you squirm and struggle beneath her, arousing her even more. Spit coats most of your shaft as the narrow space between you closes a little again, as seen with the occasional bump of her nose with your base. 

The moans you make grow even louder, accompanied by the sporadic hiss. If her lips weren't enough to send you into a frenzied spiral, the little bounce on her chest does. Her head movement is intricate, intent to arouse you and make you even more wanting. On top of that, there’s her drool and your leak that spills on her top, staining her inviting bra and cleavage. To her, It’s not a distraction but rather an invitation, an excuse to finally let them finally slip.

Speaking of, her mouth slips out your slippery dick abruptly, but not of her own accord. Finally, some room for you to breathe, but it only lasts for a moment, if not less. Just as quick as she spits you out, she immediately takes you right in again. Your cock is light play to Gyuri’s throat; she puffs and gulps it down her gullet playfully like she’s in need of oxygen, and you’re drowning deeper in pleasure and desperation to blast right in her mouth. 

You don’t realize that between intense thrusts in her maw, she’s already slid down the distracting bra off her shoulders, with the panties following suit. The contemplation lasts as long as your attention toward her, though. Look up at the ceiling, frantically searching for any other thoughts aside from the warm, aching pain building up in your groin. You don’t want the night to end like this, after so much teasing.

But it looks like you're not the only one buzzing desperately after all.

There’s a ringing noise that can easily be mistaken for the bed trembling. Gyuri frees your throbbing shaft from her throat, but replaces the iron grip of her lips with her fingers instead. “Oh? My phone is going crazy right now! I wonder who it could be.” She’s leisurely stroking you off while sarcastically taunting her ex-boyfriend. Could be literally anyone else, says the part of your brain that has regained some semblance of thought, but she’s mostly kept you in a prison of bodily pleasure, securely fenced by lust.

“Why don’t I show you what he’s missing?” Gyuri hovers atop of you, no longer away from a distance, her nakedness in clear view. You lay beneath, eyes twinkling, with an exhausted expression on your features. Her soft but lust filled gaze keeps your eyes locked on her, enough of a diversion that catches you completely unawares when her wet folds are speared by your stiff cock.

She bites her lips and closes her eyes as the new sensation invites itself within her tight walls. Her body squirms violently with the slow entry of your shaft. It’s almost like she’s never taken it hard, but she quickly acclimates to the new presence inside her when her hips effortlessly bounces on your waist. 

“Oh fuck, you feel so fucking amazing,” she moans, pressing her hands on your chest for stability. There’s no support for the instability that you’re feeling on your side, however. With just one slam of her hips, she’s left you completely heavy and weak, but you’d be lying if it wasn’t the most pleasurable sensation you’ve ever experienced.

As spent as you are, you want more. You need more.

Hold your arms out to grab Gyuri’s slender waist. Such a flawless body; perfectly sized busts that can snugly fit in your palms, lean waist that isn’t too thin, based on the moist trickle around her navel, a clean bush, and toned, shapely legs that can wrap themselves around your throat and smother you. Of course, the icing on this orange cake is the hot, wet sensation of her tight pussy suffocating your shaft, almost getting you to blow with just one pump. 

It only gets worse from there—or better, depending on how you look at it. 

Not only is Gyuri phenomenal at deepthroating, but also at riding you. Her hips rise and drop in gentle waves, the wet crashing sound of flesh filling the space between you. She leans her head close to yours with a starry eyed stare and disfigured grin from the overflow of pleasure surging her. Each bounce, each slick entry leaves you even more breathless by the second. There’s no momentum for you to swing upward despite the immense urge to fill her, to fuck her.

“Fuck, fuck, Gyul, you feel so damn good,” you say, gasping for air.

“You feel so fucking amazing, fuck, I—” Her loving gaze is snapped, her eyes shut themselves closed, her train of thought incapacitated by her wanton desire to feel every inch of you. It’s more than enough to give you space to thrust up and catch a small glimpse of your wet cock disappearing and reappearing between her stretched folds.

Gyuri is reduced to a moaning hot mess, only capable of producing two words, and they’re all you need to spur your arousal. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—”

Her filthy tongue repeats her utmost desire like a religious chant, a want for you to grant her desire for complete bliss. Her clean look is ruined within a matter of minutes, with frazzled long hair hiding her face, her lips gushing out spit like a feral dog, and behind the messed up appearance is makeup running down her gorgeous face. What a twisted, yet perfect way to conclude her night. Now, she was as dirty as you are.

Your bedroom becomes a soundstage for the lewd lovemaking you’re both doing. She’s riding you hard that produces echoes from skin clapping, the bed creaks sharper and in rhythm with her hips, and your moans are overpowered by her endless stream of profanities and her pitched whimpers. 

It’s the perfect image to fall asleep to—Gyuri’s breasts bouncing on top of you while practically waking the neighbors up with her coarse and salacious sounds. 

“Gyul, hold on—” The words escape you with utmost urgency, as if they are spoken before you even thought of them.

“No, no, want you to fuck me so hard that I can’t walk!” she shouts as she quickens her pace riding you, completely ignoring your voice. 

And for a moment, it seems like that would be your end. It isn’t until you grab and fondle her breast that her tempo suddenly slows down, then eventually to a complete halt. She comes to her senses to find her hair blocking her view, like that she needed any when she was in that state.

Brushing her hair away, she looks down at you. “What do you want?”

“All fours.”

Gyuri takes a deep breath, then gently lifts herself off you, releasing your cock from her soaked pussy with a plop. She turns around and positions her body on fours, as you wanted. Her face is high on the edge of the bed, and her backside is presented to you, with her stretched out cunt and white thigh highs in full view. Based on how wobbly her elbows are, she was close to trembling too. Like she said, fuck her so hard that she can’t walk. 

For the first time in a while, you feel the pressure in your body loosen, even though Gyuri isn’t the heaviest woman. Gingerly get up and position yourself behind her ass, ready to take her on her fours. Line your stiff, wet cock on the edge of her entrance, eager to finish.

“What are you gonna do, babe?” She looks back at you, appearing a little tired, but desperate. “I need your cock inside me again—fuck!”

You aggressively enter her cunt from behind, prematurely breaking her sentence. Her nails claw into the edge of the bedsheets, holding on as you fuck her. Hard. You’re much more relentless than when she rode you, pounding and thrusting her with your whole girth filling up and stretching her pussy as deep as you possibly can. 

“Oh, oh fuck—that’s so damn fucking deep, give me more! Fuck!” 

Just when it seems like her mind is going down into that familiar zone once more, her phone buzzes. Again, you’re not the only one trembling due to Gyuri’s influence. She giggles as you ramp up the pace, the slaps of wet skin growing louder than the first time.

Looking back at you a second time, she sees the determined, fiery look in your eyes and giggles. “Guess you heard the phone. Someone must sense how good you’re making me feel right now.”

“Shut up, just fucking take it.” A burst of frustration and anger takes you and you redirect her gaze away from you, pumping in her faster and faster. Not only do you want her to be incapable of walking, but you also want her to finally shut up about him. 

“Pull my hair, make it fucking sting. I can handle it, I want it—fuck!”

You didn’t need to be told twice. A fistful of luscious hair in your grasp, the handful of her ass on the other, as you control and dominate her from behind, snarling along with your emphatic, deep plunges, coating and spilling even more of her slick all over your shaft and on the sheets.

One deep thrust, and out comes a moan from Gyuri. A sharper, completely different one from any other that renders her breathless and gasping for air for a moment. 

“Oh shit, oh shit, that felt so damn good. Do it again.”

Somehow, lightning strikes twice. You impale her deep again, nearly recreating that same moan from her. Repositioning your shaft inside her cunt, this time with your palms all over her reddened ass, you piston her with furious intensity. The continued ringing of that damned phone stirs you up even further; might as well be a timer to when you eventually climax.

Then there’s the ever so talkative Gyuri, who just can’t help but build that fire in your loins. 

“You hear that? My phone, right? He’s so mad he lost me tonight,” she purrs huskily between moans. “He’s so fucking mad that this pussy is all yours tonight, and that you’re much better than he could ever be.”

The thin line that is your patience couldn’t be any more slimmer, you want to tug her hair again—

“And he’s so fucking mad that you can make me cum.”

“Please, fuck, Gyul—” Tug on that hair and hiss in her ear as you continue your steady, furious assault on her cunt. “I don’t care anymore; I’m so fucking close.”

“Good. Then you better not stop, because I’m going to cum soon too.”

“Tell me where.” In the midst of the heat, you nibble her ear, leaning close to her face, showing a little sign of affection. A little distraction from the twitching you feel in your cock.

“Anywhere, babe. Anywhere you want it. I’ll let you do the one thing he never got to do. Whenever you’re ready. I want to cum with you, too.”

To no avail, you try to recapture her lips once more, nearly pressing your entire weight on her in the process. Your hands are no longer on her ass, instead they’re intertwined with her own hands. Knowing she’s ready whenever you are, you want to savor her pussy’s hot sensation a little longer, even for just another second—

“Fuck!”

The words tumble from your mouths in perfect sync, a flawless, near-indistinguishable cry. Burying your cock deep in her pussy, it leaves you both over the edge, inadvertently making you dangle off the bed too. Despite this, your grip is stable enough to pour your every drop of seed into her womb. Not a single ounce wasted, all of you finally giving in to her, as she has given herself to you. 

For a moment, you feel your body on the verge of collapse, but you muster enough strength to pull back, regretfully leaving her painted, slicked up mess of a cunt, and fall onto the bed once more. 

Gyuri’s body teeters on falling off the bed or onto you. Against your expectation, she rests on her side, narrowly avoiding a possible fall again. The room suddenly falls silent; an air of tranquility passes through the place as if nothing happened. 

You lay down with a wide smile on your face, relieved and content. A perfect ending—

“Holy shit,” says Gyuri between deep, heavy panting. “I thought you were good in bed, but I didn’t know you had this in you, like fuck.”

Not even an intense, rough pounding can shut her up. 

She weakly crawls back to your waist, resting her head close to your shaft. 

“Mm, your dick looks a little dirty. Let me clean it up.”

You wince as her tongue wraps itself around your flaccid shaft again; thankfully it’s only a couple of leisurely, lazy licks instead of an intense vise grip, enough to clean the cum off your tip and sides.

“All clean.” She giggles as she looks at you. “Mmm, we taste great together.”

Resting her head on your thigh, she looks up at the ceiling, then she sighs. “Thank you. This was what I really needed. You made me feel good. No, you didn’t just make me feel good. You made me feel better—about everything. This was fantastic.”

An air of silence follows. Then, you say, “Of course, Gyul. You made tonight great, and it’s all because of you.”

Just as she’s about to speak, there’s that damned phone ringing again. 

“Ugh, does he ever shut up?” She rolls her eyes in disgust, then turns to you again. “Hey, do me a favor and turn off my phone.”

You’ve never been more in a rush to follow a command. Leaning to your right, grab her phone and slam the ringer off. Then, you leave it where it should have been from the very beginning—on the floor with the rest of her clothes to be completely forgotten.

She crawls up to your head, laying right beside you. “Thanks.” Then, an intimate kiss on your cheek.

When she brushes and caresses your cheek, you turn to her with a loving, tender gaze. She returns your look with her signature eye smile and pleasant grin. You were no longer friends. You’re lovers now.

“Can you do me another favor?” she asks with a soft tone.

“Sure, what is it?”

Gyuri leans her head ever closer to yours. “Could you fuck me again? I want to make sure I get my money’s worth from this outfit, and that entails a few more orgasms, for the both of us. What do you say?”

As if the invitation wasn’t enough, her hand reaches down to your cock, slowly stroking you back to hardness. Then, you pounce and get on top of her, eager to fulfill her request. She blushes and giggles as you shower kisses on her neck and collarbones.

“Mmm, it looks like you have more endurance than my ex too.” 

(A/N: Woo happy birthday present to me! Jokes aside, I seriously contemplated whether to even write this, as of course, she's no longer a fromis member and the wound might be still be fresh in the hearts of some readers. (I've even examined other female idols to fit the role but at the end, it was always her) It's very sad we'll never get to see her as an idol again, but I'm looking forward to fromis and actress Jang Gyuri's new paths. Anyway, this might be a new normal for the blog moving forward, as I have only two weeks left of break before college starts back up again, where the writing will be even more slower as class leaves me even more mentally drained than I already am. Why am I so damn unmotivated and unfocused? Anyway, thanks for reading!)

[sunfish-studies]

Celebration

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ Cogs › | Next:  ‹ Let The Games Begin! ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Last day of training calls for celebration for everyone’s hard work, so it’s barbeque time!

“All right, meat!”

“I’m starving!”

While the boys freshened up after practice matches, the managers were already on the move to prepare for the barbeque. Since there were quite a lot of people, the coaches decided to held it on the backyard of the gym, where the sharp hill stood just beside it. The coaches helped setting up the grills while the managers divided to cater different things.

Yachi decided she would get the utensils they needed; paper plates, chopsticks, paper cups, trays for rice balls, and other things. Shimizu would cover for the rice ball making, Yukie and Eri were in charge on cutting the vegetables in bite-size, Kaori and Mako would clean the vegetables before it was cut.

Meanwhile, you’re in charge of preparing the condiments and sauces, unwrapping the meat cuts, and arranged them on a bigger plate. Aside from that you had to make sure the meats searing on the grills weren’t charred.

“[Name]-chan, please replace me for cutting the onions,” Eri sobbed, reaching out to you with grabby hands.

“Alright, senpai,” you giggled in reply because Eri was clearly needing a break and watching the meats seared was a great break for her. Quickly, you stood on her place and started slicing the tear-induced-menaces after washing your hands.

It didn’t take long for you to suffer the same fate as the Ubugawa’s manager–the first seven slices went through without a hitch, but when you reached the tenth your eyes started to sting and blurry from the pain. Then tears began trailing down your cheeks, and you wiped it you’re your shirt sleeve.

“D-Don’t cry, [Name]-san!!” you looked up, seeing Hinata with his place face quivering on his feet. “W-what should I do!?”

“It’s fine, Shoyo-kun, it’s just the onions,” you sniffled pointed towards the bowl full of it. “It hurts my eyes.”

“I can take your place, Otohaku-chan!” Lev popped up beside Hinata.

“Instead of cutting the onions, you’ll chop your fingers off,” Yaku deadpanned before offering. “Here, let me do it.”

“No, it’s alright, Yaku-san,” you shook your head. “It’s time for you to have a break, not working.”

Being persistent sometimes has it’s perks, it took numbers of rejection to finally have Yaku gave up. You knew he was just trying to help, but you didn’t want to rob his time relaxing. When all the preparations were done, the boys were already surrounding the grills with hungry faces. Coach Nekomata gave them a light speech along with praises for their hard work over the week, and they dived to grab on the meat straight from the grill.

“THANKS FOR THE FOOD!”

Just like Kaori, you brought a plate of rice balls to offer and managed to witnessed Yukie’s enormous appetite. She practically inhaled four rice balls in one go and you’re not the only who was dumbfounded from it.

.

.

Konoha and Komi almost had their souls went to heaven from the frightening circle Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Taketora made. Well, they did elbow each other to encourage one another getting close or at least having a talk with Shimizu. The girl walked pass them holding a paper plate with food–looking extremely gorgeous and she didn’t even try.

“That was scary,” Konoha muttered underneath his breath. The three finally stopped because of Karasuno and Nekoma’s captain scolded them–the three immediately shrunk.

“They really had their guard up, huh,” Komi added, feeling his energy drained from such a scary encounter.

“Uhm, excuse me,” the two turned to look over their shoulder and that’s when they noticed–Karasuno’s other first year manager who’s Bokuto constantly talking about. The owl captain wouldn’t shut up about her much to their annoyance and now they knew why.

“Would you like some rice ball?”

“Sure,” Konoha replied dumbly.

“I’ll take two,” Komi followed with a daze. You placed one on Konoha’s empty paper plate and two for Komi upon his request. Smiling at them, you proceeded to excuse yourself so you could offer to someone else.

Following your figure dazedly, they noticed how the light shone even brighter and basked you in a beautiful glow. That’s when they thought of a conclusion.

A goddess just graces us mere mortals! They screamed in their head.

.

.

You tried to calm Yachi down from her traumatizing experience being surrounded by absurdly tall boys (“Titans, [Name]-chan! Titans!”). Thankfully, all of them were nice enough to made room so your friend could reach for some meat. Yachi almost cried in happiness from the real taste of meat.

From the sidelines, Shimizu and the other managers were watching the two of you while talking about the boys sometimes.

“How much are you going to eat?” Kaori questioned because Yukie was having a ridiculous amount of food towering on her plate and she just kept munching away without care.

“The third-years in Karasuno all seems pretty mature,” Mako commented.

“Our ace is weak-willed, though,” Shimizu smiled sheepishly.

“What? Really?” Eri replied in surprise. “Even though he looks that scary?”

“Though, I think that’s still better than our simpleton ace,” Kaori commented. “Still,”

Their eyes were directed towards where the said simpleton ace was standing and placing meat until it towered on your empty plate.

“Eat more, [Name]-chan! Or you won’t get even taller!” he stated.

“And eat more vegetables!” Kuroo added, placing cabbages and carrots to your plate, adding even more food.

“Have some rice balls, too.” Somehow, even Akaashi participated in this whole fiasco and put a rice ball onto your plate. Now, there’s a ridiculous amount of food on your plate.

“…I can’t eat this much,” you commented, staring at the food filling your plate.

“Nonsense, I don’t see you eat anything even when the others are,” Akaashi stated. “You’re too busy handling other things nonstop.”

“Have a break will you,” Kuroo patted your back. “Everyone’s having fun and you should too.”

“Have more meat, [Name]-san!” Hinata said.

“You can have my share, Otohaku-chan!” Lev followed and you immediately shook your head.

“At least he and Akaashi took care of our baby manager well,” Kaori sighed in relief.

“[Name]-chan is close with Fukurodani’s captain and setter, huh? Even Nekoma’s captain,” Mako giggled. “She’s drawing everyone in.”

“Well, it’s rare for a first-year to be as tall as her,” Eri grinned. “The boys are especially poles so it’s probably great not to strain their neck once in a while from looking down.”

“Karasuno’s pretty lucky to have her, huh?” Yukie said after swallowing her food.

“Yeah, we are,” Shimizu smiled.

.

.

“Did you have fun?” Sawamura asked you when you’re helping other managers to clean up the remaining plates left behind on the table along with other scraps littering around. He picked up a few paper cups and placed it into the trash bin.

“Definitely,” you answered without hesitation. “Everyone’s so nice, it’s probably the most fun I’ve had.”

“Thank goodness, then,” he gave you a smile.

“I’m really glad I joined the volleyball club,” you commented, grinning.

“And we glad to have you here,” the captain chuckled and replied.

Everything was over by the time the sun started to sink into the horizon–time truly flew by when you enjoyed it. Since Miyagi was quite a distance from Saitama, they needed to depart first or they would be back extremely late at night. Yukie and Eri were fake-crying and joking about refusing to let you go–in the end, you’re all exchanging numbers so you could keep in touch.

“Did you have fun, Otohaku-san?”

“Coincidentally, you asked the same question as my captain, Akaashi-san.” The Fukurodani setter, like before, helping you on carrying the extra luggage in hand although you did tell him it’s only until you reached the stairs. “And to answer, I am. These one week of training camp is fun. Somehow, I don’t want this to be over.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll meet again,” Akaashi replied. “At the Spring Interhigh.”

“I’m sure we will, Akaashi-san.” you smiled. “And thank you for helping me with luggage.”

“[Name]-chan!!” Bokuto bounded over with a grin plastered on his face. “We’ll be waiting at the nationals!”

“Karasuno, Bokuto-san. Otohaku-san doesn’t play volleyball.” Akaashi deadpanned.

“Just agree with me once, Akaashi!”

“Well, whatever he said,” Kuroo piped up, approaching the three of you. “Made sure your team go to the nationals so we could meet again and make the battle came true.”

“I’ll do my best, Kuroo-san.” Then Kuroo reached out to ruffle your hair, it’s been a while since he did that and you weren’t even going to lie about enjoying it. The cat captain was similar to an older brother now.

“Off you go then, [Name],” he removed his hand from your head. “And don’t miss me.”

“How could I when I have your phone number, Kuroo-san?” you snickered. “You’re probably going to bombard me with chemistry puns at 10pm.”

“Then, I’m gonna call you every day so you won’t have to deal with Kuroo!” Bokuto declared before laughing victoriously.

“Please block his number immediately, Otohaku-san,” Akaashi stated. “Or you won’t be getting any sleep. His talking is endless.”

“Why, Akaashi!?” the said boy whined.

“Aside from that, be careful on your way home,” Akaashi decided to ignore the captain and gave you a small smile.

You returned his smile. “Will do, Akaashi-san.”

With that, the whole week of summer training camps has come to an end. The whole team watched you guys drove away into the other way back to Miyagi.

.

.

“You have a match tomorrow, don’t you?” former Coach Ukai questioned, brows creased from the insistence of your combi. “That’s probably enough, then!”

“One more! Just one more!” Hinata pleaded.

“We’ll finish after this one!” Kageyama added.

Two days of practicing to prepare for the preliminaries, just a day before the match Sawamura dismissed them early to get some rest. Since it would be impossible to use the gym unless getting an earful from him, Kageyama and Hinata needed to look for another place. Former Coach Ukai lent them the court only for a bit, just until the others who wants to practice comes.

And you were there to hold a leash if they’re being stubborn or something.

“This is the last, alright?” you scolded the two. “We shouldn’t bother the others who wants to practice here. And you should rest before the match.”

Thankfully the older man letting them had the court just one more time and you couldn’t help but feeling grateful of it. You sighed before turning to face former Coach Ukai and bowed down. “On their behalf, I apologize.”

“It’s fine.” Former Coach Ukai dismissed it. “Their eagerness is a great thing, but even eagerness isn’t going to magically give them energy. It would be bad if they burnt out even before the game started.”

“[Name]-san! Can you throw us the ball?” Hinata called out.

In the end, the two managed to successfully killed the quick–and sure enough, it also impressed former Coach Ukai which added more reassurance that your team would be more than okay to face the entire preliminaries and became champions.

[mooni-bunni]

AOT with a Black S/O

A/N: There are SO many characters I want to do so this is definitely going to be a part one. Please know that I’m going off of MY ✨black experience✨ so if I mention something that you don’t do or experience, then idk, write your own. 🤨

CW: Modern AU, Black!Reader, Reader is female oriented,

TW: some light racism mentions.

Eren Jaeger

I’m going to start this off by saying Eren is completely into ethnic women.

If it’s not the way your skin glows under the summer sun, it’s definitely the goddamn brown eyes that are just BEAUTIFUL MAN.

He won’t say it, but he is such a nerd for learning more about your culture. Learns a lot about black history and excitedly tells you the new stuff he learned. He gets so happy when he learns about inventions by black people too.

He gets really mad about a lot of social issues though. He’s a really good listener when it comes to you voicing your feelings about something that’s happened in the community. Definitely an unapologetic activist.

Take him to a predominantly black church, watch him be all awkward but tapping his toes. He’ll tell you after that he really enjoyed it and had a lot of fun. He may not be feeling the Holy Ghost, but he is definitely going with you on sunday just to enjoy it with you

Over all, he just loves you so much, he gets to experience so,etching new every single day and he loves it. Especially when it comes to music, food, and clothing. Dress him up please, he likes it. Use him as a wig stand too.

Armin Arlert

Please, he was doing research on black culture before you were even dating. 🤨🖐🏾

When you started dating, you were definitely surprised by how much he actually knows about black culture. It’s all because he wanted to make sure he never says anything to you that makes you upset. If he has questions about something, he is going right to those books and the internet. He’s also not afraid to ask you questions but he would prefer to not burden you with the responsibility of educating him.

If you grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood, he tries his best to make you feel comfortable about being your most authentic self and not washing yourself down for him. He doesn’t like it when you hold yourself back or fix your speech so that he can understand you better, he’ll fight you to be yourself. USE YOUR AAVE AND TEACH HIM.

He really likes the way you talk. He takes note of any little inflectional accented letters in the words you speak. He will use words like “bussin” and “Chile” in the wrong way, so please just… stop him, he’s trying his best.

He’s also really into African American protective hairstyles and why they are important

Definitely sits down with you and helps you with your hair. He’s not the best with it, but he is definitely helpful. Like he’ll at least hold stuff for you or let you use his hand as the pallet for the grease or gel. If you’re a wig wearer, he likes being the model while you shape it. If you’ve got an Afro, he’s buying you the cutest bonnets to wear at night.

Mikasa Ackerman

The thing she loves so much about you is how she’s able to swap cultural experiences with you. 🥺

She grew up in a half Asian household and has a lot of things to share. The fact that she gets to mix her culture with yours is incredible to her. Especially with food because traditional Japanese dishes with traditional African American foods is fun to combine

She is really into r&b music, too. Swapping music with her is so much fun because she finds some new artists she’s never heard of before. She really likes Destiny’s Child

Asks you a lot of questions, too. It’s always light hearted and she means so well. She wants to know more about your family, the dynamic, what kinds of struggles you went through, the celebrations.

Bring her to parties and family functions, she is a visual and hands on learner.

Calls you beautiful every single day. There’s not a single thing about you that she doesn’t love.

Jean Kirschtein

Jean definitely gets quite the culture shock when you first start living together.

Mainly because of the food. He is not used to any cuisine that as a little spice in it. The first time you cool all the fixings for him, he is overwhelmed. It smells so good and some is familiar, but he’s never had them in this way.

He’s eating all of it anyways honey. He’s telling you it’s BUSSIN. Every fuckin meal, bro, he is saying it. Y’all can’t even go to cookouts because he says it so loud, tell him to STOP. (But don’t because it sounds funny and he’s just trying to express his love for soul food.)

OH AND DANCING. BRO. He learns a lot about how dances were ripped off from black people and he asks you to teach him the correct way to do it, if you know how. If not, he’ll happily teach you. He loves the history of it, too.

He is very active as an ally and does a lot of work to make sure the community you guys live in is accepting and safe for you and everyone else.

It really does take him a minute to get into the swing of daily life, but he is so happy he met you and that you let him in.

Sasha Braus

You already know I’m going to say food with this girl.

The way she is tearing up a plate the first time you cook food for her is a little animalistic. She licks that shit CLEAN. Some soul food at a party is going to be nonexistent if you bring her.

She may not be the brightest girl, but movies are definitely her thing. She likes it when you show her some movies directed by black people like Jordan Peele or Tyler Perry. One of her favorite movies is Dream Girls.

She also asks a lot of questions. (Ahem, her with Onyankopon…) It’s always her trying to learn more but they sometimes come off as a little uhhhhh… you know…. Like that. Don’t worry though, explain things to her and she is immediately apologetic for even asking.

You might have to teach her a few things though, I’m not gonna lie.

Take her to a family reunion or a Juneteenth celebration party, trust me she’ll enjoy herself.

Levi Ackerman

Surprisingly the thing he enjoys the best is the music.

You’d think with his classical tea loving ass, he’d be a little weary with the music, but no! He actually really likes old hip hop and rap. New age is not his favorite, but he likes artist like Tupac, Biggie, Jay Z, Old Kanye. Don’t be surprised to see him rapping randomly. I’ll stand by this.

He’s also really good with hair. Like surprisingly good with it. Like, he could actually just do your hair and you will probably never have to go to a salon ever.

He saw you struggling with yours one morning and noticed how expensive it was for you to get yours done, so he literally went out to any black owned salon and asked if they could teach him how it’s done. For weeks he just spent his free time learning how to do textured hair, which products were good, which ones were harmful, how to style, all of it. He came home one day and saw you booking an appointment to get yours done and told you he could do it. Success.

He also learns your favorite soul food meals. Spends time with your family to learn how you like it.

Overall, Levi isn’t great with words but he shows you he loves you by doing these extravagant things for your that’s how you know he cares about you and how important your heritage is.

A/N: this was so cute wahhh. Idk why I’m worried about being canceled when I’m black- also sorry for any typos I miss.

[luxwritesfanfic]

On Tap

Sherlock insists that it would work better with the reader on top and after the night they’ve had, there’s no point in arguing. Or, the one where reader plays superhero for poor Greg and her beloved detective. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You hadn’t even taken your shoes off when your phone started ringing in your purse. Sighing, you dug around for it with one hand and reached for the lightswitch with the other. Work had been incredibly stressful since you were working short during flu season and everyone in London had been feeling under the weather apparently. You had told your coworkers that if they really needed you that you would come back even though you had put a solid 16 hours in. Sherlock and John had gone out for John’s bachelor party so you didn’t mind working late, and Bucky was visiting his brother in the States so all your time was truly yours. You had thought about soaking in the bath or catching up on that show you always missed, but all of those thoughts were stopped in their tracks when the ringing persisted.

“Hey, what’s up?” You tried not to sound like you’d rather chew on glass than clock one more minute into the hospital but you weren’t sure you were so convincing.

“Come get him. Please, for the love of God, come get him.” At hearing Greg’s voice, you were both relieved yet confused. Sherlock must’ve invited him last minute to celebrate with them, you didn’t remember him saying that he was coming along.

“Oh, I didn’t know you went out with the boys! Where are you guys?” It was nice to know they were all having a good time. You liked Greg and thought he was a really good friend for Sherlock and John. You had plopped down on the couch and had started pulling one of your shoes off when he said, “No, I didn’t go with them. They were brought to me. Someone called the cops on them and now I’ve got tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum arguing about the solar system and taking turns puking in my waste bin. Please, I beg of you, come get him. Matter of fact, I can bring him home. If that makes the process quicker--- I mean easier.” You heard Sherlock trying to take Greg’s phone in the background, asking to talk to you and then quickly after arguing with John once more if it was really that important he knew they orbited the sun. Greg sounded just as exhausted as you felt and you could only imagine how annoyed he was by the drunk detective that he was already annoyed with most of the time sober.

“Yeah, yeah of course I’ll come get him. I’m actually at my flat though, so if you could meet me at his place that would be awesome. I’d just need a few minutes to finish up here...” You mourned the hot bath you were never going to get to take and worked on shoving the shoe you just took off back on, “did you call Mary for John?”

“Yes, she’ll be over soon. As soon as she gets here, I’ll bring Sherlock. You’re doing the Lord’s work, thank you.” With that, he hung up and you went to your room to pack an overnight bag. You were exhausted and if you had to go all the way to Sherlock’s, it would be easier for you to crash on the couch than to try to come back home late.

By the time you got to Sherlock’s, you were dragging your feet up the stairs and you could barely keep your eyes open. You had received a text from Mary when she picked John up saying “good luck” and you wished you knew what you were walking into. You had never seen Sherlock drunk, or heard any stories of him being drunk, but you were sure he was even more eccentric than he was sober. If you weren’t so tired, you’d be jumping with joy at the experience to see Sherlock so out of character. 

You went into Sherlock’s room and laid out some pajamas for him and went ahead and put a water bottle and some Advil on his nightstand because you were sure he would need it. After doing that, you changed into something more comfortable too and rummaged through his fridge to see if there was anything to eat. Thumbs, unsalted butter, and milk that shouldn’t look like blue cheese was what was on the menu and you had decided sleep for dinner sounded much more appetizing. You’d go shopping for him tomorrow.

Greg had texted that he was outside but Sherlock didn’t have his key so you made your way down the steps to meet them. Upon opening the door, Sherlock looked up at you like he hasn’t seen you in ages. He stumbled towards you and held you at arms length with a look of wonder on his face. “Finally! Y/N, I was thinking I’d die from being surrounded by total stupidity, and here you are. Ever the shining light and the beacon of hope.”

You felt the heat from his stare and turned to Greg to try and keep your composure under all his attention. “Uh.. I— thank you. For bringing him home.”

Still staring at Sherlock and shocked by his outburst, Greg met your eyes with a knowing smile. “It’s no trouble. He’s your problem now. Good luck, my dear.” He was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving you with a very drunk Sherlock Holmes and a dozen steps to climb.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together, turning towards the door, “do you think you can get up the stairs? Or do you want me to help you?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he started until his eyes widened like he forgot who he had been talking to. It had only been a second but he saw the look that flashed across your face. You hated when he made you feel dumb because you always tried so hard to keep up with him, and he knew that. You didn’t have a chance to react before he quickly interrupted. His previous statement was immediately followed by, “I’m sorry. Forgive me. Please help me.”

You just nodded, unsure of what made him have such a quick change of heart but you were happy he did. You hated him thinking you were dumb. In comparison to him, maybe, but you were intelligent in your own right and you did a better job of keeping up with him than most. He threw his arm around your shoulders to steady himself and allowed you to lead him carefully up the stairs. He started telling you about his night and it honestly sounded like he had a great time, and so did John. You were really happy that it all worked out even if they did end up with Greg at the end of it all.

As soon as the back of Sherlock’s legs hit his chair, he was down in a clean swoop and you took the opportunity to start untying his shoes. He seemed like he was lost in thought and was quiet for a few moments but you could tell from the way he was swaying that he was too far gone to sober up before the morning.

“I already put your clothes out for you and I’ll help you to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’ll love me for that in the morning.” You smiled at him as you pulled off his loafers and moved to stand up so that you could figure out how you were going to get him out of his chair.

“Will I, though? Will I tomorrow once I’m in my right mind?” He asked, and while he didn’t say it in an ignorant tone, it sounded like Sherlock, and that was close enough.

You looked at him hoping he’d say something else. But he didn’t, and he looked back at you with a look of confusion as if he was really expecting you to answer that. It seemed like just last week he was in your bed trying to convince you that he didn’t have eyes for anyone besides you and now he’s reminding you that he’s not even sure of that. Sherlock could have you at the top of the poll and then have you kissing the ground in the same hour if he tried.

“It’s just a saying. I didn’t really mean...you know, let’s— let’s just get you to bed. It’s late and you have a date with a hangover in the morning.” You could tell he was on the verge of passing out which was good in the way of no more awkward conversations but horrible in that you’d never get him into bed as dead weight. So you pushed things along and eventually got him in bed before he was out like a light.

Draping the blanket over him, you watched as his eyes fluttered behind his lids and how his lips twitched as fell into a deeper sleep and you were sure then that you would never love anyone more. You would never understand how he didn’t realize how beautiful he made the ordinary and how easily he made everything extraordinary. Afraid that you’d turn to stone if you spent any more time staring at him, you turned off his light and made your way to the living room where the the couch had never looked more inviting. It didn’t take you long to get settled in and asleep seeing as the TV in the background ended up being the perfect thing to mask Sherlock’s drunk snores and you had never been more tired in your life.

—

“I thought you were staying over?”

It had only been a few hours since you  had put Sherlock to bed when he found himself looking over you on the couch, wrapped up in his bedsheet.

“M’right here.” You murmured into the pillow, body still turned away from Sherlock on the couch. He was probably still drunk and you were hoping if you laid still enough he’d wander back to bed.

He didn’t respond to you, instead he continued to stand and stare with his lips pursed and brows furrowed. You had drifted back off only to be nudged awake once more.

“I won’t fit like that.” He gestured with the hand not holding the sheet to the couch, sounding exasperated like he had been explaining this to you all night. “It’ll only work if you’re on top, so get up so I can lie down first.”

You didn’t process what he said really, you just knew that if he was being persistent and you didn’t do as he asked he’d never let you go back to bed. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the light and swung your legs off the couch, standing on stiff bones. Sherlock immediately made to get comfortable on the couch while you stood dazed and confused and he cleared his throat expectantly when he had finally got settled. He was on his back with one arm holding the sheet up between himself and the back of the couch allowing room for you to climb over and snuggle right into him.

All you could do was blink and hold his stare as he waited expectantly, still holding the sheet for you. You didn’t think he was asking you to lay with him, especially with how close you’d two be. Sure, you shared your bed before, but there was always enough room for you both to have your own space. You could tell he was getting embarrassed by your reaction, or lack there of.

“I didn’t think this would be rocket science, even for someone like you.” His nervousness was showing as he yanked his arm back down and curled into to himself like a child. You jumped into action so you wouldn’t upset him any more and shook his shoulder as you whined, partially from exhaustion and from missing the chance to sleep next to him.

“I’m tired, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize what you were asking. Come on, open up. Let me in.” You continued to shake at his shoulder until he looked back at you. He looked wrecked from drinking all night and you knew this bout of sobriety wouldn’t be as easy on him in the morning but you were sure he looked holy.

Sherlock reluctantly brought his arm up again and you wasted no time sliding under the sheet and tucking yourself under the crook of his arm. He smelled like beer and mouthwash and Sherlock and you thought you were going to go into cardiac arrest when he brought his arm back down on you, subsequently pinning you down to him. It was definitely a tight fit especially since the couch barely fit Sherlock but you had decided that if you had the opportunity to sleep with him like this every night that you would. Back pain be damned.

The steadiness of his heartbeat was already working you back to sleep. Sighing content, you let your body fully relax and sink further into him.

“You never answered my question.” He shifted next to you and kept you close to him all the same, his head leaning to rest on yours.

“Hmm?” You made an incoherent sound, your breath evening out as you fell asleep.

“My question,” he whispered more so to himself as he worked it out in his head. The feelings he found himself harboring for you were ones he had never felt before. He thought  so highly of you in a way he couldn’t understand even if he wasn’t the best at expressing it. You were patient with him when he got on your last nerve and was amazed by him when other people would tell him to piss off. You were always kind and warm and made him feel human even after he spent so long separating himself from his feelings. He couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at anyone else the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

So yes, he thought. Yes, he would love you in the morning. He’d love you when you’re angry with him for putting himself at risk during a case and he’d love you when you were overly tired and petulant after he made you stay up all night to keep him company in the lab. He loved that you valued him regardless of what he offered you, and that you always showed him that even if he never reciprocated it. You were never embarrassed by him, you always tried to learn about what he was interested in, and you never doubted him even when he was wrong.

Girlfriends weren’t naturally his area... but he didn’t think he would mind if it was you. He liked being close to you and physical touch wasn’t something he had sought out often before. He found that he chased the opportunity to be near you at all times. He thought you looked lovely in scrubs and a lab coat and even lovelier in your everyday wear, even if you considered it plain. He had begun to notice the way other people stared at you when you walked by and it left him with the most unsettling feeling. But then you’d smile at him and despite himself he’d smile right back and he wondered if anything in the world mattered to you besides him. Because in those moments, nothing mattered to him besides you.

Sherlock woke up alone again the next morning with the worst headache he’d ever had. Light was shining through the curtains and he cursed the sun for rising another day as he covered his eyes and groaned. Peaking through his fingers, he saw that the Advil and water had been moved to the coffee table for him and when he reached out for it he noticed the note on the table. He sat up with one hand gingerly holding his head as he read it.

“Got called into work to help the girls. John and Mary are coming over for lunch, so text me what you want me to bring home. We can’t serve our best friends buttered thumbs for lunch. I’ll see you soon!

  -Y/N xx”

He held the note in his hand, contemplating what his next move would be. You were interested in him, that he knew for sure. He’d contemplated casually mentioning to everyone that you were dating, but he technically hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend and you two had never talked about any mutual feelings. Maybe he’d kiss you when walking you to your taxi, but he knew he’d make you stay with him instead of letting you go home. Possibly tonight when you were laying in his bed he’d tell you it had to be you, it could only ever be you.

Leaning back against the couch, he rubbed at his eyes and decided he’d call John over early and he’d help him sort it out. John always helped him. Standing up was harder than it looked apparently, as Sherlock wobbled to the side and fought the urge to puke. Perhaps he should shower first, surely you wouldn’t say yes to being his if he didn’t look his best.

He remembered how he looked and acted last night and winced. On second thought, maybe you would. You had already given yourself to him for better or for worse and soon enough, he smiled, he would give you himself in return.

[venusiangguk]

may we see the fight tae oc scene pls pls please!!! u can delete later🤔🤔🤔🤔😳😳😳😳 i’m really curious. i mean ofc u don’t have to. still 😧🙃

idealizations concerning real life relations: deleted scene

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / icrlr!couple

>>genre: fwb, angst, rated PG

>>word count: 2.5k

>>warnings: alcohol, implied smut

>>notes: this is a deleted scene from icrlr, that i omitted simply because of the length of the final fic!! feel free to skip or ignore, it doesn't change anything, but since u guys are curious about it, i'll post it as a lil ty for helping me hit that milestone <3 it takes place after the tattoo party scene, and before the lecture scene.

this does NOT provide an alternative ending.

>>summary: taehyung tries to make you see things for what they really are, but it's hard to see through the rose colored glasses.

Winter break has been long awaited and it is finally, finally here. The snow has coated the ground thick, making the town look like a winter wonderland. The air is sharp and cold but not to a miserable extent. Just chilly enough to bundle up, to hold a hand a little tighter and soak up their warmth.

Your favorite season is fall, but the later months are a close second. You love seeing the way everyone’s faces get red when snow flurries come down to kiss their nose and cheeks. Love the way pom poms bounce atop little hats as children play and have snowball fights. Winter is surprisingly one of the warmest, sweetest times of the year. Like the hot coco Jeongguk has been swapping your regular macchiato with lately.

There’s a greatly anticipated party tonight- a mashup of Taehyung’s birthday and New Year’s Eve. Anticipated for the simple fact that said birthday boy has steadily been ignoring you for weeks, and tonight was a night where he couldn’t evade your attempts of reconciliation. He hasn’t returned a single call or even sent a text back. You can’t even be mad at him really, you know it’s justified. You know you fucked up. The coffee date you had with Yoongi last week let you know what you did.

Over an iced coffee, you learned that you had unintentionally skipped out on your best friend's Winter Showcase. The important one that he mentioned multiple times. The one you promised to attend no matter what.

It wasn’t on purpose; you wanted to go, to support him. But you just got caught up. In life, in school, in Jeongguk. It happens.

When Yoongi asked you why you had missed it, when he told you how hurt Taehyung was by your absence, your heart dropped, sank deep within your chest as your mouth fell open before closing, a small pursed frown on your lips. You didn’t have a good excuse. You went to get tattoos with Jeongguk and then to a party where you fucked him, and then home after that? You were too tired to make it? You just simply forgot? Those excuses weren’t good enough for you and you knew they wouldn’t be good enough for Taehyung.

Whereas Yoongi was okay with distance, long periods in between hanging out and talking, Taehyung wasn’t. He was the kind of friend that needed support, reassurance that you cared. He liked quality time and hangs outs that were planned ahead so he could look forward to them. He was looking forward to you being at his showcase.

The party is packed, even more so than usual. Students, drop-outs, alumni, and randoms alike, all congregate to bring in the new year, to celebrate the end of finals, and a certain art majors birthday. Bodies are on bodies, music is loud and deafening. Cups, bottles, and small baggies litter the floor and the smell of weed is nauseating.

Jeongguk’s hand in yours is sweet, though. Enough to ebb the distaste in your mouth as you watch the stereotypical disaster that is a college party.

“I’m going to go find the drinks, okay?” you lie, squeezing Jeongguk’s hand lightly.

He squeezes back, kisses the side of your head as he says, “Bring me one back too?”

You nod, and slip out of his view. Scanning the crowd until you see a familiar face.

Jimin is laughing, red cup in his hand, eyes curled and happy. He’s sitting on the arm of a couch, legs swinging as he laughs with a group of people. He takes a drink from his cup and let’s his eyes roam the room like he’s looking for someone.

The way his face changes when he sees you approaching is like a punch in the gut. It goes from happy, and carefree to stony- only a small, irritated, close-lipped smile on his face. Eyes harsh and cold, no longer holding the mirth they were just seconds ago. He says nothing when you step in front of him, he just looks you over like he’s bored and waiting for you to get on with it so he can be done with it.

You shift on your feet under his scrutiny. “Where’s Tae?” you ask.

Jimin narrows his eyes at you and tilts his head. “Now you want to know where he is? Haven’t been concerned with his whereabouts for months. Definitely weren’t worried about it last week.”

You wince but carry on swiftly. “Listen, I know I fucked up. I’m here to apologize.” You look at him expectantly, but he holds his ground. When he doesn’t falter, you resort to begging, “Please, Jimin. He’s my best friend… I miss him.”

You must look pitiful, because Jimin’s indifferent facade fades, and he clicks his tongue like he’s annoyed at himself for giving into you. “He’s getting us drinks in the kitchen.”

A smile takes over your face as you rush out a ‘thank you’, quickly turning on your heel to head in the opposite direction, before Jimin calls after you.

“Yeah?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“If he’s your best friend, maybe treat him like it, yeah?”

You continue to the kitchen without replying, and you can’t help the little simmer of annoyance that bubbles in your chest. Taehyung has been your best friend for years. And even though Jimin had a point, who was he to tell you anything about yours and Taehyung’s friendship?

Before the thought can fester, however, you see the boy you came looking for, two bottles of vodka in his hand like he’s trying to decide which to use. You see the little party hat atop his shaggy hair before anything else and your heart aches a little. You really did miss him. He lets out a small annoyed sound, and knowing him, he’s probably trying to figure out which has the highest alcohol percentage. You come up next to him, and say his name gently. He jumps, but when he realizes it’s you, the ghost of a smile curls on his lips like he’s happy to see you.

Until it’s replaced with resentment just as quickly. His sharp eyes squint at you before turning back to the bottles in his hands, scowl still in place.

“So you decided you could pencil me in between getting your heart toyed with and your back blown out?” He gives you a side glance and sees how your jaw drops in surprise. He carries on, unbothered. “Or did this just work out because it coincides with New Year’s and because he was invited? Only because he’s Jimin’s friend might I add.”

“Tae-” you try, doing your best to keep the hurt whine out of your tone.

“Save it, __. I don’t want to hear the excuses you have. Just-” he looks at you again, and you think that maybe he softens when he sees your crestfallen features. He sighs like he’s tired. “Just leave me alone. Just for a bit, okay? I’ll get over it eventually,” he finishes, finally deciding on the vodka he wants.

You know his request isn't unreasonable. But it’s already been so long that the distance in your friendship has been eating away at it, that you’re scared ‘eventually’ might take too long and by the time he comes around, there won’t be much of a friendship left. That the damage done, will be irreparable.

“Tae… It’s already been months, can’t we-”

Like night and day, the softness that you were able to pull out of him is immediately replaced with that resentment and anger you were met with when you first stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he seethes, strong brows furrowed. “And whose fault is that?”

His words are sharp and the sting from them makes you take a step back. That is, until you feel anger of your own creep up your throat like venom. “You’re one to talk, Taehyung. You could have reached out to me, too. You’re no better than me when you’re in a relationship.”

He groans, gives an exasperated laugh before shrugging. “You know what? Maybe I am just as bad as you, but at least I’m actually in a relationship,” he spits, “You’re just fucking someone that doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

You know he’s hurt because of the distance. That he doesn’t intend to be so mean. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less, and it doesn’t stop the angry tears from pooling in your eyes.

And although you’re angry, almost shaking with rage at the feeling of being cornered and blamed, your heart aches at hearing his words.

Jimin, who started seeing Taehyung after you started seeing Jeongguk, had already made your friend official. Had given him the title, the commitment, the relationship that you had been patiently and understandingly waiting for with Jeongguk. The bitterness that bleeds into your heart makes you feel gross and ugly.

You know what they say; that labels are superficial and don’t mean that much. But when you don’t have them? It makes you wonder. If a label really isn’t that important, like everyone says, why is Jeongguk so reluctant to give one to you?

“Jimin’s your boyfriend?” you whisper.

Taehyung gives you a short nod. “Month and half ago. You would’ve known if you got your head out of Jeongguk’s ass.”

Almost like he was summoned, the topic of debate waltz into the room, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He nuzzles into your neck.

It’s instinctual now, the way your body responds to him. The way you melt into his chest like second-nature, how your hands settle over his like they are keeping them in place. How immediately in his presence you feel calmer; the panicky, hurt feeling you were experiencing moments ago vanishing as if it were just a fleeting thought and not something that’s always in the back of your head.

Not in a possessive, ‘I need him to be mine’ kind of way, though.

More like, ‘Why won’t he be mine?’

“Hi,” he murmurs into your neck.

“Hi, baby,” you respond softly, out of habit. The room shirks around you whenever he’s near. Makes you feel like you’re in your own bubble with him.

Jeongguk’s about to reply, ask where the drinks are, but then he hears an annoyed scoff sound in front of you both. Jeongguk bristles as he looks up and sees Taehyung taking a big swig from his cup.

“Uh- am I interrupting? Should I go?” he asks hesitantly, looking between you and your friend.

“No-” you say at the same time that Taehyung says, “Yes.”

You cringe, and turn in Jeongguk’s arms, hands resting on his chest. “Just give me a couple more minutes okay? I’ll bring the drinks.”

Jeongguk searches your eyes, before looking at Taehyung one last time before giving you a stern nod and a quick kiss.

You turn back to Taehyung, ready to apologize for Jeongguk’s interruption, when he talks over you.

“You’re pathetic,” he starts, and you roll your eyes with an irritated sigh before he continues, “but I know you love him. And that you can’t help it,” he shrugs. “But as your friend, I have to tell you that it’s not going to end well. You probably don’t even need me to tell you that. You probably already know and are choosing to ignore it for the sake of the delusions you’ve made up in your ‘pretty little head’.”

You pout at him quoting you, and your brows furrow. “He cares about me. And he’s Jimin’s best friend. He’s a good person, you don’t even know him,” you argue defensively. Though you know your arguments make little sense and are flimsy at best.

Taehyung frowns. Pauses like he’s thinking.

“I didn’t say he was a bad person, and maybe he does care about you in his own messed up way. But he doesn’t care about you in the way that you want him to.” His lips are still down turned when he speaks again.

“And the difference between him with you and him with Jimin is astronomical; it shouldn’t even be a comparison, but I will humor you,” he rubs a hand up and down his face like he’s tired. “The dynamic is completely different, for obvious reasons. For one, Jimin is a safe relationship. You are not. Jimin isn’t in love with him, Jimin isn’t sucking his dick, and Jimin doesn’t want things from Jeongguk that Jeongguk cannot give, or does not want to give,” he says with a raised brow as he takes a sip of his drink.

It seems that the anger has died down some between you both, a semi-civil conversation finally being had. You wrinkle your brows in confusion at him. “What are you talking about?”

He rolls his eyes. “Cmon __. Why do you think he hasn’t made you his girlfriend? Why do you think he literally has not been in a serious relationship since high school? Why do you think he never agrees to anything more than 2 months out?” He waits for you to answer but you just purse your lips stubbornly. “He’s scared. Dare I say terrified of commitment, and that’s exactly what you want from him right?”

You stay headstrong and quiet for a moment longer, ignoring his question in favor of asking one of your own when you finally do speak up. “If I’m so scary, why hasn’t he left?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Fuck if I know? Maybe he does care about you like you say he does. I don’t think so, but hey,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, like he is throwing in the figurative towel. “Maybe you’re right and maybe I‘m wrong. Or maybe there’s some fucked up codependency fermenting between you both when you copulate. I genuinely have no clue, and frankly, I don’t care to find out. Don’t text me until you come to your senses. And don’t get mad when I tell you ‘I told you so’.”

And with that, he turns and leaves you to make your own drinks. You hope the smile you give Jeongguk when you find him is believable.

That night when you go back to his place, you voice your concerns to him in between sweet, heated kisses that taste like hot cider. You tell him hesitantly how Taehyung voiced his concerns about Jeongguk not caring about you and Jeongguk got a little irritated, a little miffed as he unlatched his lips from your neck. He asked what Taehyung knew, how he even came to that conclusion when he’s not around you both.

He assured you with gentle touches and tender words that of course he cares about you. He reminded you that he always makes time for you, he always answers your calls and your texts, he takes you out every now and then, too. He asks you what you think and when you contemplate your answer, going over what he said, you can’t really argue with him. Even if an uneasy, dismal feeling settles in the pit of your tummy.

~~~

hellooo!! again, this is just a scene and part of the plot that i chose not to use because i felt like the fic was already so long. i wish that i had ended up including it tho, so i hope you enjoyed even though its nothing special <3 feel free to do the things if you liked it: like, comment, reblog, send an ask~~ love u, ty again for helping me reach that milestone <3

[omiscurls]

hmm this is like my first time responding to a request thing so here goes: (slight webtoon spoilers!!)—- imagine if you/reader finds out about kaeyas secret accidentally, before he told diluc. how would he react to that? i’ve given some thought into it and i’d love to see your perspective!

dark whispers

plot: hurt/comfort, reader finds out about kaeya's secret before anyone else

contains: kaeya

warnings: WEBTOON SPOILERS, the story takes place before the start of the game, approximately 5-6 years, alcohol, acting under the influence, you can even say underage drinking, curse words

the sun had long set behind the mountains adoring the territories of mondstadt city. it's people had already closed their shops, workshops and businesses, having gone home to their families, many of them possibly already drifting off to sleep.

some individuals, as everyday, be it a workday, weekend, or a holiday, decided to go entertain themselves with different kinds of alcohol at the local tavern.

but to some of the mondstadt folk, that day, that evening was a special one, for it was a celebration of the ever so famous master crepus' adoptive son, kaeya, turning seventeen.

the night fell special even for regular customers, not only the ones celebrating, for it was rare for the master of the dawn winery himself to pour drinks and serve them at his establishment. for the birthday of his son, though, he had abandoned his normal nightly duties, and stood behind the counter for a good couple of hours, giving one speech and joining everyone in singing happy birthday for the young knight.

he had gone home around an hour ago, leaving the happy, slightly drunk bunch of customers in the hands of a younger bartender.

"alright" kaeya's older brother, and cerpus' firstborn, diluc, had made everyone quiet with the way he clapped his hands, a sly smirk on his lips as he looked his friend and brother in the eyes. diluc, being older, already knew the taste and... other qualities of alcohol a little better than the blue-haired boy, so he found nothing but amusement in the way kaeya couldn't find balance on his chair, or in how his eyes just wouldn't focus on one spot, instead wandering around the walls and ceiling of the tavern. "kaeya" he called out, making the boy face him with a dumbfounded look. "you're one round of shots behind me"

kaeya's expression changed to distressed within seconds, as he examined the three glasses before his eyes, wondering if he'll even fit those in his stomach.

"is yer head made out of stone or sum?" he slurred out "how're ya this sober?"

diluc laughed, pointing to the glasses.

"less complaining, more bottoming these out" he rushed, arms crossing at his chest, as he leaned back on his chair and observed his little brother struggle to make the decision.

"go to hell" kaeya mumbled, emptying the drinks one by one, a grimmace coming to his face right after he had laid the last glass back on the table. "what even is that?" he asked, unamused, as diluc responded happily:

"firewater."

a smile of satisfaction painted the redhead's face.

"what?" kaeya's eyes widened "how'd you even get this past father?" he leaned lower on the table, studying diluc's expression. „that’s like, forty percent sheer alcohol!”

"i have my ways" he responded enigmatically, and kaeya shook his head in resignation.

"aight" the birthday boy took a deep breath "your turn. ya don't want to loose now, do you?" remains of a grin lifted the point of his mouth, as diluc chuckled, pouring the transparent liquid into the glasses yet again.

"what's the prize?" you asked one of their friends, having come late to the scene of the challenge.

"oh, the one to loose has to do the other's chores for a month" the guy responded, eyes not darting away from how diluc managed to empty all three glasses, much to kaeya's dispair.

hours had passed, and everyone slowly left the birthday party, diluc leaving kaeya in your hands, as he helped the bartender clean up the mess the young knights had made. you asked the blue-haired boy if he wanted to get some fresh air, to which he nodded, you can't say eagerly, but nodded nonetheless. so that leaves you to where you were now, slowly walking towards your place, kaeya bumping into your side every now and then as he lost balance.

"did you have fun?" you asked happily, eyes focusing on his face, waiting for a response.

"yea" he murmured, not even sparing you a look.

"poor you, are you that wasted?" you continued, amused, as a hiccup left his throat.

"'m not wasted" he denied instantly. " 't was nice to spend some time with diluc, we all know i don't have much of that left"

your eyebrows furrow in confusion, as you stop in your tracks, making him stop, too. he seemed to have thought this was a normal thing to say, and politely waited for you to start walking again, but you didn't, instead crossing your arms, and asking again.

"what do you mean by that?"

he scoffed, almost rudely. " he's gon' hate me for life, isn't it obvious?" he slurred, head lifting to look on the starry sky, hands going deeper inside his pockets. your expression turned even more confused, as he stared up, acting like it was the most natural thing to say, and like everybody knew this.

"what's he gonna hate you for? he's your brother, he loves you deeply, right?" you wanted to rub his arm, or something, do anything to soothe the feelings that must've been eating him alive, but stayed still.

"brother" he scoffed again. you couldn't possibly see, from the angle his head was at, but hot tears flooded his eyes as he said the word out loud, and the moment of silence that came after, he used to calm down even the slightest bit. "i think that's the most beautiful lie i ever came up with, y'know? brother." he repeated.

"what- what do you mean by that?"

"i've been nothing but a useless homewrecker to his family for as long as i have been in this world. how did i ever find the audacity to call myself his brother? oh my, even i hate my guts for this." he chuckled, painful irony overflowing his voice "and my dearest, short-tempered diluc is gonna flip the fuck out, for sure"

"kaeya" you asked, growing to be scared of how mysteriously he was acting "is there anything you wish to tell me?"

you swallowed a gulp in your throat by saying that, and awaited the reply in stress, even if you didn't know why.

his gaze finally came down from the sky, as he looked at you with a sad smile.

"if it was up to me, i'd wish not to tell a soul anything. but i have been lying for far to long, and my so-called family did nothing to deserve that. nothing, nothing bad, ever, and yet they've been cursed to deal with one like me. truly unfair, the fate of this world. how kindness pays off in nothing but sorrow."

you could tell he was a bit more sober by how his words were more understandable than before, but he was still far from his right mind. you would've stopped him, but there was really no going back now, and you almost needed to hear what secret he was talking about.

"my dearest" he said, addressing you "please, do not get angry with me as well. i don't know what i'd do if i lost even more people than i intend to with this information."

after you nodded in confusion, he explained the story, briefly and in a twisted way, having little control over his slurred words.

you stood there in silence for a good long while as silent tears rolled down from both yours and his eyes.

"i'm sorry" he finally mumbled "i'm sorry, i swear i didn't do what i was designed to do, i didn't tell anyone anything, i didn't attempt to harm anyone. it wasn't my decision to make, i swear, i hold no loyalties to-"

"kaeya" you interrupted him, and he feared for the worst. "that must've been so confusing for the little kid you were"

the worried tone of your voice, the way your words were covered in affection, the way your eyes seemed to care, it all flooded his wrecked soul all too quickly and all to strongly, making him gasp for air, as if it was knocked out of his lungs.

"you- you don't think i'm a-"

"no" you interrupted again, afraid of how he might finish the sentence. "and neither will diluc. i can't promise you he won't be mad, because he probably will, but you're brothers, by blood or not. you're gonna fight and you're gonna make up, because no anger will ever top the love i'm sure he has for you. and if rougher days are really coming your way" you said, approaching him to wrap your arms around his shaky form. "then i'll stand by you to face them with you."

little did you both know. the date of diluc ragnvidr’s 18th was approaching faster than anyone could ever anticipated.

[startanewdream]

Written for @efkgirldetective's Summer of Jily Prompt #7 (Ice cream + "I don't want anybody else touching you like I do).

Tumblr exclusive at the moment because I don't have a title and the 'happy ending' part of the 'angst with a happy ending' was lost somewhere.

Rated M.

I will love to hear your thoughts about this!

_______________

I.

She is at the end of her round, going towards his cabin—her friends’ cabin, though Lily knows exactly who she is hoping to meet there—when she hears it.

‘—and Potter, what a waste. He won’t ever join him.’

‘We should just wipe him away. Blood traitor, muggle lover—’

‘You mean mudblood lover, Severus?’ Avery’s voice is tinted with malice and there are snickers around. ‘Potter and Evans seem pretty close nowadays. Do you think she gives him everything she denied you?’

‘I would never filth myself,’ comes Snape’s cold reply. ‘If he is tainting his blood, all the worse for him.’

Taint his blood. Is this what Lily’s presence does to James? Is she putting him in a danger he didn’t need to be just by being closer to him?

It’s Snape’s words and she shouldn’t listen to him—the days where she would hear him, would admire him, are long gone—but when she finally reaches the cabin (when James grins at the sight of her, bright and warm, and her heart skips a beat and Lily has to smile back), she sits away from James.

‘Anything wrong?’ he asks, familiar enough to read the tension on her face.

‘No, all normal,’ Lily says, and it’s the first lie.

______

II.

It’s summer and everyone is out of age now and apparating makes things so easy that Lily finds herself less and less at home during that break.

She tells herself it’s because she is avoiding the presence of her sister’s annoying fiance; she blames the fact that Dorcas has a beach house and it’s so much better spending days swimming and tanning; she even goes introspective to blame the pressure of the war looming over them in a way that means she needs to enjoy the last summer break before real life gets them.

But she knows the reason is James.

She finds herself gravitating towards him, unable to resist that attraction even as she knows how dangerous it is for him. Once or twice Lily thinks of telling him about it, of warning how he is stupidly raising his stakes by being near her, but she gives up only for the fact that this (might drive him away and she doesn't want it, not really) would probably just make him want to be even closer to her.

And they are already alarmingly close.

Once Lily would have been repulsed by that idea, but one year later everything has changed—James has changed—and everything about him appeals to her. The way he cares for everyone around him. The way he smiles patiently whenever he is explaining something. The way he grins as if to invite the world to share a great funny joke with him. How he runs his hand through his hair when he’s nervous. How he is so expansive that he seems to occupy any room he is in. How he loves flying, even more than Quidditch, and how relaxed he seems when he is on a broom. How he talks to her, taking it seriously when she needs to and making a joke when things get too serious. How he opens up about his own life and doubts and listens to her.

That would make them friends, really good friends, but then Lily’s heart would not stop racing when he’d touched her hand, or when their knees would bump while sitting closely in the library and then she was forced to note all the physical aspects—the muscles of his arms, the shape of full lips, the line of his jaw, the hazel kaleidoscope of his eyes and how fit he was—and give up any belief her feelings were limited to a friendship.

She fancies him, okay.

Except it’s not okay, because it’s dangerous and by now Lily is positive that James knows it too. Everyone knows it.

They end up together, just the two of them, a lot during that summer. It takes Lily a few days to realize it’s not a coincidence that her interests never align with those of her friends—if she wants to swim, somehow it’s only her and James in the sea; at night, even though it’s still so warm, they are the only ones who venture into the pool for a midnight swim, while the others stay stubbornly indoors.

When Lily suggests going to town to grab an ice cream, somehow James is the only one who is in the mood for it, despite the heat.

It’s not on purpose from his part—at least that’s how Lily sees it—but he isn’t refusing her company either and neither is she refusing his, so James’ boldness flourishes that summer. It’s not cocky as it once would be, it’s just a quiet acceptance that something is finally happening between them as if he never stopped believing it would be possible. Lily feels it when he throws his arm around her shoulders when they are sitting close, almost absently, almost not noticing when Lily lays her head over his shoulder; it’s there when he openly gawks the first time he sees her in a swimming suit, only to be nudged in the ribs by Sirius and then complimenting her ('good thing you wear robes at school, Evans, or there wouldn’t be much schoolwork done'). It’s definitely there when he intertwines their hands, pulling her to the sea with him.

And it’s there when they are sitting closer than they would need for a bench so wide, watching seagulls flying over the sea, each one holding an ice cream.

‘Chocolate chips with chocolate cover and chocolate sprinkles,’ James teases. ‘I think you have an addiction, Lily.’

‘Guilty,’ she replies, not ashamed at all, proving her ice cream and very aware of how James is staring at her. ‘It’s better than asking for vanilla ice cream.’

‘Hey!’ He would look deeply offended if not for the grin on his lips. ‘I’ll let you know vanilla is the best flavour.’

‘Never took you for a vanilla guy, James.’

‘What would take me for? The adventurous gorgeous type?’

Lily laughs, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t want to lie to him and deny it.

‘Attractive mysterious type, then?’ he insists. ‘Handsome scoundrel?’

‘I notice your beauty is enhanced a lot.’

‘My beauty? So you admit that I’m beautiful, Evans?’

‘Do I need to? You seem to already know it.’

‘I enjoy hearing you saying all the same,’ he says, and though James shrugs easily she can sense the shift in his eyes, the nervous glint there. ‘That means we would make a beautiful couple.’

‘We would,’ she whispers, still not wanting to lie.

She turns back her attention to the ice cream, already melting under the scorching sun. It makes a mess, and James laughs as she tries to lick the ice cream out of her hands, but then his laugh dies and she watches him swallow slowly, reacting. He always reacts to her.

She licks her lips now, and he also watches this movement, the grin on his face replaced by concentration—no, determination, a fierce look and Lily knows what James will do even before he raises his hand to slide his thumb at the corner of her mouth.

‘You missed here,’ he says, and though he must have wiped off the ice cream already, his caress remains.

His eyes are dark now, even under the sunlight, and he registers how Lily hasn’t stepped back, how she raises her head just the slightest to get closer to him. His gaze strays to her lips, Lily blinks, and then James looks back at her.

‘Lily,’ he says, and it’s a question.

‘James,’ she says, and it’s the only answer she can give him.

His lips find hers and in the bright darkness that surrounds Lily when she closes her eyes, she can see everything in colour. The white of his taste of vanilla. The green of his perfume that reminds her of early mourning in the woods. The brown of his skin as he pulls her closer, one hand holding the back of her neck and the other hand finding hers, locking their fingers together. The red of her blood pumping furiously through her veins, so loud and unstoppable.

And she sees him, messy dark hair, hazel bright eyes, her own sun.

But when they break apart, when she watches him keeping his eyes closed a second longer—savouring it, remembering it—, all that comes to her mind it’s the warning.

Taint his blood.

Her smile falters.

‘James,’ she whispers, all warmth of the day gone, hating everything but herself so much more when he opens his eyes and they are filled with hope. ‘This doesn’t mean anything.’

And this is the second lie she tells him.

___________

III.

Summer is over as far as Lily is concerned, but they still have two weeks in which she forces a smile up to her lips that doesn’t fool anyone.

Everyone knows something happened, though no one knows exactly what, and Lily feels too tired to pretend everything is normal. James barely acknowledges her when they are in the same room, and in the few occasions their eyes meet, there is nothing of that familiarity that he once thrived to share with her. He looks confused and hurt.

Lily could deal with the confusion but she is powerless against the hurt. She is the one who damaged him after all.

Their friends are mostly adamant in letting them deal with the situation, one notable exception being Sirius Black, but Lily didn’t expect anything less from him. He watches her rather resentfully in the first days, and Lily starts looking for excuses to avoid attending the events she had carefully arranged with them (with James, sitting by the edge of the lake, holding a scroll against his back as they wrote everything they would do, laughing and planning and hoping).

The summer days are hot, unbearably hot, and the breeze that comes through the window of her room isn’t enough. She could cast a Cooling Charm, but her wand is far away and the fact that she can cast spells outside school has lost its appeal now. She doesn't even celebrate when her school letter comes with a badge attached to it.

Most of the time Lily just stares at the ceiling of her room, finding patterns in the painting that aren’t really there, too strained and too tired to avoid being even more strained—her mind keeps replaying the moment James leaned closer, the brief moment his breath tingled her skin and the softness of his lips over hers, and Lily has no strength to avoid it. She is addicted to it, to the one thing she had a taste of and cannot have again.

Five days into hiding (she is hiding, Lily won’t deny it), her sister knocks on her door to tell her unceremoniously that one of her freak friends has come to visit her.

‘Hurry, I don’t want Vernon finding him when he arrives,’ Petunia tells her, and Lily ignores her completely.

Him, she said. Him, Lily thinks, and her mind conjures James sitting on the couch of her parents’ living room, a grin on his lips as he charms his way with her parents (he charmed her, Lily doesn’t see what challenge her parents would present), accepting a cup of tea and looking around trying to understand all the muggle contraptions in that muggle house—

Muggle lover. All the worse for him.

She rushes downstairs, her heart pounding on her head, her mouth dry with the excuses she will have to present (go away, just go away) but it’s not James after all.

Sirius looks even more out of place than the James she imagined inside her head, standing with his arms crossed in that pastel living room, and with an unhappy grimace on his lips. He turns at the sound of her, his grey eyes burning disapprovingly—and then, as he stares at her, his expression shifts.

‘You are a mess, Evans.’

Self-consciousness washes over her, and Lily runs her hand through her hair—or tries to, because it gets stuck in the knots of her messy braid. She knows she hasn’t changed clothes ever since she woke up, though it’s nearly midday, so she does the only thing she can: she presses her lips, crosses her arms and tries to look unfazed.

‘I wasn’t expecting a visit,’ she says. It’s summer break, she can do nothing all day.

‘I didn’t even mean your appearance. It was more your… aura.’

‘Aura,’ she repeats, a tiny part of her finding this amusing, but Lily can’t muster strength enough to break a smile. ‘Very mystical, Sirius.’

‘That’s me, master of occult arts. But in this case, I just needed to look at you. You—you look miserable.’

‘Thanks. If that’s all you wanted to say—’

‘Oh, no, I came here to give you a piece of my mind about how you broke my best friend’s heart, but you look somehow worse than him. What’s going on?’

Lily shrugs. ‘Nothing.’

‘So you just decided to play with his feelings and ditch him the moment he corresponded?’

His words are a poison that crawls through her skin, entering it slowly but certain; Lily feels it reaching her bloodstream, spreading through every part of her body, until the poison finds her heart. She thought she was oblivious to pain after the last days, but she was wrong.

‘I wasn’t playing with his feelings,’ she whispers, her voice hoarse, so close to breaking.

‘Then what? I thought—everyone thought—you fancied him too. Merlin, Evans, that boy was in love with you.’

The worst part is that Lily knows it. It was not a play to James, it never was. She saw it in the way his face lighted up at the sight of her, how eager he was to become friends once Lily first extended her peace flag. She saw how his eyes always looked first for her in any room he entered, how he’d find any reason to stay closer.

And she saw everything because she was paying attention.

Of course she was. One does not fall in love also if not paying attention.

‘I don’t know what to say, Sirius,’ Lily says truthfully. ‘I am sorry for all the confusion I’ve caused.’

‘Sorry is not enough.’

‘I know.’

Sirius watches her with something that borders on disappointment now. ‘You better find a way of fixing this, Evans.’

‘I—I don’t know how. I’m trying to keep my distance—’

‘And how is that helping you two?’

It’s not, Lily knows, and that’s the point. She can’t explain to James what is the problem and she is afraid that if she sees him again, if her determination falters her for one second—

‘We are going to have a party tomorrow night,’ Sirius says, his voice leaving no room for argument. ‘Dorcas’ house. It’s a goodbye party, we even invited the muggle neighbours. You’ll come, you’ll find James and you’ll talk. Fix this.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You better find a way, Evans, because that thing of keeping your distance? Well, Hogwarts letter came yesterday. Let me guess, you are Head Girl.’

Lily nods, not understanding where Sirius is heading with this.

‘Guess who’s Head Boy this year?’

____________

Lily hears the music as soon as she disapparates near Dorcas’ house. People, young people around her age, are walking towards the house and she joins the flow letting herself get lost in that stream of people, hoping it’s enough to not draw attention to her presence.

It’s useless. As soon as she crosses the doorway, Dorcas cries for her, her voice louder than the music, and then people look at her curiously.

‘Merlin, Lily!’ Dorcas cries, ignoring everyone in the room to whom that sentence makes no sense. ‘I thought I would need to invade the Prefect’s Cabin to see you again.’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Lily says, accepting Dorcas’ hug, and using it as an excuse to avoid looking around. ‘I had stuff to do.’

It’s vague, it’s almost a lie, and Dorcas is on the edge of discussing it when Lily says she is going to get a drink, leaving the room.

When she reaches the kitchen, Lily considers that having herself questioned by Dorcas was preferable, because of course she runs into James at the first opportunity.

And of course he already has a company.

He is with his back to her, holding a bottle of beer in his hand while he talks with a pretty dark-haired girl. In another time Lily would find amusing how James obviously has no idea what he’s talking about—muggle rock bands, a subject that Sirius would fare better—, but she can’t break a smile right now, because she sees that James is trying.

That’s what he is doing with that unknown girl. He is making a real effort to keep a conversation, trying to understand what she is saying; he is trying to look interesting, to gather her attention.

Ten days, she thinks selfishly. We kissed ten days ago and I can’t stop thinking about it and you are flirting with another girl.

He must sense her staring; he turns around, and his eyes find her for a brief second before Lily bolts through the door (she is running, and she won’t deny it), grabbing the first bottle she sees on her way out.

Sirius must have lied to her (you broke my best friend’s heart), because James looks normal. Not hurt anymore, just… normal. Not like he used to like her in those first glorious days of the summer—bright and hopeful and awaiting—but as if she is just anyone else. Ordinary.

It’s fair, all things considered. She couldn’t expect him to remain in love with the girl who kissed him then rejected him. But she sees it, clearly as day, what the future holds: James will move on whatever he feels for her (that boy was in love with you) and then he will do with someone else everything he used to do with her—that inviting grins, the glint in his eyes, throwing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, so… intimate. Familiar. Hers.

He will share with others what used to be hers.

She leaves the house, in search of a quiet place at the beach to sit on, and looks at the bottle in her hands. Wine. Not good. She will take forever to get drunk on wine and afterwards the headache won’t even be worth it.

But it’s all she has and James is somewhere in that house flirting with a girl (that’s not her) that didn’t reject him and he has every right to do it. Even if it’s a muggle girl. Even if the reason Lily is not with him is that she is muggleborn.

It’s ironic and it’s sad, but it’s not the same. This is a one-night thing. It’s the end of the summer, he’s probably just looking for the last bit of carefree summer adventure as the single guy he is. They will just dance with each other, close together, enjoying their freedom, finding a secluded room, and he will touch the corner of her lips, asking, and she will say yes because that’s the only answer she can give him.

It won’t mean anything, but this time it will be true and this time James won’t get hurt by it.

Maybe Lily should do the same. Not to get even, but to start her own way forward. She can’t be harbouring her feelings for him—wasn’t that the point of not advancing things? Wasn’t that why she lied to him? (That kiss had meant everything)

She takes a sip of the wine, then another and one more for good measure, and she rises, almost colliding with him. Of course.

‘Hey,’ he says awkwardly, arms extended to steady her. It lasts less than a second, but his hands over her arms burn all the same, stronger than the heat any day of that summer.

‘Hi.’

He is looking at a point over her head, unable to meet her eyes, his hand lifting the hair at the back of his head and Lily remembers running her fingers through the strands of his hair while they were kissing, enjoying the fact that for once she was the one messing it.

‘Look, I’m just gonna say it, okay?’ James says in a rush, not as when he is excitedly talking about something he finds interesting. ‘I’m sorry for—for everything.’

Everything. What does it mean?

‘I am too,’ she answers carefully. He takes a deep breath.

‘I heard we are going to be Heads this year—I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking, really—and I don’t want things to be weird between us.’

Weird. Things were never weird between them before. They weren’t friends, then Lily barely stood him, then they were acquaintances, then they were friends, then they were flirting with each other and then they were so close to something.

But never weird.

Somehow this notion helps to clear the fog in her head.

‘I don’t want it either,’ Lily says, and there is no doubt in her voice. James seems to breathe again with her words.

‘Good.’ There is a moment of silence. ‘Can we forget everything and go back to being just friends?’

Lily steels herself. She takes a look at James’ face—his eyes are on her forehead now, almost meeting her eyes but not yet ready—, one last look to admire him in the darkness of the beach and she is not lying when she says: ‘We can.’

By the end of the night it will be a lie, though, and that’s number three.

___________

They are trying and because no one tries better than James Potter, they are almost achieving it.

They go back to the house, keeping a safe distance between them so no one could misinterpret it, but whatever their friends see in their faces seems to relax everyone. Lily and James are fine, they believe, they are over that weird thing between them, and Lily starts believing it too.

She can do it.

A bottle of gin finds its way towards her group and the music is exciting. It’s a party, she is on a party, and it’s easy to join Dorcas in the middle of a dance, and it’s even easier when Dorcas is replaced by a cute muggle boy who doesn’t look anything like James (that’s why it’s easier—it takes only one second for her to look for any similarity and find none and it’s so easy).

She wonders if that’s why James was talking to that dark-haired girl. If he was avoiding finding Lily in someone else too.

But that’s a bad thought, it’s not a thought of someone who’s trying (and Lily is, she swears), so she accepts his arms, let who-knows-his-name twirl her around the room, but when he leans in to kiss her, she laughs and diverts—she is trying, but it takes small steps, so she says something about getting another drink and goes to the next room.

That’s a mistake.

A big, big mistake.

She finds them sitting close together on a couch that should only fit one, joining some silly drinking game. His arm is around her shoulders, holding a glass that’s nearly finished; they are laughing and as Lily watches it, the girl leans closer to speak something in his ear, her hand playing with the curls of his hair as she speaks. It takes a full second, but he grins, turning to her and winking.

It could be nothing, it could be just some joke, but it’s not harmless, Lily knows it. It’s a flirt, and James has every right to do it; he is free and Lily has just told him they can be friends. Friends don’t get jealous. Friends don’t get their hearts ripped out with the sight of the other smiling happily at someone else.

Lily can’t do it at all.

So she turns away and runs once more (she’s getting quite good at it by now), sprinting upstairs in search of an empty room, somewhere where she can rest until she can breathe again, until she can rearrange her expression into something normal enough for her to come back to the party, find that blond guy who is not James and enjoy her summer break as he is doing right now.

Until she can pretend everything is normal.

‘Lily?’

His voice breaks the silence of that room—though Lily knows she would have heard it anyway—and it sends a wave of panic through her body. She is not ready. She can’t look at him and still keep her promise.

James doesn’t know about her troubles—he is trying after all, and he is so much better at this than Lily will ever be—so he walks towards her, takes a look at her face and kneels in front of her.

‘Are you okay?’

‘No,’ she says, unable to lie. He would see through her anyway.

‘I saw you leaving—what happened?’

‘I need more time. I can’t...’

‘Can’t what?’ She doesn’t answer. James sighs. ‘Are you drunk? Come on, rest a little, I will bring you some water—’

‘I’m not drunk,’ Lily says. Another truth. ‘I just need—I want—’

‘What?’

In answer, she raises her hand and lets her fingers comb his hair. He shivers, his breath catching, his eyes widening and he holds her arm to stop the movement. Nervous. Insecure. She can’t fault him. They’ve been there before, at the edge of something, and she accepted only to turn him away a second later.

‘What are you doing?’

It’s a demand more than a question, and Lily attends it. ‘I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do. It’s mine.’

Her voice is ferocious and unfair and Lily waits for his cold reply, the one she deserves—she has no right to claim any part of him—, but it never comes. Instead, James blinks.

‘Then take it,’ he challenges. Lily does.

Her lips crash over his, and this time is not soft or patient. It’s desperate and when she tastes the whiskey in his mouth, she understands the difference and gladly accepts it. His hands are everywhere—holding her waist, climbing under her skirt, running through her hair to pull her closer—but what somehow stays with her it’s the moment he closes the door and then they are alone and the darkness is their friend.

The darkness makes it easy, embarrassingly easy, for her to break the kiss enough to lift his shirt and for him to slide her dress down and for them to find their way to the bed. He holds her, his lips incessantly, and a part of Lily wonders if he doesn’t want to break apart for fear of what happened the last time he did it.

But the majority of her is too wrapped in the feelings he is bringing to worry about anything. She accepts him, accepts every caress he distributes openly, and returns it eagerly. She tastes the saltiness of his skin, feels every muscle of his chest—the ones she has memorized after so many days at the beach though she had only imagined how they would feel under her fingers—, presses herself closer to him. His hands are exploring her—he saw her at the beach too—and then his mouth replaces his hands and the moan that escapes her lips is true.

She pulls him up, tasting her own sweat on his lips—it was a warm day and it’s a warmer night—and her hands work on the button of his jeans. There is a moment of hesitation—he breaks away, his eyes boring into hers even as the darkness barely allows them to see each other—and then it’s gone. He pulls her last piece of cloth then stands up long enough to take out his last one and then there is only them.

Only Lily and James, except they don’t feel like two anymore. They are one and in the darkness, Lily sees those colours that are so James once more, fireworks whose sounds are moans and short breaths and names whispered so low that the other could pretend they didn’t hear.

But Lily hears it and it’s hers. He is hers for that moment and she is his.

She lied before (and now she knows it). She can’t forget him. She can’t be just friends. James is bright sunny days, cosy cold nights and she longs to share it all with him (she couldn’t, but her mind can’t recall why right now). She locks her hand with his, her nails burying into his skin, and Lily doesn’t want to let go.

He holds her hand, pressing it so hard that she can’t feel circulation there anymore, and then he cries her name, this time impossible to deny it. He called her.

It’s not the last time he will do it tonight. He presses another kiss to her lips—it’s feverish and urgent and somehow even more desperate than the first one—, rests his forehead against her catching his breath and Lily enjoys the moment, enjoys that pleasure and soreness that runs through her body, enjoys how her chest brushes against his as she breathes, slower each time, recovering.

Recover. As if she could.

James breaks apart, rolling to the side and for a moment there is silence, the music distant, the world distant until it’s not anymore, until the world seems too close and the air too heavy, not one breeze to refresh it. Lily thinks of opening the window—it’s already opened, the wind bringing the smell of the sea to the room—when she realizes it’s not the air that feels wrong.

It’s them. No, it’s him.

‘James,’ she calls, panic and fear trembling her voice, coldness spreading through her skin in a way that it should not be possible, not on this summer day.

She can hear him rising from the bed, grabbing his clothes.

‘Lily,’ he answers shortly, opening briefly the door and she can’t see his face. ‘I know, it doesn’t mean anything.’

And that’s James Potter's first lie.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Pride

Dear nonnie who requested that I write something for Pride month, I'm so, so sorry! Somehow this got lost in my inbox and I didn't see it until I started working on 'Bargain' this afternoon. Please accept this humble ficlet and my deepest apologies. <3

I'm kind of nervous about this one. I know coming out is a deeply personal experience and I'm not sure I wrote it terribly well. Please know that you are loved, valued, cherished, and accepted just as you are. I know for many people the struggle is so much greater than what I wrote in this ficlet. You are all amazing. <3

cw: Internalized homophobia, homophobic parents (happy ending)

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June 12, 1999

"Hey!" Harry said, bursting into Draco's room like it was his own.

Draco looked up from the essay he was writing, the last one he needed to finish for his eighth year at Hogwarts. "Hi," he replied and he couldn't help but admire the dimple that stood out on Harry's cheek as he smiled at him.

"Some of us are heading down to Hogsmeade for the pride celebration they're having there tonight," Harry said. "Did you want to come?"

His brow furrowed, "Pride? Like house pride?"

Harry laughed but not unkindly like it would have been prior to this year, "No, like gay pride. It's to celebrate people who are lgbtq+, to affirm their dignity and worth as human beings, you know?"

Draco felt his cheeks flushing hot, "I'm not," he managed through the way it felt like someone had closed off his airway, shaking his head, "I'm not gay!"

"Err," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, "Right, I wasn't trying to imply anything. Just," he shrugged, "I think I'm bi, and there's GInny and Luna," he continued, stumbling over his words.

"But I'm not!" he protested

"Right," Harry repeated, brow furrowing, "We just thought..." he trailed off, "Ron, who's like as straight as they come is coming too, to show his support."

"I can't," Draco said. "I've got all this work to do, I just-"

"It's okay," Harry said, shaking his head and holding out a hand, "Totally fine, sorry to have bothered you," he added as he quickly fled the room before Draco could say anything else.

(Continue reading below the cut)

He stared after him, still feeling panicked and full of regret at the same time.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

And in spite of the fact that he'd told Harry he needed to finish his essay, he spent the rest of the night trying to get his heart to slow down, his breathing to come easier, and his mind to stop spinning.

The essay remained untouched.

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June 9, 2000

Draco was having murderous thoughts.

They had a tradition on Fridays that everyone who lived in Grimmauld sat down together for dinner and if you were dating someone, you were allowed to bring them home with you for dinner. Draco never brought anyone home because the women he dated were so unattractive to him that he just couldn't bring himself to see them for more than a date or two.

Harry, on the other hand was always bringing someone home. He had men and women there with him every week. Usually, it was a different person every week and that didn't bother Draco all that much. But he'd been seeing Conor for six weeks now and the way the other man was always clinging to Harry, always laughing and batting his eyelashes at him; it made Draco feel ready to kill him.

"So I was thinking," Harry said when there was a lull in the conversation, "The Leaky is having a Pride Night celebration tomorrow. Maybe we should all go together?" he asked hopefully.

There were murmurs of approval all around the table and Draco dropped his gaze to his plate, his palms started to itch. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"What about you, Draco?" Conor asked, all toothy smiles as he rested his arm around Harry's shoulders.

He couldn't help but look over at Harry who was suddenly watching him in that way that made him feel like he was being held under a magnifying glass. People thought that Harry was oblivious but Draco knew they were wrong. Harry knew everything about Draco just from watching him.

Draco swallowed, "Yeah," he managed. "Yeah. I can come for a bit."

Harry smiled at him then, soft and sweet, his dimples showing, "Yeah?" he asked.

And Draco was fairly certain there was nothing he could have said no to when Harry asked like that, so he nodded.

"Great!" Conor enthused and the moment dissipated like fog in the sun. "It'll be so fun to have all of your friends there, babe."

"Err," Harry said, looking over at Conor, "Yeah. Totally." Then he turned back to look at Draco once more, "Yeah," he said again.

-----------

June 10, 2000

Draco had made a mistake.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"Hey!" Harry said, appearing out of nowhere and wrapping an arm around Draco, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he lied.

"Come on," Harry said, "Let me introduce you to some people."

Draco spent the next hour meeting all sorts of people, he listened to people telling their stories, people who were claiming their own lives and destinies, and all he could feel was loss.

Every person he listened to felt like another stone tied around his neck, their joy and freedom made him feel even more trapped. Harry went to fetch drinks as he listened to a trans woman named Jocelyn talking about how difficult it had been to come out to her family. And it was the final straw, he lost it. Tears slipped from his eyes and before he could do anything, she was hugging him, "We've all been where you are," she whispered.

He shook his head and pulled back, "I'm not-" he covered his mouth, he couldn't quite force out the lie.

She nodded knowingly, "We've all been there, too."

"I've got to go," he managed, rising on shaking legs and making his way out of the bar as quickly as he could.

When he got outside he bent over, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"Draco!" he heard as the door opened and he wasn't ready for this.

"Don't," he said, standing up and holding out his hands to stop Harry from coming any closer.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern and Draco hated it.

"Malfoys aren't gay!" he exploded.

"What?" Harry asked as though his words hadn't been perfectly clear.

"Malfoys aren't gay," he repeated.

Harry tilted his head at him, "Alright."

"So you can stop this," he said, gesturing at the door. "I don't need help coming out. I'm not gay," he spat.

"I'm not trying to help you come out," Harry said, his voice measured and calm in a way that told Draco just how hard he was working at not getting emotional. "I just wanted to introduce you to-"

"Bull shit," he hissed. "Every person you 'introduced me to' told me about coming out."

"It's Pride, Draco. They're," he stopped and corrected himself, "We're celebrating coming out. We're celebrating not hiding who we are anymore. If you think it's about you, well," he shrugged a shoulder, "You probably have more in common with us than you want to admit."

"I'm not gay!" he shouted, shoving Harry away from him.

There was a flash of hurt across Harry's face before he put his hands on his hips and that fire that Draco so remembered from Hogwarts filled his eyes. "No one said you were!" Harry shouted back. "And if you were so afraid of having people think you are, why did you even come in the first place?"

"I guess I shouldn't have."

Harry took a step back away from him, shaking his head, "I guess not." He turned on his heel and stalked back into the bar, leaving Draco standing on the sidewalk, shaking as the adrenaline flooded through him.

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

June 11, 2000

It wasn't quite morning when Draco heard a soft knock at his door.

With no small amount of effort, he reached for his wand and cast a spell to open it. Harry was standing in the doorway and Draco huffed, "I've already packed," he said. "I'll leave in the morning."

"What?" Harry asked, sounding panicked, "No!" he said, stepping across the threshold of Draco's room and moving to the chair across from Draco's bed. "No," he repeated. "Draco, please don't leave. I'm sorry. Alright?" Harry said. "I shouldn't-"

"You're sorry?" Draco asked, sitting up and staring at the other boy, "No, I'm sorry," he said, quickly. "I was awful and I didn't le-"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "It's my fault. I shouldn't-"

"I'm gay," Draco blurted and then realized what he'd just admitted. He covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," Harry whispered, climbing onto the bed next to him and pulling Draco into his arms, "It's okay."

Draco shook his head but couldn't manage any words around the sob that was choking him.

"It's okay," Harry soothed, stroking his fingers through Draco's hair and rocking him. "I've got you," he breathed. "You're safe," he said, "You're safe," he repeated. "You're loved and you're accepted," he told him, "I've got you."

Draco sobbed, all of the fear, and the guilt, and the shame was built up high in his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe around it.

"Okay," Harry soothed, "Slow breaths with me, yeah? Just try to match your breathing to mine," he said, his hand rubbing soothingly over Draco's back.

He sucked in a deep, gasping breath that burned all the way down into his lungs.

"That's it," Harry encouraged, "You're alright."

He continued breathing slowly and Draco tried to mirror it until his sobbing was just the occasional hiccup and the tears were just trickling out of his eyes.

"Okay," Harry breathed. "Better?"

Draco nodded and pulled back, "Sorry," he murmured, then he caught sight of Harry's shirt covered in tears and snot and wished that the earth would open up and swallow him, "Salazar, I'm sorry," he said, reaching for his wand and casting a hasty drying charm followed by a cleaning charm.

"It's fine," Harry said, reaching out to still Draco's motions. "It's fine," he repeated. "Look, I didn't mean to pressure you into coming out," he said. "I won't tell anyone," he added hastily.

He shook his head, "It's eating me up inside." Draco wiped the tears off his face, "I'm going to die alone."

"Don't say that," Harry said.

"Well it's true!" he said, "What am I supposed to tell my parents?"

Harry took his hand, "It's up to you," he said softly. "I won't pretend to understand the challenges you're facing. My parents are dead."

"Oh, thanks. Play the dead parent card."

Harry huffed a laugh, "Shut up. I'm trying to say that I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. It's not an easy decision and I want you to know that I am here for you, that I support you, no matter what."

His eyes filled with tears and he let out a groan, "Stop it."

The other boy wrapped his arms around him, "No."

"What is this?" he asked, from where his face was buried in Harry's neck.

"Affection."

"Disgusting," he murmured.

"Want me to stop?"

He shook his head because when Harry wasn't hugging him everything felt a little too big and a little too close.

And he had no idea what he was going to do but when Harry was holding him it didn't seem quite so scary.

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

A few weeks later, he and Harry had started dating in secret. Harry was very sweet, very patient as Draco struggled against years of deeply ingrained negative thoughts. Draco still felt like he was a bit of a burden but Harry always insisted he wasn't.

Just over a month after that, Hermione had figured it out on her own, Pansy had tricked him into confessing, and Ron had walked in on the two of them making out on Harry's bed.

And the world didn't end.

Slowly, over the course of the next seven months, they told all of their friends. Everyone was supportive. Everyone was happy for them, happy for him that he'd decided to walk in the truth.

Truth be told, he was happy too. His anxiety still got the worst of him some days and his fear was sometimes bigger than anything else but he got through those days and those days slowly became fewer and fewer.

He got comfortable with Harry; comfortable holding hands, comfortable with casual kisses, comfortable with bickering that turned into flirting, just comfortable in his skin.

One chilly March morning, he and Harry were out to breakfast and they were laughing and teasing each other, like they always did and Draco was happy all the way down to his toes.

He looked across the table at Harry, "You've got whipped cream on your mouth," he laughed.

Harry stuck his tongue out and missed completely.

"Here," he said with a laugh, "Let me," he added as he grabbed the front of Harry's jumper and pulled him close so he could kiss it off his grinning face.

He was pulling back to check that he'd gotten it all when he heard a gasp that he would have recognized anywhere. Draco would never be quite sure what his face and body language were saying at that moment but Harry was instantly on alert, scanning the room for danger. "Shit," he breathed.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," his mother hissed. "What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing."

"Don't make a scene, mother," he said and even he was surprised at how calm the words came out.

"I don't think that I am the one making a scene, Draco."

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said, "Why don't we go somewhere more private for this conversation."

"Oh no," she said, "I don't think there is any conversation to be had. Draco, we'll be leaving. Right this instant."

Draco looked at her, at the woman who had dried his tears, who had sacrificed for him, who had given him life and his heart yearned for her. He longed to reach out and hold her hand like he had when he was young, to let her reassure him that everything would be alright. And it could be. He knew if he walked away with her today, he'd go back to living the life that had been planned for him.

But then he looked at Harry and all he could see was freedom. His heart expanded as he remembered the late nights talking over a bottle of wine, the early mornings as the sun filtered in through Harry's window and painted him golden. He remembered the cuddles on the couch and the evenings spent cooking dinner together. And he knew that he could never go back. He could never live a life of duty and obligation knowing that this one was possible.

"I love you," he said softly as he stared at Harry.

The other man blinked before his mouth curved up in a grin, his dimples showing, "I love you, too."

He reached for Harry's hand to ground himself as he turned to his mother, "You know that I love you," he said to her, "but I can't live a lie. I can't be the boy that you wanted."

"Draco you are being ridiculous."

"Maybe," he replied. "But I never knew what it was like to be free before these past few months with Harry and I won't give them back."

She cast a belated muffliato. "There are plenty of Purebloods who are gay, Draco," she said, keeping her voice low, "You still have your obligation to have a pureblood heir. Marry a nice girl and take a lover if you must, but you will continue your bloodline."

He laughed, it sounded a bit hysterical even to his own ears. "Do you hear yourself?" he asked. "The Malfoy line can die with me. I'm not marrying some woman just to please you."

"Draco-"

"No," he said sharply. "No. I can't do this, mother. I can't be what you want me to be. I'm done." He shook his head, "You can accept this, accept me or not. Either way I am done."

She straightened her spine and smoothed the emotions from her features and Draco knew the decision she had made before she started speaking. He clasped Harry's hand tighter in his. "Very well, then," she said. "Good day," she murmured before she walked away without a backward glance.

They sat in silence for a moment before Harry asked, "Are you alright?"

"I don't know."

"What can I do?" he murmured, squeezing Draco's hand again.

"Can we go home?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, love. Of course."

He apparated them back and they spend the afternoon cocooned in Harry's room until their friends came to find them for dinner.

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

June 9, 2001

This year it's Draco who asked about going to the bar to celebrate Pride.

Harry smiled and pulled him in for a long kiss before nodding and getting dressed.

When they arrived, Draco slipped his fingers through Harry's holding his hand tightly; proud of Harry, proud of how far they've come, and proud of himself for how much he's grown and how brave he's become.

Several of the people he'd met the year before remembered him and are quick to congratulate him and welcome him again. The night was full of music and dancing, of listening to stories and starting to tell his own, it's everything Harry had made it sound like.

And he thought he might be happy, in spite of that little bit of his heart that always ached for his parents.

They're about to head up for another round of drinks when Harry tugged on his hand. "Look," he murmured, pointing to the door.

Draco followed his pointing and saw that there was a woman standing in the door who looked remarkably like his mother. "What?" he managed.

But Harry was already waving to her and nudging Draco forward.

"What?" he repeated when he was standing in front of her.

Without a word she wrapped her arms around him, enfolding him in the comforting feel and scent of his childhood.

"Mummy?" he whispered.

"Yes, darling," she replied, voice equally thick with tears.

Harry cleared his throat, "I'll fetch us some drinks. What can I get you Narcissa?" he asked.

"Whiskey neat," she replied without releasing her hold on Draco.

He pulled back after one more moment, "What are you doing here?"

"Where else could I be?" she asked. "When we didn't see you for your birthday last week," she shook her head. "Well, I knew that I was making a mistake."

Harry returned handing them their drinks and nodding toward a table nearby.

They headed over and she sat next to Draco, "You're my child, Draco," she said. "And I love you more than you can imagine."

He nodded once but didn't say anything. This sounded too much like the start to one of the 'I love you and if you love me, this is how you should act' talks.

"Fortunately, your Mr. Potter has sent quite regular correspondence."

"What?" Draco said, whipping his head around to look at Harry.

He nodded once but before Draco could question him his mother continued.

"He invited me to come tonight," she continued, "To support you. And I've missed so much already, how could I say no?"

"This isn't a phase," he said. "I'm not going to change my mind or be cured one day."

She nodded, "I know."

"Does father?"

She hummed, "We're getting there." She took his hand in her's, "For now, won't you introduce me to some of your new friends?"

--------

Two years later, when he and Harry got married, both of his parents were there, sitting right in the front row and cheering them on.

---------

Thanks for the prompt! I don't quite know what you were hoping for so I hope this is okay! <3

[wormstacheangel]

For The Girl Who Has Everything

Masterpost link for Reelin’ In The Years: Here

AO3 Link: Here

wc: 2.4k Summary:  Claire is too mad to even look at Cas let alone talk to him. Dean knew he had to step up because two people with messed up childhoods and anger issues really need to spend more time together talking about their feelings.

When Chuck was defeated, a lot of people came to the bunker to celebrate. Those times were a big blur to Dean, his focus was on finding a way to save Cas, and it wasn’t until he saw Claire run down those steps that the world focused again. She smiled at him, a rare big grin, before her arms wrapped around his neck to bring him down for a hug with an intoxicating giggle.

‘She didn’t know,’ Dean thought as his arms hung loosely at his sides.

He hid his face in her curls, not knowing how to face another kid Cas left behind because of him. He was holding his breath when she pulled away to look at him. Her eyebrows were raised in a question that Dean didn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear.

She repeated it, “Dude, where’s Cas? Is the old man sleeping or something?”

‘Yes.’ Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat.

He didn’t look at the audience around them when he finally opened his mouth to say, “Claire, Ca—” He couldn’t say his name. He felt like it would tear the fragile wall that was keeping him on his feet if he did. “I’m sorry.”

Dean watched as her face twisted into confusion, understanding, and then settling into anger.

She was trying to fight the tears, but they fell as she yelled, “No! No, you were—Where were you? Why didn’t you protect him?”

“He protected me. He—he saved me.”

She looked at him with round eyes, shaking her head as if not wanting to believe it.

“Then it should’ve been you! You should’ve died! Not him!” Dean flinched at the words that have been echoing in his head since that night. “It’s not fair!”

Claire’s angry fist collided with his chest. He flinched at every hit but didn’t back away as her punches became sporadic but still filled with grief. Maybe even guilt.

“I’m sorry.” Dean knew those words did nothing to comfort, but he couldn’t help but say them. “I’m so sorry, Claire.”

She screamed in frustration until her punches weakened, and he was holding her. Then, finally, she fell against him, her face hidden in his chest as her grip tightened on his shirt.

She didn’t stay after that.

She walked back up the stairs with Jody and Kaia following behind her. Jack tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t even look at him. Dean couldn’t blame her.

It’s hard to look at the kid when he reminded them of the person they lost.

Of course, Dean never told Cas any of this.

Since coming back, Cas had been dealing with the silent treatment from the killer Barbie. She only replied with the thumbs-up emoji, and when Cas was too much, she responded with the middle finger emoji. A little warning advising Cas to back off.

She only visited him once, but that was when Cas was in the hospital. She freaked out, yelled at him for being stupid, and then passed out by his bed only to leave the next morning like nothing ever happened. Still, it made Cas feel a little better knowing she still cared, but she was dealing with it her way. Or, as Cas liked to say, she was dealing with feelings the Dean Winchester way. Of course, he’ll argue it wasn’t true, but he knows he won’t win that one.

Now he was sitting awkwardly in Jody’s living room watching Kaia and Patience play with Jack on the floor while Claire and Cas had a yelling match in the privacy of the backyard. Well, Claire was yelling while Cas was trying very hard to keep his tone even, which only made Claire angrier.

“I’m done talking to you!” Claire slid the glass door open and stormed through the living room.

“Then try listening to me!” Cas followed behind her, watching as she walked straight past the living room and towards the front door. “Claire. Claire, where are you going?”

She whipped around to glare daggers at Cas, eyes wide filled with tears, but she still looked at him with a pained grimace. “Did you even think of me? When you were out there being a damn hero. Did you-Did you think of me?” Her voice breaking on the last word made Dean flinch.

“Claire, of course-”

“No. No, of course, you didn’t. Cause if you did, then you wouldn’t have-” She bit her cheek as tears started to fall. She stood tall, presenting as strong, as her expression hardened. “You left me, Castiel. And now I-I don’t,” She looked around the room. It was quiet as everyone watched the interaction before her eyes landed on a little Jack in Kaia’s arms. She clicked her tongue before turning back to the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Claire.” Cas tried following her, but Dean quickly rushed up to stop him. “Dean. I may not have my strength, but I will-”

“Calm down, Rocky,” Dean had a hand on Cas’s shoulder to stop him. “I just wanted to stop you from making it worse.”

“I don’t think I can. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t.” He assures his boyfriend with a little smile, but Cas simply rolled his eyes at him. “Okay, you stay here. Talk to your son, and I’ll go talk to the other kid.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to say to her?”

“I don’t know, but like you said before. Two fuck up’s just understand each other.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just let me handle this. You trust me, right?”

Cas made a face at that, not answering quickly enough before he said, “Just bring her home.”

“Gee. Thanks for the confidence, babe.”

Dean ran after Claire, forcing his way to her passenger side as she started to back up on the driveway.

“Thanks for waiting, kid. Where we going?” Dean buckled up just in time for Claire to slam the breaks. Unfortunately, he hit his head on the front dash because the damn seat was scooted forward, his knees were practically pressed against his chest, which made sense knowing a tiny Kaia would usually occupy the seat. “Ow.”

“You aren’t going anywhere. Get out.”

Dean ignored her scary and oddly familiar glare as he pushed the seat back so his legs could fit. “Oh, come on. My treat.”

She didn’t have time to argue because Cas walked out of the front door—his trust in him really was lacking—and Claire decided that dealing with Dean was much easier than having to talk to Cas again. But, of course, he would take that as a compliment.

Claire drove with loud rocker girl music vibrating the windows and didn’t stop until she finally parked outside some ice cream shop.

“I want a shake.” She sniffled, and Dean did his best to ignore her red blotchy eyes for her sake.

“Sure, kid.”

They drank their shakes and shared some fries while sitting on top of Claire’s ugly little red. Well, she sat, and he leaned, but either way, silence remained.

He didn’t want to pressure her to talk—she would probably lie if he did—but still, he wanted to ease the tension between Cas and her, salvage a relationship he knew was important to both of them, but he didn’t know where to start.

Maybe he could start with his own guilt.

“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat as he felt the smooth ice cream start to turn to gum down his throat. He looked down at his shake, lifting the straw up and down to hear the gloppy sound while trying to figure out what to say to her.

She hummed, “‘bout what?”

“Not telling you. About Cas. What happened to him.” He sighed and looked back at her. “Sorry. I should have called, but I wasn’t—I was a mess. I couldn’t be there for you. I couldn’t even be there for Jack. I should have-”

“It’s okay.” She waved her hand up to stop him. “I-I get it. I mean, it’s not, but whatever.”

“So, are you gonna tell me why you’re mad?”

She rolled her eyes, once again the gesture was familiar, before slamming the shake on the hood and sliding off the car. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking so small as she kicked a pebble on the floor.

“He replaced me.”

Her voice was quiet. Almost like she didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I know it’s stupid and-and I’m acting like a child, but…” She quickly sniffled again before running her hand through her hair nervously. Looking up to stare into the darkening sky, acting like everything was okay. “He’s not my Dad, but he’s the closest thing I have, and I just thought—I just thought that maybe he felt the same way.”

She shrugged, her lips pinching together as if trying to hold something back, before retaking control of her expression. A glare directed towards Dean replaced the lost child stare into the stars, but the lost child was still there.

“Kid…” Dean sighed, head scrambling for words.

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me.”

Claire teased with a little smirk. She definitely learned this from Dean or Jody. “Whatever you say, old man.”

“Old—Claire.” She let out a breath of a laugh before rolling her eyes away from Dean. “I’m trying to be serious. Cas… he loves you. He-he loves you like you were his own.” She didn’t look at him, but he could see her face scrunch up, ready to argue. “He worries about you constantly, and Jack knows all about you because he won’t shut up about how awesome you are.”

“He says that? He says I’m awesome?”

“Well, awesome is my word, but you get the gist.” He turns to face her even though she doesn’t meet his gaze. “Cas may not be your Dad, but he loves you like a daughter. Sometimes—yeah, a lot of the time actually—he makes stupid decisions, but it’s cause he is trying his best. And he cares. That dumbass cares way too much about the damn world, but he’s also someone who would give up the whole world if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Stop making excuses for him!”

“Claire, you gotta believe me. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She finally turned to look at him. “But he did. He hurt me! He left me!”

“He left me too!” Dean raised his voice; it sounded broken to admit such a thing out loud. And to Claire of all people. He slumped down against the car again and looked at the ground to ignore her big blue eyes throwing sympathy glares his way. “He left me—more times than you know. And—and don’t tell anyone I told you this—but I…I was scared. Each goddamn time I’m scared that this may be it! That this time…this time he won’t come back to me.”

“But he did.” Her voice sounded so far away.

“Yeah. Had to work a little bit harder on my end, but I got him.” He reached over and patted her shoulder. “We got him back.”

Something in the way her eyes went cold and far away made his fight drain out. He didn’t know what else he could do or say, but he opened his arms just in time to have her fall against him. His face mushed into her curls while he hugged her tight into his chest.

“Were you mad at Cas?”

Dean thought about it for a second. “No. I mean, I was at first. That asshole got himself killed over and over again. Leaving me alone.”

“But you had Sam. Jack.”

“Yeah,” Dean pulled back and looked down at her. “Well, you had Jody. Kaia. Alex. Patience and even Donna. Made it any easier for you?”

“No.”

“No.” He chuckled while she hid her face from him, asking him to continue. “But I was mad at him. Real fucking pissed, actually. At him. At…at everyone. Sam and Jack didn’t even wanna be near me.” He tries to shake off those dark memories of screaming and feeling nothing but agonizing loneliness. “I just shut down and gave up on…a lot of things because he was gone. Couldn’t really see a point, you know?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I get why you’re mad, Claire. Trust me, I do, but he’s back now.”

“And I’m just supposed to forgive him? Did you just forgive him?”

Dean shrugged, looking back down at her sad baby blues. Hoping she would understand and that she won’t tease him about it later on. “I didn’t want to waste any time being mad at him. I love him too much.”

“Gross.” She pushed him away this time, tucking her hair behind her ear before smiling at him. It reminded him of Jack’s little shy smile. “But I-I think you’re right. Maybe I’m done wasting time.”

They drove back with the music luckily a little lower but Dean just watched Claire drive with a growing smile on his face. He’s gonna have to admit that Cas was right, two messed up people can really relate and help each other out.

When they walked into the house, Dean took Jody from marching over to Claire to lecture her. “Just wait,” he whispered to her, and luckily she listened to him. They both held their breath as Claire walked over to Cas—who looked like he had been sitting in that seat freaking out since they left—and asked if they could try talking outside again. He blinked up at her a few times before nodding, following her to the backyard again.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief when the glass door closed behind them.

“Dean.” He looked up towards his kid, who reached for him from Kaia’s arms on the couch. Dean quickly walked over to pick him up, pressing a kiss to his head while trying not to let guilt eat at him. “Is Dad okay?”

“Don’t worry, bud.” Dean watched Jack’s eyes that showed how much he has experienced, how much he understood. “He’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

On the drive back, Cas had a smile plastered across his face. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened, considering Cas walked in, ready to introduce Jack to Claire. Then Cas spent the rest of the night watching his kids getting along, looking the happiest Dean had seen him in a really long time.

“So, what did you and Claire talk about?”

Cas hummed before looking up at Dean as if just remembering that he was there. “Oh. Um, she just made me promise her something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Same thing I promised you. Don’t get dead anymore.”

“Oh. Good. Keep that promise.”

“I’ll do my best.” Cas looked back at Jack before he leaned over and pressed a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I have a lot to live for now. A family.”

A family. Yeah.

Dean took a peek at Jack with the mirror and then watched as Cas changed his phone background pic to one of Claire spinning Jack around in the living room.

They were a real family.

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Nice To Meet You

Bucky x Wilson!reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut (duh, so kids go home.), Godzilla Vs Kong spoiler

A/N: I’m trying to get back to it. I’m so rusty, so please bear with me. 😩

Also, this story has unprotected sex. Remember that this is just fiction and if he ain’t got no rubber then he can’t be your lover.

Word Count: 3,554 (My bad.)

********

You pulled into the driveway of the home you shared with your older siblings and nephews. You popped the trunk before getting out in preparation to get the many groceries you'd just bought. 

You were bent over in the trunk when you heard a man's voice. 

"Excuse me?" He called out. 

You stopped what you were doing and turned to him. "Yes?" 

"Hi, I'm looking for Sam Wilson, does he live here?" He asked. 

"Yes, he does, but he isn't here right now." You answered. 

"Oh okay, um, I'm —" he started. 

"I know who you are," you interrupted him. I'm Y/N Wilson." 

"I didn't know Sam was married," he said shocked. 

You turned around and pulled a case of water from the trunk and gave it to him. Then sat another on top of it. 

"I'm not Sam's wife. I'm his youngest sister." You told him and hooked bags onto his arms. "This way," you led him to the large porch and into the house. 

You walked him into the kitchen where he set everything down, thanked him and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge for him. 

"I didn't know Sam had a sister. It's nice to meet you," he reached out to shake your hand. 

You grabbed the gloved hand and shook it. 

"Sam won't be back until tomorrow. He and Sarah went to get supplies for the boat a few towns over and they’re staying the night." 

"Sam has a boat?" He asked, confused. 

"What exactly do you know about my brother?" 

"Not much, I guess," he shrugged. 

"Wow, a man risks his life and has to go on the run for two years because of you and you couldn't take the time to ask him about his life or family?" You raised your brow at him. 

"Okay, I deserved that," he agreed. 

"Mmm hmm," you turned to put the groceries away. 

"Uh, I'll come back tomorrow when Sam's here." 

"How'd you get here? I didn't see a car out there." 

"I kind of walked from the bus station," he scratched the back of his neck. 

"And where are you staying?" You followed up. 

"I'm good at figuring those things out." 

"Right," you rolled your eyes. "You can stay here tonight. I have to meet my brother and sister at the docks tomorrow and we can just ride up together." 

"Oh, no, I don't want to impose. I'll be fine." He insisted. 

"Have you eaten?" You asked. 

His stomach decided to growl loudly at that moment. It wasn't exactly unusual for Bucky to forget to eat. 

"I'm gonna fry some fish for lunch. The guest room is the third room on the left upstairs. You can put your things in there. Also, lose the gloves. You don't have to hide who you are here." 

Bucky smiled at your back and followed your instructions. He looked at all of the family photos on the wall as he made his way to the room. 

He felt bad for the twinge of jealousy in the pit of his stomach at how happy you all looked. He wished he still had photos of his family to look back on. 

Bucky put his bag on the big plush bed and changed his shirt. He was happy you said he didn't have to hide who he was there. It was hot as hell with those gloves on. 

********

When he returned to the kitchen you were already outside lighting up the deep fryer. 

"Anything I can help with?" He asked when he walked out onto the deck. 

"Absolutely, you can make the salad," you handed him the ingredients and a knife. 

The two of you worked in silence until you were finished and sat down to eat. 

"Thank you for letting me stay here," he finally said. 

"Of course, you're Sam's friend." 

"I don't know about friends. More like coworkers," he laughed. 

"Wow, is that a smile? You should do it more often. It's nice." You suggested. 

Bucky turned red. He couldn't remember when he was complimented last for a non violent act. 

"So, why are you here, Mr. Barnes?" 

"Just needed to talk to Sam about some things and you can call me Bucky." 

"I hope you aren't here to talk to him about the shield. We tried to talk him out of it at first, but he made a decision and just like the rest of us, you need to respect that." 

"He gave it away," he said with an attitude. 

"Actually, he didn't. He put it away, there's a difference. And maybe if you tried to understand his choices instead of having an attitude about it, you'd understand why he did what he did." You matched his fire. 

"Either way, I'm taking it back, because he deserves it. He's the only one who should have it." 

"I agree, but I won't let you give him anymore shit about what he felt was right." 

"I thought Sam was the superhero in this family?" He asked sarcastically. 

"Yeah, Sam protects the world and I protect Sam. You should be happy you're talking to me and not Sarah though, she would've punched you by now," you got up and took your empty plate inside. 

Bucky chuckled and watched as you walked away. His intention wasn't to come there and talk about the shield, but he still admired the way you had your brother's back. 

When you walked back out you had two drinks in your hands. You sat one down in front of him and went to your chair. 

"What's this?" He asked, looking at the red and orange drink. 

"A tequila sunrise. Heavy on the tequila," you sipped from your straw. 

"You know I can't get drunk, right?" 

"Seriously?" 

"Yeah, the serum speeds up my metabolism, so I can't get drunk," he shrugged as he took a huge gulp. 

"I'm sure that sucks." 

"You have no idea." 

You sat outside and talked until the sun went down and then you went inside to clean up the kitchen. You washed dishes while Bucky dried them off and put them away. 

Bucky's phone was sitting on the table when you first heard the familiar dating app notification sound. You ignored it, but by the third time you finally asked if he was gonna check it. 

"It's probably no one," he said. 

"No one? You're getting matches like crazy. Let's see if they're any good," you picked up the phone. 

"What? No, absolutely not." He took the phone from you. 

"Why not? You could potentially find the love of your life out here," you sat down and patted the seat of the chair next to you. 

He finally gave in and sat next to you. Bucky opened his dating app and the two of you looked through his potential baes. He was swiping left on most of them so quick that you had to stop him. 

"You're not even reading their bios. Give it a chance, jeez." 

He slowed down a bit. 

"Melissa, likes long walks on the beach and playing in the mud? Next." He swiped. 

"Ooh, she's cute. Ella, an aspiring model who loves comedy. And look at that, her favorite movie is Robocop," you bit your lip to hold in your laugh. 

"You're worse than Sam," he said annoyed and put his phone away. “And it’s Robocop 3. That’s like the worst one.”

"Oh come on, Bucky, give her a chance she has two dogs!" You laughed. 

"I'm more of a cat guy actually," he said. 

"You're adorable," you continued laughing, “let's go watch a movie," you put your hand out for him to grab and led him into the front room. 

You turned on the TV and scrolled through for something to watch and finally settled on Godzilla Vs Kong figuring the action would be fun. 

"Five bucks says Godzilla kicks the crap out of Kong," you said. 

"What?? King Kong was first. It's only right that he reigns supreme in this situation," he countered. 

"Put up or shut up, Buck," you shrugged. 

He pulled the money from his wallet and sat it on the table. 

Halfway through the movie you were both talking smack to one another. Bucky hadn't even realized how comfortable he'd become. Your legs were across his lap and he was holding them in place. Casually rubbing circles on your thigh every few minutes. 

When Godzilla pinned Kong down and the fight seemed to be over, you jumped up in celebration. 

"Yessss!!!! The dinosaur for the winnnn!!" You danced in front of him. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, show off," he chuckled. 

You finished the remainder of the movie teasing one another along the way, when it ended you went up to get ready for bed. 

*******

Once you were done with your shower you put on your pajamas and went to the guest room to check on Bucky. 

He was standing in the window shirtless with his jeans unbuttoned looking out into the dark yard. You stared at his back. Your eyes tracing his entire body. 

You shifted your stance as you felt your body starting to react to the sight of him. Your pussy was getting wet causing you to forget why you'd even gone to the room in the first place. 

"Everything okay?" You heard his voice break your thoughts. 

"Hmm? Um, yeah, I was just coming to make sure you didn't need anything before I went to bed?" 

"No, I'm okay, thank you." He smirked. "You know you can just ask whatever you want to know." 

You walked further into the room never taking your eyes off where his flesh ended and his metal arm began. You reached up to touch him and he flexed his arm a little causing the plates to shift. 

You jumped back slightly before running your finger down the cool metal and then touching the scar he had. 

"Does it hurt?" You asked quietly. 

"Not anymore, but I still remember the pain," he answered. 

"You're a nice guy, Bucky and I really wish that this never had to happen to you. Although, I can't lie and say that I don't think it's really cool." You ran your fingers over the metal again. 

He took your chin in between his fingers and redirected your gaze to his eyes. He's wanted to kiss you since lunch and has been doing his best to hold back out of respect for his friend. 

"Can I kiss you?" He said barely above a whisper. 

You didn't even answer, just pressed your lips to his. The kiss was needy. You'd both been craving each other all day. He let his hands fall to the small of your back and you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Bucky picked you up and was leading you over to the bed when you could hear your phone ringing in the other room. You broke the kiss and he lowered you to the floor. 

"Shit!" You ran from the room. 

You picked up the phone and saw that it was Sam trying to FaceTime you. You hurried to answer. 

"Hey bro!" You said happily. 

"What you doing? What took you so long?" He immediately asked. 

"I was downstairs when I heard the phone, rudeness," you lied. 

Sam just looked at you. He could always tell when you were lying. Even one as small as that. You decided to switch the subject before he asked more questions. 

"Hey so guess who stopped by?" You said as you walked down the hall to the other room. 

You peeked into the guest room before going in. Bucky had put his shirt back on and stood when he saw you coming in. You stood next to him and put him in the camera. 

" Hi, Sam," Bucky said dryly. 

It may have seemed like a normal greeting, but he was really annoyed that he'd interrupted a moment he'd built up the courage to have all day. 

"Hey, what are you doing in my house Wall-E?" He chuckled. 

"I came to talk to you, but you're obviously not here." 

"Yeah, I put him up in the guest room for the night and we'll meet you down at the docks tomorrow." 

"Alright... You'd better not be getting sweet on my baby sister either," he cut his eyes at Bucky. 

"First of all, my sex life is none of your business. Secondly, there is no sweetness." You rolled your eyes. "Where's Sarah?" 

"You know she needs an hour long shower before bed just like you," he responded in a snarky tone. 

"Well, I'm going to bed, so tell her I said goodnight. I love y'all and we'll see you tomorrow." You said before hanging up. 

You put your phone on the charger for the night and when you turned around Bucky was standing at the door. 

"Goodness!" You yelled as you pressed a hand to your chest. 

He didn't say anything, just rushed over and started kissing you again. This time, even hungrier. 

Your tongues met and your body tingled. His hand gripped beneath your thigh as the other held him up. 

You broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head. The few seconds felt like an eternity for Bucky. He never wanted to take his lips off you, but he did once more. 

"Are you sure about this?" He asked as he trailed kisses down your body. 

He was finally on his knees in front of you. Face in between your thighs. 

"I need to hear you say it, doll." He kissed one thigh. 

"Yes," you breathed. 

"Yes, what?" He kissed the other thigh further down. 

"I'm sure, Bucky. I want you. Please," you buried your fingers in his hair. 

He licked your clit slowly at first. Taking you all in and tasting your nectar. It had been so damn long since he had such a pretty pussy in his face. 

You could hear him moaning as he sucked and slurped on your clit. 

"Ooh, fuck baby, yes," you moaned. 

Bucky's dick was screaming for release from his jeans. It was pressing hard against the fabric and ready for your touch, but he wasn't done with you just yet. 

He spread your thighs wider and stuck his tongue in your tight pussy. He tongue fucked you until you felt your first orgasm approaching. You reached down and started rubbing your clit. 

"Yeah, play with that pussy. Good girl," he praised. 

You rubbed faster. Bucky stuck his tongue back inside and let you fuck his face some more. Your legs shook and the warm juices flowed onto his tongue. He moved your hand and licked from your hole to your clit. 

"Told you I was more of a cat guy," he smiled. 

"Shut up and share," you grabbed his face and stuck your tongue out to taste yourself on his lips. 

You pushed his pants down and tried to flip him, so you could take him into your mouth, but he wouldn't budge. 

"No, need you now," he said as he slowly pushed inside of you. "Fuck," he said in your ear. 

He paused. He knew that if he moved he'd embarrass himself for sure, but you were so wet and tight. Fitting him perfectly. 

Bucky buried his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly started to move inside of you. Allowing you to adjust to him without hurting you too much. 

"You feel so good." 

Hearing you say that made him pick up the pace. He rolled his hips faster and pushed your knees to your chest. He wanted you to feel every last inch of him inside of you. 

He ripped your night shirt in half and exposed your breasts, watching them jiggle as he slammed into your pussy. 

Now he wanted to watch something else jiggle, so he pulled out and turned you on to your stomach. He pulled you up by the waist onto your knees and slid his hard cock back inside of you. 

"Fuck me," he demanded as he slapped each of your ass cheeks. 

You obliged and threw your ass back on his slick coated dick and he watched your ass bounce in the process. He knew he wasn't going to last long like this. 

"That's it, doll, fuck me. I wanna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours." He said. 

His words caused you to cum. Your pussy clenched around him so tight and you knew when you heard the soft, "Oh fuck," leave his lips that he was about to explode. 

Bucky pulled out of you and stood on the bed. He pumped his warm thickness into your waiting mouth while moaning loudly. 

When he was done, you let some of the cum drip from your tongue. He slapped his dick in it and you swallowed the rest. 

"Good girl," he dropped to his knees and kissed you roughly. 

He fell back onto the bed taking you with him. You laid on his arm and traced his jawline with your finger. 

"You're beautiful," he said to you. 

"Thank you," you smiled. 

"Should I start you another bath?" 

"No, I can take one in the morning." 

"Good, because I don't want you to leave anyway." He kissed your forehead. 

"Get some rest," you told him. 

He looked tired and you could tell that he sleeps horribly at night. 

Bucky closed his eyes. You waited for a few minutes before going to the bathroom to clean up. When you came back and laid down, he immediately wrapped his arms around you. 

You snuggled into his chest and drifted off to sleep.

********

When you awoke the next morning Bucky's arms were still wrapped around you. 

"Good morning," he said and planted a kiss on your shoulder. 

"How'd you know I was awake?" Your voice still laced with sleep. 

"Your breathing changed," he kissed you again. 

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your ass. His metal hand traced a cool trail between your breasts and down to your clit. 

You spread your legs to give him better access and then your phone started ringing. You rolled eyes when you saw Sam's name. This is the second time he's ruined your moment. 

"Hello?" You answered with an attitude. 

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine," he said. 

"Samuel, it's literally," you looked at your phone for the time, "shit, it's 10am??" 

"Yeah, exactly you slept in. Get your butt up." 

Bucky didn't care that Sam was on the phone. He slid his fingers inside your pussy and pumped them slowly. Your body quivered beneath his touch. 

"I'm getting — I'll call you when we're on the way." You quickly hung up. 

Bucky chuckled. He moved his fingers faster inside of you and sucked a nipple into his mouth. 

Your orgasm was so close and then he pulled his fingers out. Your eyes popped open and the satisfied smirk on his face let you know that he'd done it on purpose. 

"Next time, don't answer the phone, doll." He kissed your lips and walked towards the door. "Oh and don't even think about touching yourself." He said before he disappeared. 

He was out of his mind. You quickly grabbed your toy from your drawer and went into the bathroom. You turned on the shower and sucked the vibrator into your mouth to wet it. 

You put your foot up on the tub and slowly fucked yourself with the toy. Your eyes were pinched shut and you were so into what you were feeling that you hadn't heard the door open. 

Bucky watched as you pleasured yourself. He was turned on by the sight, but pissed, because he told you not to. He walked over and snatched the toy from you. Covering your mouth, so you couldn't scream. 

"Now, I remember telling you not to do this, doll." He moved his hand and nipped at your collar bone. 

"No, you told me not to touch myself. I used the toy," you said. 

"Real cute," he growled. 

He put the toy on the counter and walked you into the shower. He got down on his knees and started eating your pussy again. 

He should've been punishing you, but instead he was treating himself. Bucky knew in that moment that you were now his addiction. 

You gripped his hair while he held on to the leg that was thrown over his shoulder. 

"I want to feel you. Please," you begged. 

He wanted to deny you, but he simply couldn't. Your wish was his command. 

He stood and lifted you up, slowly sliding you down on his hard dick. He was sure to keep you against the wall, so your hair wouldn't get wet. 

Bucky fucked into you slowly. Enjoying the feeling of your slick walls. He wanted to stay inside of you forever. 

"I'm gonna cum, baby!" You mewled. 

You heard him grunt in response. He was close himself and when you tighten your grip around him he exploded inside of you. 

You bit his neck as your own orgasm washed over you. He finally let you down and the two of you finished the shower together.

Bucky had no clue how he'd break this news to Sam, but he knew he had to, because there was no way he wanted to ever go without your touch again. 

********

[sukunarii]

i pray for the clichést of cliché scenarios filled with romance and fluff that makes your heart squeeze-- so what better than pen pals :) almost like online friends but they’re sending notes on a messenger bird and don’t know what the other looks like and they fall in love except he’s the king of curses the cruelest most feared curse alive and she’s a princess, who may also be worshipped but for very opposite reasons than him- but perhaps it’s an act and she can only be her true self in those letters?? oh my and when they meet KDBDJSJ oooh lovee, the remarried empress webtoon vibes (if you have webtoon i strongly suggest its very good-) uhm anyways....long live sukuna 🙏🏻 amen

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Theme: Historical AU!

Synopsis: You were the daughter of the most well-known priest in the lands. With great expectations that you will take after your father, you often felt like a trapped bird. The one person who understood you, was your penpal. One day, you decided to finally ask to meet him.

A/N: This was a really cute idea, haha plus some of my best friends are online friends that I've never met so I totally relate! Also I love the Remarried Empress, Navier is one of the best fem characters I've seen in manga/webtoons 💕💕

'Could I meet you?', you wrote down on the piece of paper.

Four words. Four simple words. Yet writing them down felt like it took tremendous courage.

With a leap of faith, you attached the message to the messenger bird and gently placed it near the window.

"Please bring the letter to him now," you whispered to the bird before the bird flew off.

You sighed, this was maybe the most ridiculous thing you have done since the first letter you sent.

You were the daughter of the most renowned Priest of the land. You were basically the princess. Yet with this came the responsibility. You were held to high expectations, expectations to learn the art of exorcism. To take your father's position and become the Shaman who protected these lands from the curses, especially the one known as Sukuna. You were a caged bird, forced upon a dream that you didn't want.

A few months ago, you decided to write your feelings into a letter. A letter dedicated to no one and a letter you didn't sign. You attached it to a messenger bird and sent it off. You didn't care where it went or who reads the message. You just wanted to pour your burdens somewhere. Yet to your surprise, your messenger bird returned a few days later with a message in response.

That marked the beginning of your exchanges with a mysterious penpal.

You spent the rest of the day waiting for the bird to return with a message. For reasons that you didn't want to admit, you've been fearing that your penpal would refuse. He was the only person that you could admit your feelings to because of the anonymity, but at the same time, through these exchanges, you've started to fall in love with him. He seems to understand you completely and would often give you advice or be the shoulder you could cry on despite being probably miles apart and not knowing his identity. You loved him so much that you just want to meet him.

Finally at last, some time in the late evening, your messenger bird reappeared at your window with a message that was brought back.

"In two nights, when the moon is high, I'll be waiting at the abandoned shrine atop the mountain."

You sighed in relief, feeling the uneasiness lift off of your shoulders.

Happily putting the letter in the drawer, you put on your nightgown and went to bed.

You pulled the hood of your cape lower in hopes that it will cover your face even more. At last it is the date of the meeting, you've silently sneaked out of your residence. It was not easy sneaking around of the guards, and you could only pray that none of the servants come to check on you at night or else they'll have a heart attack while searching for you.

You were almost at the abandoned shrine, you could feel your heart racing. A million thoughts raced across your mind, who was he. How would he look like. Is he real. Is he...

You were now at the entrance of the shrine. The glow of the moonlight dimly illuminating it's entrance. However inside, a long path of shadow stretches into what feels like an abyss. You could feel your stomach churn and a part of you wanted to run back. You took in a deep breath.

Here goes nothing, you thought and took a wide step into the shrine.

"Hello?", you called out.

Your voice echoed down the halls of the abandoned shrine. You watched your shadow that was stretched on the floor, it truly felt like you were alone. Perhaps, this was all just a sham.

You sighed again, feeling sad and disappointed, you were ready to turn around and go home when suddenly, the little illumination that was provided by the moonlight disappeared. A much larger shadow towered above you.

You gasped. He was right behind you, the recipients of your letter.

Slowly, you turned around.

Standing tall and intimidatingly behind you, was none other than your father's worst enemy. The most feared curse in the lands. Sukuna.

"I—No, this can't be...", you started

Sukuna seem to find amusement with your reaction as the ends of his lips curled ever so slightly.

Finally he announced, "You said you wanted to see me."

There was a hint of playfulness, a 'this is what you wanted, no?' undertone that you felt like it was mocking you.

"You're Sukuna....." you trailed off.

"Yes I am. And you are the daughter of that Shaman, (Lastname)."

An uncomfortable silence filled the air. You tried to regain your composure but it was hard. Was he the one that you were writing to? The one you pour all of your thoughts to, the one that you fell in love with.

"Were you just...using me?" you asked.

This was all that you wanted to know. The one person that you've opened up to and showed your most vulnerable side, you wanted to know that if it was all a lie. If he was going to betray you.

At your statement, Sukuna seemed displeased. He approached you, his lips pressed together in a tight line, "Do not say that my dear. This was not my intention."

"Then what?," you burst out. What else could he want to accomplish?

No words nor thoughts came into your mind as Sukuna held a hand up to your cheek and caressed it. He sighed. Then paused as if recollecting is thoughts. Then he said, "In the first letter you sent, I saw a bird locked up in a cage and I knew right away that you didn't belong in one.

Your eyebrows knitting together, you didn't understand what he was saying completely. The adrenaline rush was leaving you and you could feel yourself starting to calm down a little and letting your guards down.

"W-What do you mean?"

Sukuna chuckled a little, then continued, "I'm sure you knew that I too, was once a sorcerer. But what you probably don't know is why I decided to use my power for myself."

You shook your head.

Sukuna continued, "You see, I've come to realize that humans are selfish. They prey on people that are too kind, that are willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, and throw those people into danger. To protect others, to become renowned, to be celebrated or worshipped, these are all lies. Lies to manipulate people who fall for them...people like you my little bird."

You opened your mouth to protest, however, he held a finger up to your mouth to stop you.

His face was now incredibly close to yours that you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

"Before I let you talk, just answer me one question now, are you living for yourself?"

Seeing that you weren't answering, Sukuna finished, "That's right my little bird. I'll give you the choice. If you truly wish to be free, then come with me. I'll watch over you. Or you can go back to your cage, it's your choice I won't stop you."

With that, Sukuna turned around and retreated back outside of the abandoned shrine. His silhouette slowly disappearing into the night.

You stayed in your spot, not sure what to do. But with his silhouette slowly disappearing, you knew it was now or never.

With a deep breath and a leap of faith, you started after Sukuna.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

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