#it's a simple Friday afternoon and i got inspired

[yandere-romanticaa]

The walk back home from school usually did not take you very long especially if you had the luxury of blasting loud music through your headphones. It was ultimately something small but it made you happy, calm even if the day was rough on you. The tunes would blare in your ears as you'd walk home without a single care in the world.

That was something that truly worried Toru Oikawa.

You actively decided to put yourself in the line of fire by closing yourself off from the world like this. Anyone could jump you, anyone.

Oikawa himself could hurt you if he really wanted to as well. The only difference was that he didn't want to. There's a certain power in that choice and it made it crystal clear to him that whatever you were up to was just silly and stupid. In school you were not like him, well liked and popular. Perhaps a wallflower was a decent description. No one paid much attention to you either, which gave him a lot of advantages he didn't even know he'd want or ask for. Due to his reputation it was always odd to see the smiling and cheerful Oikawa striking a conversation with you. He made sure to never be rude and always wanted to include you in any activity he possibly could. There was a period of time when he was actively campaigning for you to become the volleyball team manager and some of his guys liked the idea too. Iwaizumi, the sharp little cookie that he is, naturally, found this to be suspicious from the very start - Oikawa is not the kind of guy who does anything without rhyme or reason. He said nothing for a week or two but simply decided to watch his friend and monitor his actions.

It became obvious to him that Oikawa was head over heels for you. The feelings were not reciprocated, unfortunately.

Oikawa knew this. It stung. Hard.

He felt a twinge of pity for his friend. As annoying and insufferable as he was Iwaizumi Hajime was fully aware of just how overly ambitious and intelligent Oikawa was. He wouldn't say it out loud even if you held him at gunpoint but he wanted to help the poor bastard out.

Iwaizumi was easier to approach simply because he just wasn't intense as Oikawa. He had charm and charisma in spades but that could be incredibly intimidating sometimes, especially to outsiders. He took his time with you and slowly but surely eased you into the groove of the team.

Oikawa did everything he could to hide his seething jealousy but he wasn't doing a particularly good job. Iwaizumi simply knew him too well to fall for any of his tricks.

The same couldn't be said for you.

The setter is a quick learner and he adapted to you in lightning fast speed. He had his overwhelming moments too but they were all chalked up to Oikawa just being, well, Oikawa. He's just that kind of guy, there really wasn't anything that could change him.

You started to come to their practices and if you were feeling generous, you'd bring some refreshments and snacks along too.

God, did the team start loving you because of that.

Oikawa stood near the treeline, the shadows carefully concealing him as he quietly sucked on the red lolipop you gave him earlier. He toyed with the plastic wrapper which was still kept in his pocket as he watched you go along your merry way, completely oblivious to him tailing you. He was grateful to his best friend for helping him out. Oikawa was embarrassed at himself for just how much be liked you, just how much power you had over him. A few months ago whenever he would approach you he was always met with either a polite greeting or he was just flat out ignored because he said something that set you off or his fans got in the way.

Things were improving with you. Bit by bit, piece by piece. In Oikawa's dictionary the words "giving up" simply do not exist.

He has you in his grasp, you are so close to him that he could almost taste it, feel it. His body buzzed with adrenaline, like a magnet searching for his other half. You were there, you were right there, unassuming and vulnerable, all his for the taking.

However, charm and charisma weren't the only things he had in spades. Patience was one of his virtues as well.

[corollaservant]

Sweet Delight // Gojo x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: You are too nice to be serving rude customers for minimum wage. Rest assured that Satoru will take care of it.

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, noncon/very dubious consent, somno, stalking, knives, deception, mind games, murder mentions, violence (not to reader).. that's all.

A/N: Yan!Gojo is Joe Goldberg to me, idk. Beta read by my guy bsf who said the ending sucked (inspired by quote used in this book)

It started on a Friday afternoon.

He was a regular, came to the store every day to get his coffee. No sugar. Iced. The order was unlike him, he seemed sweet, or at least friendly and inviting, he had the type of eyes your friends gushed over when talking about their favorite movie stars, too blue, too inquiring.

At first he smiled and handed you a bill, told you to keep the change and asked you if he could sit outside for a bit. Of course, why wouldn’t he? The store offered it and he knew it, he was just being polite. He would read from a book, whose cover you couldn’t see, seemed too absorbed and you often wondered how he could concentrate with the café’s obnoxiously loud music (owner’s order to attract customers). He’d more than often catch bystanders attention, be it his white hair, his tall physique or his peculiar blindfold, which he wore sometimes instead of sunglasses, the man was attracting people like a magnet. This one time a couple of girls sat down next to him and talked purposefully loud. He lifted his chair and brought it closer to the register, closer to you. Yet, he still didn’t speak.

The first time he spoke to you besides a thanks and can I sit outside for a bit was when a customer harassed you verbally. You got the order wrong and while you offered a second free drink, he started calling you worthless. Your eyes watered and voice broke as he stepped in

“Please do not offend the barista, it was a simple mistake.” He spoke calmly while being twice the size of the customer.

“This is none of your business, sir..” The customer scoffed as he tried standing upright to make himself taller.

“I said.” Satoru sighed “Please get the fuck out the store or it will be..sir.” While there wasn't any physical threat, the tone was convincing enough to have the customer backtrack, hiss and leave the store empty handed.

“I'm sorry for that.” You told him as he looked at you.

“Don't be, this wasn't your fault.”

“I'm Satoru by the way, remember me?”

Of course you did, he was the most loyal customer.

—

It happened on a Friday afternoon.

Your shift started at 1 PM and ended at 9 PM sharp. Satoru had a meticulous routine: 1-3 was for observing. He wouldn't call it stalking, no, that word was degenerate and he wasn't like that. He was just observing you, your hands, as they moved, expressions as you skimmed milk and some of it spilled on the counter, your interactions with customers. He couldn't risk another incident like before. 3-6 was when he usually made an appearance. Black coffee. No sugar, iced and the table just across the bar; close but not too close. He was disappointed today, you hadn't looked at him once—well, in your defense the café was crowded, yet you still looked gorgeous, even with your sleep deprived eyes and disheveled hair, so soft and pure. He loved that. What would it take for him to get your attention? He found himself balancing between proclaiming his feelings and showing you them but decided on the latter. He would—today.

6-9 he had to wait in his car this time, it was raining but he couldn't leave you out of his sight, what if something happened to you? Your stupid manager had you close the store at 9 PM all alone in the dark, what a cheapskate cunt, not hiring a second person on the shift. Should he kill him? No, that’d be too soon. He would make an appearance before nine anyway.

8:40 was when he got out of the car, sloppily wearing a balaclava he’d gotten from Suguru (his seventh grade ninja Halloween costume) and his usual black work uniform. A knife was in his hands as he noticed you from across the road washing some cups. Perfect, you weren't looking but also careless of you, exactly as expected. He barged in the store and tried his hardest to make his voice drop an octave deeper, shit, would you recognize him?

“Give me your money or I'll stab you.” He was laughing internally but had to put on a fake growl, your expression was priceless.

“P—please don't kill me!” was the first thing you said (brokenly mewled) as your poor hands started shaking.

“I said now.” He said as he stabbed the blade in the air. Damn, that was too easy, you were too gullible.

“P–please I will, I–I am all alone.. one moment–'' Poor you, you had already started crying, tears were falling down your face but you didn't seem to notice. Should he stop this now? Probably.

“How incompetent are you? Are you this slow with customers too?” He decided to tease you a little longer, thriving off of your reactions.

Your eyes shot up for a brief second, was it the customer with Satoru a few days ago? He had said something along these lines, but this couldn't be. He was way shorter and had stopped coming ever since Satoru put him in his place. You were thankful for that.

Your hands opened the register as the paper bills you held threatened to soak, you still had one glove on... you looked a bit silly.

“Hey, hey..” Satoru’s voice quickly returned as the mask was removed “It's just me, see?” He whispered, trying to soothe the tone as your eyes widened.

“S–Satoru, what!?” Your voice trembled as the money fell from your hands and you took a step back.

“I wanted to pull a prank on you, I'm sorry if I scared you.” He smiled apologetically but you still couldn't utter a word.

“W-why would you do that? That's sick!” You cried out as he came behind the bar and tried to pull you in an embrace, knife now tucked in his jacket. To get close to you, to teach you a lesson, to make you need me would be his answer. You punched him on the chest, muffled cries fell from your lips. Well... you couldn't land a blow, that was for sure, but you looked cute with your clenched fists taking out your anger on him.

“F–fuck you!” His firm hands stopped your weak, aimless punches and you sobbed on his chest. You smelled divine, even at the end of your shift.

Was this love?

“Hey.. come on now, I said I'm sorry, okay?” He said as he pulled away.

“Came to say I'll stay with you till 9, it's not safe out there.” He promised as you wordlessly returned to the sink. He'd make you love him.

Around 9:10 you closed the store. His prank had slowed you down, exactly as expected, he figured it wasn't often you lost control and he was proud it affected you. It made you susceptible to control. You silently sat with Satoru outside while he insisted on driving you home.

“I don't need a ride. I'm fine.” It wasn't funny to tamper with your feelings like that, he didn't seem like the type and he'd taken you by surprise; actions like these didn't align with the image he painted for himself. He was always so kind, so protective, so—

“Give me the fucking store keys!” was heard before you turned your attention to the voice ahead of you. A man shouted, not too loud to alert anyone but enough to make a point. The street was empty and he was holding what seemed like a paper bag as you turned to Satoru.

This surely had to be another one of his pranks? You were about to laugh when you looked at him. He seemed taken aback, frozen in his spot and his eyes squinted as your heartbeat accelerated.

“What is it with this neighborhood and robberies?” Satoru talks after a while, his tone is confident as he looks at you and the guy growls. Why is he so calm?What is going on?—

“Shut the fuck up and give me the keys or I'll fucking blow your heads off!” The man says moving his hand to your direction, was this guy bluffing? Did he even have anything under the bag? Was your life about to end? It wasn't like people didn't talk about the criminals in the neighborhood—you’d never work there if it wasn't for necessity.

“And if we don't?” Satoru stops you from reaching for the keys as he fights hard to wipe off the grin on his face. Well, that was unexpected, but he isn't scared, he never is, as you interrupt.

“Satoru! P–please! Let me give him the keys!” You cry out, the day straight out of a nightmare the longer it drags on and you honestly can't put up another fight. You'd rather have whoever this was steal an insignificant amount of money from the register than end your life. Sure, there wasn't much to live for, but it was always different when under real threat.

“You’d give him the keys, really?” He scoffs annoyed. He couldn’t believe what a victim you were, couldn't you see he was right there for you? Despite his abilities you still failed to see him. Silly you.

“What c-can we do? He..he– and we–” Was this really the time? Why is he even negotiating this?

“Bitch, stop talking.” The guy spits, tired of your back and forth, as Satoru finally addresses him.

“That’s not very nice.” He is calm.

So calm that you almost don't see his fist obliterating the guy. One punch and he's knocked down, Satoru climbs on top.He pulls his fists down interchangeably but it's fast and you can't count, must be about seven that leave the guy with no time to react, hands to his sides as he yelps. Satoru reaches for his pocket and is about to grab the knife, when he feels two warm hands touch him and he turns around.

“P–please! Let's just go home!” You sob, eyes wide and the pain in your voice breaks his heart. Home, you said? He gets up and kicks the man’s limbs like a soccer ball—blood oozes down his mouth onto the curb and he chokes on some of it. Satoru's knuckles are stained but he gives you his hand as the pulp ahead withers.

Home.

-

He gave you clothes, a sleep set he had in his closet, you’d never know it was specifically tailored and cut out to your size, how would you know? It’s not like he’d tell you he stole (he called it borrow) articles you discarded at work. Your jacket when too hot, a change of pants as he brought them to the store's bathroom and returned them just as discreetly at 5:30 PM. They smelled like you, but he couldn’t categorize the odor, it was too hard. As for the color.. that he didn't care about. Anything would work really. His mind couldn't stop racing when he heard the shower head start, you'd never agree to his hospitality but that was his home, his rules. You also had a very rough day and it didn't take a lot to convince you.

He offered you his bed, he’d sleep on the couch and despite you objecting, he got you to comply. He could only imagine how much today drained you— physically and mentally. He let you sleep, he wasn't some monster, plus he had work to do. You’d wake up around 9, he calculated, so he had time.

When he finally sat down the couch, he couldn't sleep. Knowing you were there, so close and so vulnerable broke him. He didn't wait for his hair to dry — spot cleaning blood on the sink stole away his energy as he slipped on the bed, you were facing the wall and he placed his arms around you. You made no noise but you didn't seem to be sleeping heavily either, you’d slightly toss and turn. Poor you, was it a nightmare? He smelled your shampoo, it wasn't yours really but a variation of the ones you had at home as his fingers went through strands of your hair. He came closer, wanting to feel your body's heat and moved to your chest. His fingers sought your heart as he felt your pulse. A cock pressed against you—he’d been hard for some time and it wouldn’t go away as his palms searched for your nipples. One pinch and they were already hard, shit, he thought as he moved his dick on you. What if he went lower? Would you be a good girl for him? He moved to your belly as he put one leg softly over you, angling his cock directly at your cunt's entrance from behind while he rubbed against the folds, palms finding you from the front. He loved this embrace, all his to play with. He traced the slit and rubbed some more. You felt so soft and tempting. He’d bet no one could protect you like him and that gave him motivation. Yeah, that was right, he deserved a little thank you for his hard work. He fondles your cunt while his stiff cock annoys him, he’ll deal with it later. He buries a finger inside you, your cunt is wet, he thinks and you're not even conscious. Satoru pumps it slowly, it lubricates you in the process as it coats him halfway—he groans far from your ear and pushes another. You inhale sharply.

He pops them in and out until he fears he's becoming too fast so he removes his palm and uses your slick for his pleasure now. Boxers and sweatpants are removed as he wraps around the shaft, his precum gets smeared on his cockhead and he brings it down his base, it creates a wet mess and he gets off on it. He doesn't need much visually, your back softly breathing is enough to pump faster but— you felt so warm, he reasons, should he? You’d be his soon enough so might as well. He quickly turns to your side and lowers the set you're wearing (you'd think he intentionally sized up so it'd be easier to pull them down) as he pushes your panties to the side. You were a naughty girl, wearing a thong to work. Too dangerous, the world had many perverts. He puts his stiff cock on your entrance as he tries to shove just the head first; he hisses at the contact and you move, it's too late to back down now and he grows desperate. Within a second he tilts his hips into your needy cunt—he doesn't flatter himself, he's big so it's no surprise you groan and he assumes open your eyes. You feel tight and warm and he doesn’t care about your shock—he’s close.

“What.. agh���what are you doing?!” You're cut off in between moans as he ruts into you, you choke on a cry and he picks up his pace. His cock is stuffing you to the brim, it hurts but he can't be considerate. You feel like you can't breathe, dizzy from a nap and a repeated thump down your core. Yet, a primal instinct of pleasure washes away a conscious you telling yourself it's wrong and fuck— you moan out his name. Why do you moan?

“Shit, couldn't help myself, sorry baby.” He breathes out as he bucks his hips up and you feel too full.

“Satoru! S–stop...” But your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues, hands caressing your chest and his breath on your neck while your hips are brought to clash onto his and nasty sounds come from the contact.

“Fuck, so pretty, baby, hm?” He moans and he’s already close, cock throbs as you prettily squeeze him in. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, it’s like you’re made perfectly to accommodate him and look at you!—clenching your cunt like some slut.

“N–ugh– Satoru please—” You cry out, scared but with a heat coiling low that makes you unable to protest louder. You think of his kind eyes, heartwarming grin (“Got these bad boys for you”, as he gave you your favorite cookies) but soon they're gone away—

—replaced by his cock rutting in your damp walls. You're unwillingly sucking him in, you can't think straight, he's... good? No. He's disgusting for this. Water blurs your eyesight—it's too much.

A hand is on your clit as he bites your soft neck at the same time. God, how he longed for this. Having you in his arms. He adored you.

“Want to come on my cock, like the helpless slut you are, baby?” He whispers but it's soft—like he's teasing you for missing the bus and you cry.

“I- agh-n-no..please—” You muffle and beg and his hand circling your clit slaps on the nub repeatedly as you jerk; “I can't—I–” He doesn't pay attention, his cock is ripping you apart and you have to let go—riding out an unwarranted orgasm. He loves your mess, no, he loves you and since you're conscious (not that it'd matter), he lifts your leg up as he angles himself so deep, you yell; overstimulated and still scared.

“Satoru, e–enough!” He's bottoming out in between sticky walls and you ache, hoping for an end.

“Don't be selfish baby—fuck!” He groans as large palms squeeze around your neck and then he's cumming — fast and as much as possible, you think. It feels warm and disgusting, his breathy moans are on your ear as you force your eyes shut. What doesn't make it inside, seeps back out but it’s not a lot, since you’re fully stuffed and he takes his sweet time to pull out. You just feel that good. He plants a kiss on your back as he returns with towels and puts you back to sleep. You cry—he estimates 15 minutes before you give up and let sleep take care of you.

One step at a time.

-

It's your 3 month anniversary. He doesn't tell you that of course, its embarrassing because it's 3 months since he found you, 2 days since he introduced himself. You still work at the café but you don't have to worry, soon you’ll never have to work again, he has big plans. He is proud of himself for finding you, it wasn't often someone intrigued him so much. He liked how genuine you were, naive and a bit dumb of course but that was exactly what made you so pure. He’d bet even at your lowest, you'd never cuss anyone out. Like for example that cunt of a customer the other day but it was fine, he’d do it for you, actually—

A message from Suguru pops up.

“Comin tonight?”

“No, have plans.” He gets bored easily and this time isn't an exception.

“Again? New record?” He can always read Suguru's irony. Funny of him to think he'd stop there.

“I told you I’d take care of it.” Satoru hastily types.

That guy really shouldn't have called you a bitch, it wasn't even in the script. Look where that got him. In Satoru's trunk ready to meet Mr. Worthless. He shuts his phone, he thinks about throwing it away, there's no need for it anyways. Especially when you're here.

He thinks about some quote his dad used to tell him, how did it go? Some are born to sweet delight—

14 minutes till your shift ends. What was it?

—some are born to endless night? It all makes sense now, it rhymes, that's why he still remembers it.

Or maybe you just give the first part a meaning.

[teapartyprincess4two]

heyyy idk if you've been on tiktok but currently in like the editing fandom everyone's been editing the triplets to the song 18 by Anarbor so I was just wondering if you could maybe write for Matt because I think it just fits so well but surprisingly I don't think I've ever seen anyone write for the triplets based on that song and I think you would slayyyy it. I know you've got a couple requests and others you're working on rn so no pressure, even if you don't end up doing this request I'd eat up anything you put out 💋💋

I’ll Play Your Game- M. Sturniolo

pairing: GoodGirl!reader x BadBoy!Matt

classification: angst, fluff

warnings: use of y/n, suggestive content but no smut, mention of parental issues, controlling parents, mentions smoking, rebellious reader, mention of religion & religious trauma, mention of church, reference to the Bible (brief), cliche high school stereotypes/ tropes, long

inspiration: request^^, 18 by Anarbor

summary: You’re the Pastor’s daughter, all eyes are always on you. So, why not put on a show?

—

Ever since you were a little girl everyone expected three things from you; be sweet, pray, and obey. There were 10 commandments, all of them listed plain and simple in the Bible, and you were expected to follow them all. Your dad was strict, he had high expectations of you from the day you were born and upheld them throughout your infancy and childhood. Your mom was a pushover, she’d let your father brain wash her long ago into believing that his way was the only ways.

Your dad kept your weekly itinerary filled to the brim with activities to ensure that you had zero time to misbehave. Everyday after school, without fail, there was at least one activity waiting for you. Monday’s were for Bible study, on Tuesday you had golf practice, the afternoon prayer circle was on Wednesday, piano practice on Thursday, on Friday’s you’d volunteer at a food bank, Saturday’s were for homework and chores, and Sunday was the Lord’s day. Sunday’s were always dedicated to church, if you even thought of doing anything else you’d never hear the end of it from your dad.

That’s why, at the ripe age of 18, you’ve decided enough is enough. You’ve made it your sole mission to rebel against your dad and his ideologies, you’d remove the ‘good girl’ label from your life once and for all. But, if you were being honest, you’d followed the rules for so long that you didn’t even know where to begin.

The only good thing your parents did was send you to a public school, deeming Christian school too expensive despite it aligning more with their views. You’ve made a few friends, most of them also conformists, but no one who’d help you properly rebel against your parents. So, if you wanted to do this right, you needed to find someone new with a bad reputation; Matthew Sturniolo.

Matt was the textbook definition of a bad boy, and if there was a guide he’d definitely check off all the boxes. He had the angsty, quiet demeanor with a touch of humor. His body adorned with a multitude of tattoos, each one representing something different from his life. His hair was long enough to be considered too long by conservative parents, framing his face just around his scruffy beard perfectly. The outfits he wore, matched his mysterious persona perfectly, allowing him to disappear into the shadows seamlessly.

If anyone was going to help you piss off your parents, it was definitely going to be Matt. But you had to start off slowly, this wasn’t a one and done type of plan, it was more intricate than that and you were playing the long game. If you wanted to get to Matt, you needed to get to get to one of his triplet brothers first.

You had two options; Chris or Nick.

Chris was your stereotypical jock. He was the captain of the school’s varsity hockey team, occupying most of his Friday nights with hockey games and following them with a Saturday night full of partying. His weekdays were obviously spent at school, but he did the bare minimum to keep his grades up, he focused most of his attention on flirting with girls. Chris was loud, outgoing, flirtatious, and way too popular for his own good. If you tried getting to Matt through him, he’d surely think you were flirting.

So, if you wanted this to work, you needed someone equally as popular, but not as cocky.

That left you with Nick. Nick was on a completely different side of the popularity spectrum than Chris; he was your stereotypical cheerleader. He, much like Chris, spent his Friday’s at hockey games except he was leading his team in cheers and chants instead. The rest of his time was spent organizing the important school events such as prom and homecoming, and when he wasn’t doing that he was boosting student morale through heartfelt speeches at school assemblies.

Nick was the perfect contender and since cheer tryout were opening up soon, it was the perfect excuse to get to know him. First, you’d earn your spot on the cheerleading team. Then, you’d slowly enter Nick’s inner circle, using it as leverage to finally get to Matt.

It was the perfect plan. What could go wrong?

—

One of your dad’s frequented sermons plays over the car stereo as he drives you to school, he’s adamant on silence in the car so you can fully absorb the message behind the sermon. It doesn’t bother you anymore, you usually just tune it out and scroll through your phone, especially on weekday mornings on the way to school.

Before you fell asleep last night you decided that today was the day, cheer tryouts were after school and you were going to saunter in there, perform your best routine, and complete the first step of your plan.

“Listen, Y/n. This is important,” your dad snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking your gaze from your phone. He turns the sound up, the words of the sermon taking over the car, “Children, obey your parents. Do as you are told and you will be blessed.”

You rolls your eyes, it was always the same thing with you dad. “See, be obedient. God will only bless you if you’re obedient,” he says. The man on the stereo continues, “Parents, do not anger your chil-“ Before the man can finish his sentence, your dad turns the sound off. If he had to follow any rules that gave you any sort of power, he didn’t want to hear them. You side eye him, glad that he’s too focused on the road to notice.

Most kids hate school, they claim it’s a waste of time or that they hate doing all the work, but not you. You’ll gladly welcome the extra hours of homework, volunteer opportunities after school, and early tutoring sessions just for an excuse to get as far away from your controlling family as possible.

Your dad pulls up to the school parking lot, immediately commenting on something he found distasteful before bidding you goodbye. “Be the light, Y/n!” he exclaims as you hop off the car, shutting the car door without turning back to him. A wave of relief washes over you when he pulls out of the parking lot, you felt so tense the entire car ride. But now that you were finally at school, it was time to put your plan into full effect.

You were getting rid of the ‘good girl’ title no matter what.

—

When the last school bell rings you’re practically flying down the stairs to the gym. You wanted to get to the girl’s locker room as quick as possible so you could be the first in line for cheer tryouts. Nothing said ‘co-captain’ like punctuality. Or, actually, would it be better to make a fashionably late entrance? You shake the thought off, you’re just going to be on time. You’re sure Nick would appreciate it.

The tryout requires that you wear a pleated skirt along with a school shirt so that the judges know what you look like in school colors and that you know how to perform in a cheer uniform. As a classified church girl, you had a wide variety of skirts to choose from, but you made sure to pick your newest one just for the occasion. You changed quickly in the locker room, tying a bow into your hair before anyone else arrived.

When the second person entered the locker room, you were already walking out, mentally going through your routine in your head. If you wanted a spot in Nick’s inner circle, you needed to execute this routine perfectly. You choreographed it yourself after watching endless hours of cheer routine videos, making sure to incorporate as many dazzling moves as possible.

The gym is quiet, the only sound being Nick and two teachers setting up the judges table. They’re surprised to see you already dressed and ready to perform, no one had ever been this early before. They’re even more shocked that you’re here, everyone knows you’re the Pastor’s daughter and the cheer team was known for everything but modesty.

“Are you here for tryouts?” Nick asks, a big smile on his faces. He’s excited for the new year and to find a new co-captain amidst the crowd of talented dancers and performers.

“Yes, my name is y/n,” you reply, watching as he finds your name on one of his many clipboards. Suddenly, now that you’re standing in the gym, you don’t feel so confident anymore. The nerves are starting to settle and you’re becoming anxious at the thought of forgetting your routine, messing up and embarrassing yourself, or just not being good enough to make the team let alone become co-captain.

One of the teachers heaves a large stereo onto the desk, connecting it her phone and cueing up your song before asking, “Alright, Y/n. You ready?” Shaky, sweaty hands smooth down your pleated skirt, a long exhale following right after. It was now or never, if you wanted to get back at your dad for all the years of religious trauma it was going to start now.

“I’m ready.”

The teacher smiles at you, all the judges taking a seat behind the table as she presses play on the song. A funky pop beat plays over the stereo, and immediately your routine is in full swing. One of the male judges is humming along to the music, all their eyes trained on you as you dance along the gym floor. The song wasn’t necessarily inappropriate, but you managed to pull out as many sultry moves as possible.

Nick is instantly impressed by your routine, taking down a few notes on how graceful and elegant you move. The teachers, who are mostly there out of obligation, refer to their rubric before giving you a final score. If Nick could have it his way, he’d make you co-captain then and there, but there’s plenty of other girls still waiting to tryout.

You finish your routine in a split, slightly out of breath but trying to keep your composure. The music stops, but the noise is replaced with the judges clapping for your performance, “Great work! The team list will be posted end of day tomorrow. NEXT!”

Just like that you’re being rushed out of the gym for the next girl as Nick sends you an enthusiastic thumbs up. All you could do was hope you earned a spot on the team, and by the way Nick looked at you, you were almost 100% you’d be this years cheer co-captain.

You’re daydreaming about making the team, feeling confident that your plan is working and you’re not paying attention to where you’re waking. So, on the way back to the locker room you accidentally bump into someone, their hard chest causing you to stumble back slightly.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, looking up at who just bumped into.

“No problem,” a deep voice croaks in return, you’d recognize that voice anywhere. You look up to see none other than Matt, fully clad in his signature all black style. His hair falls in front of his face, hiding just enough of his eyes to give him an even more mysterious aura. He smells of cigarettes and cologne, a delicious scent that has you weak in the knees.

Without another word, just a sly smirk, Matt is walking past you and into the gym. He saunters up the bleachers, managing to find a perfectly secluded corner to hide in. Not long after, he’s joined by Chris who just finished hockey practice. Chris doesn’t bother hiding, instead he sits right next to Matt where the gym lights are still illuminating. They’re both waiting for Nick so they can head home, and although they’re tired from the school day, they’ll gladly stay a couple extra hours to watch all the pretty girls do their tryout routines.

Matt can feel you watching him, allowing the darkness to serve as a veil as he looks you up and down. He’s noticed you in the halls before, but never took you for a cheerleader. You can’t even see Matt anymore, but you have to force yourself to look away, quickly continuing your walk back to the locker room.

The next day after school you’re once again rushing down the stairs, trying to get to the bulletin before anyone else. You push past a few people, weaving your way through the crowded hallway. This is the defining moment, if you made the team you’d be one step closer to achieving your final goal: get Matthew Sturniolo.

You must’ve been lost in thought because you once again manage to bump into someone. You stumble back, some of your textbooks falling out of your arms and onto the floor in the process.

“You need to watch where you’re going, sweetheart,” Matt says, reaching his arms out to steady you before you can fall over. The nickname turned your legs to jelly.

How was it that you always managed to bump into him? It almost seemed like fate.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” you reply sincerely, kneeling down to pick up your books from the floor. He does the same, picking up one of your stray books, fingertips grazing your hand when he hands it to you. Your eyes can’t help but travel up his arm, mentally counting and admiring the different tattoos that litter his arms. He notices, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Y/n, right?” You hold your textbooks in a firm, anxious grip as you stand up. Matt is still kneeling, your knees aligned with his face. He lets his eyes trail up your legs and up to your face, a devilish grin on his face. The position felt so compromising, but you had to try an act casual.

“Yeah, you’re Matt. Right?” He hums in response, tracing your entire silhouette one last time before he finally stands up. His height causes him to tower over you, a whiff of his cologne once again hitting you, immediately putting you in a deep trance. Matt is handsome and he knows it, he notices how hypnotized you looked and it only serves as an ego boost.

“See you around, Y/n,” he smirks, sending you a quick wink as he walks outside. “See you around,” you reply meekly, mentally facepalming for letting the anxiety take you over.

You felt like a little mouse who finally gained the courage to scavenge for food only to be chased around by a ravenous cat. The only sounds coming from you being squeaks and chirps, too anxious to form coherent words. This was going to be harder than you thought.

When you finally reached the bulletin, your eyes scanned over the new team roster. Your name was all the way at the bottom in bold, capitalized letters, ‘Y/N: CO-CAPTAIN.’ At least you did that part right.

—

It’s been 2 months since your cheer audition and since then you’ve risen in popularity dramatically. As co-captain you were invited to join Nick at his table for lunch and worked closely alongside him to choreograph new routines. This led you two to become close, your friendship blossoming over the countless hours of cheer practice.

Your dad hated that you were a cheerleader, finding issues in everything about it. He deemed the uniform too provocative, the cheers too sexual, and claiming that you were spending too much time practicing and not enough time studying your Bible. The only reason he didn’t force you to quit was because your mom finally grew a backbone and stuck up for you, advocating that this was a good hobby for you. Cheerleading was the perfect scapegoat, even on the odd days when you didn’t have practice you were able to sneak out of all your other responsibilities. No more piano, golf practice, volunteering at the food bank, or Bible study for you.

Eventually, the hockey season ended so you and Nick modified the chants to fit the lacrosse field. Chris was known to play every sport possible, so you weren’t surprised to see ‘STURNIOLO’ written across one of the jerseys running on the field. But upon further examination, you realized you were seeing double. Matt, who usually watched from the sidelines, was running plays alongside his brother and absolutely dominating the field.

It was hard for you to focus on your routine, your eyes kept following his sweaty figure as it raced across the field. Nick, who notices your sudden offbeat performance, was sending you warning looks to get it together. But you couldn’t help it, Matt had an alluring aura to him that seemed to draw you in without fail each time.

The school band plays loudly over the course of the game, making it hard to hear anything other than the loud drums and trumpets. During a small break, Nick nudges you, mouthing a quick “what the fuck?” You give him an apologetic smile, adjusting your uniform slightly before mouthing back an “I’m sorry.” He gives you a look that says, ‘yeah, you better be’ before getting back in position, ready to cheer the rest of the night away. You do the same, forcing yourself not to look at Matt for the rest of the game.

Before you know it, the game is over and the stadium was filled with hooting and hollering as Matt scored the winning goal. The school and his entire tram cheered for him in unison. You and Nick guided the bleacher full of students in a big chant, cheering for the lacrosse team loudly for their victory, “Yeah, yeah, do we rock? Yeah, yeah, take it to the top! Yeah, yeah, we are never gonna stop! Get wins till the other team drops!” Pompoms are in the air, rhythmically swaying to the beat, your feet twisting and turning as you pop your hips.

These type of events were always full of school spirit, but when they ended and the team headed towards the lockers and the cheerleaders went in search of their boyfriends, the air quickly became chaotic. Especially with everyone else piling off the bleachers and into the parking lot, trying to get home before it got too dark. You stay back and chat with Nick for a while before he dismisses himself to find one of his brothers.

So, now you’re left to wander the field on your own, taking a seat on the grass under the bright stadium lights. You loved moments like this, moments when you got to be alone with your thoughts. All you could think about was Matt, and for a second you thought he might be here on the field with you, the smell of his cologne and cigarette smoke whipping past you with the breeze. You look around, thinking your mind was playing tricks on you.

But it’s not, you see the light at the end of his cigarette deep within the shadows, followed by cigarette smoke that forms a cloud once it dances into the light. For some reason you feel bold, or maybe it’s just the same alluring feeling from earlier that makes you stand up and walk over to him. You can’t see him, but the lit cigarette between his fingers serves as a place marker for his location, the embers crackling brightly in the dark.

Matt’s eyes train on your figure as it approaches, squinting slightly in confusion. He’s never taken you for a smoker, but then again he didn’t take you for a cheerleader and you were clearly the best dancer on the team.

The whole night he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you, even earning a tongue lashing from his coach for missing a few passes. Towards the end he had to force himself to focus, scoring the winning point in hopes of impressing you.

It obviously worked because once your eyes adjust to the darkness you’re commenting on it, “Good job on the field today, that last play was awesome.” There’s a twinge of innocence in your voice that Matt wants to destroy. “Thanks, you weren’t too bad yourself,” he replies, taking a long inhale of his cigarette before blowing the smoke away from you. The wind only blows it back into your face anyways, causing you to cough slightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ready to flick the cigarette on the floor and stomp it out. But you stop him, a gentle hand holding his arm, “no it’s okay, I’ll get used to it.” The comment is bold, but you needed to be bold if you wanted to get Matt.

Was this the same girl that everyone knew as the Pastor’s daughter? Where was all this sudden confidence coming from?

“Oh, will you?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow, dusting the ash off his cigarette before taking another hit. You hum in response, slowly moving closer to him, allowing him to blow the smoke close enough to your face for it to sting. You hold in a cough, offering Matt an innocent smile that he returns with a smirk.

If this was the game you were starting, he was ready to play.

—

From that moment forward, Matt has been obsessed with you. He gave himself a day to decide whether he wanted to pursue you or not, but after hearing his lacrosse buddies talking about you one time after practice, he decided no one else could have you. The comments they were making were typical, the same things they said about every girl they found attractive, but because it was about you it irked him.

So, two days after your fateful encounter on the lacrosse field, Matt was waiting for you to finish cheer practice from outside the gym, fully clad in his lacrosse uniform, sweaty and dirty from practicing just moments before. Chris was standing nearby, chatting up another cheerleader who snuck out of the gym to be with him. Nick always reprimanded Chris for this, especially because it directly affected her performance and it showed on the field when she was struggling to keep up.

Matt debated on whether or not he should do the same, call you out from practice to tell you everything that was on his mind, but he loved watching you perfectly execute your routines during games. He wanted his girl to be the best, outperforming everyone else seamlessly. So, instead he decided to patiently wait for you.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the music in the gym turns off and he can hear sneakers against the waxy floor as you all rush towards the locker room. For someone so dark and mysterious, Matt actually found himself getting excited.

Not long after, you and Nick walk out of the locker room. You’re laughing at something Nick said as you sling your duffel bag on your shoulder. Matt watches as you throw you head back in laughter, the bow in your hair twirling in the wind.

Nick instinctively walks towards his brothers and you follow suit, still too immersed in the conversation to notice Matt. Once you’re close enough, Nick sends the cheerleader talking to Chris a disapproving look that has her scurrying away and into the locker room.

“What was that for??” Chris exclaims, watching as the girl he was chatting up disappears. “Dude you always distract her, it shows on the field. She has the sloppiest performance out of everyone on the team,” Nick comments blatantly, readjusting his bag on his shoulder. “So? Just kick her off then!” Chris retaliates, running an exasperated hand through his hair. “Would you date her if she wasn’t on the team?” you chime in, laughing at how flustered Chris has become. He thinks about it for a while, “no, yeah probably not.”

His response elicits a laugh from you and a scoff from Nick, who begins scolding him. Matt is watching you intently, trying to gain your attention through some form of telepathy. You feel his burning gaze on you, finally looking at him through your long, thick eyelashes. “What about you? Any girls on the team won your heart yet?” you ask, a playful grin appearing on your face. After your last encounter with him, you’re hoping he doesn’t even know anyone else on the roster and just blurts out your name.

“Hmmm maybe,” he replies with a smirk, reaching in his pocket for his lighter and a cigarette. “Oh really? Mr. Tough Guy’s in love?” you tease, watching as he places a cigarette in between his lips and lights it with ease, taking a quick draw of it before pinching it away. Nick and Chris have started walking to the parking lot at this point, too immersed in their own world to notice you and Matt flirting.

“Something like that,” the smoke puffs out with each word, swirling in the air before fading away. He brings the cigarette back up onto his lips, intently waiting for you next move. What you say next is unexpected, “can I try?” You’re pointing at the cigarette innocently, causing Matt’s eyes to open in shock.

“Too strong for you, sweetheart,” he replies coyly, blowing the smoke out through the side of his mouth. “How am I supposed to get used to it then?” you’re referring to what you said the other day, hoping to jog his memory and let him know that you still want him.

Matt doesn’t skip a beat, within seconds he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “Slowly,” he answers in a whisper, taking a long drag of his cigarette before moving his face closer to yours. You’re holding onto his shoulders for support, watching intently as his face gets closer and closer to yours.

Without another word, his lips are inches from yours as he exhales the smoke into your mouth, capturing your lips in a quick kiss. His mouth melts into yours, working the smoke into your lungs with each movement. When he pulls away from the kiss, you’re immediately coughing up a storm. Your nose burns and tears brim at your eyes from the strong sensation.

“Told you it was too strong for you,” he comments with a chuckle, putting the cigarette out on the brick wall behind him before moving his other arm around your waist. Once you’re finally not coughing he speaks again, “Here, let’s try that again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, moving your hands from his chest to his neck. He leans in for another kiss, this time savoring your sweet kiss without any smoke to inhibit his taste buds.

In that moment, Matt knew he didn’t have to say anything else, you became his girl.

—

The next few weeks were amazing, you finally got everything you wanted, all you needed to do now was flaunt all of it in front of your dad and watch how horrified he became.

“Hi baby,” Matt whispers, throwing an arm over your shoulder while you wait in the lunch line. Matt never ate lunch at school, he’d usually get in his car and hit up the nearest fast food place or walk off campus for a smoke break. He found the cafeteria to be too chaotic, there was nowhere to seclude himself and even less areas to eat a meal in peace and quiet. But, that you two are dating, he’s started dragging you along on his school day adventures. Sometimes you’ll just get lunch, other times you’ll sit and talk to him while he smokes, but most times you’ll end up making out in the backseat of his car.

“Hi handsome,” you reply in a cheery tone, tiptoeing so you can plant a quick peck on his lips. He smiles into the kiss.

“Let’s go to my car? I’ll treat you to lunch, pretty girl,” he suggests, already beginning to walk towards his car with you under his arm. You don’t complain, especially because this is the closest you’d ever get to real dates with Matt, especially when under the careful watch of your parents.

You guys end up at a local Mexican restaurant, it was a restaurant that your family frequented on Sunday’s after church so you were well acquainted with it. Once inside, you and Matt are directed to a booth in the back, perfectly secluded and away from prying eyes. He takes a seat across from you, smiling at you in a lovesick gaze.

Maybe it was too early to say it, but Matt definitely felt it; he loved you. He was apprehensive to admit it, even just to himself, because he was scared to get hurt, but so far your relationship has been nothing but sweet.

The waitress takes your order and you don’t even need to look at the menu to know what you want which catches Matt by surprise. “You bring all your boyfriends here?” he jokes, folding the menu and handing it to the waitress after placing his order. “Only the cute ones,” you joke in return, sending him a playful wink. He laughs, holding your hand in his on the table.

“This is my dad’s favorite restaurant, we come here like every Sunday after service,” you explain, taking a quick sip of your drink. Matt nods his head, of course he didn’t suspect you were cheating, but he appreciated the explanation.

“Your dad has good taste,” he comments. You never spoke about your family so everything he knew was by word of mouth. He knew the basics; your dad was a Pastor, you came from a conservative family, and your Sundays were usually occupied with church.

You hum in response, trying to think of a topic to avert the conversation from your dad, and, as if on cue, the front door rings. A customer just walked into the restaurant, nothing out of the ordinary, but upon further inspection you realize it’s your dad. You’re mid sip, choking slightly on the liquid as you try quickly swallowing from the shock.

Matt notices your distress, following your gaze to see what has you so nervous all of a sudden. That’s when he sees him, your dad standing by the front waiting to be seated. Matt’s not scared, but he is nervous to possibly meet your dad. He wants to make a good impression, but with the tattoos, long hair, and lingering smell of cigarette smoke, he doubts he’ll be successful in doing that.

“Speak of the devil,” you mumble, watching closely for your dad’s next move.

Matt’s surprised you’re not rushing to leave, you actually look calm now, almost like you’re hoping your dad will be seated one booth over. For the first time in your relationship he senses an ulterior motive behind your actions and he doesn’t know whether to be scared or turned on.

He remembers the good girl you were, the girl who always arrived to class on time, the girl who would never be caught skipping school and he wonders where this sudden rebellious nature came from. But now he gets it, this is a game to you, you want your dad to catch you skipping school with the ‘bad boy,’ you want to make your dad so upset his face turns red. Matt doesn’t know what to think about that, but if this is the game then he’d happily play along, he’d do anything for his girl.

The restaurant host sits your dad a few booths down and he situates himself in the seat directly facing you, if he looks your way at the right angle he’d easily see you. But he’s too occupied in conversation with the waitress to notice anything, ordering his food before pulling out a book.

“Here’s your food, Miss Y/n,” the waitress says with a smile, placing plates of food on the table. The waitress learned your name from all the years your family visited the restaurant, and although you appreciated the effort, you wanted to slap a hand against her mouth for giving you away. Matt’s eyes go wide, she said it really loud, did your dad hear?

“Thank you,” you reply quickly with a tight lipped smile, trying to shoo her away as fast as possible. You look back towards your dad’s booth, fully expecting him to still be turning pages in his book, but his eyes are locked on you. He’s seething, you can practically see the smoke coming from his ears.

You waited for him to get up from the booth and walk over to your table, but instead he pulls out his wallet and throws a bill on the table, grabbing his stuff and walking out. The waitress watches in confusion, and so do you. What the hell was he doing?

Matt senses the movement, straining his neck to watch your dad walk out. He suddenly becomes nervous because even though he wanted to help you piss off your parents, he also wanted to be the boyfriend parents welcomed with open arms despite his appearance.

When you finish eating, you’re walking out of the restaurant intently searching for your dad. He was sure to be lurking around the parking lot somewhere. You’re holding Matt’s hand, walking slowly to his car.

“Y/n! Where do you think you’re going?!” your dad’s voice booms from the other side of the parking lot. He waited outside until you and Matt finished your meal, not wanting to make a scene in his favorite restaurant.

You watch as he slams the car door closed, storming over to you and Matt with an unreadable expression on his face. “Is this what I send you to school for? So you can skip with.. with this?! What will people think? What will the church think? The pastors daughter off fornicating with a- with a delinquent,” your dad motions up and down Matt’s body, clearly displeased with his appearance and attire. It makes you so mad, but you don’t even get the chance to respond because your dad won’t stop talking, “You’re coming home with me right now. Say goodbye to your phone, cheerleading, and this boy because you’re never seeing them again!”

He attempts to grab your arm, but you pull away. “Y/n. Do not make this any more difficult than it already is. Let’s go!”

“No.” Your reply is short and curt, but it’s stern enough to appall your father.

“No? No?! Who do you think you are?! You’re nothing but a stupid little girl, now get in the car.” He reaches for you again, this time managing to pinch your skin slightly. “Ow, stop,” you exclaim, pushing him away from you slightly. Matt protectively moves you behind him in one quick swoop, using his body to prevent your dad from touching you again.

“Get out of the way, this is between me and my daughter.”

“Not happening,” Matt replies, towering over your dad.

“This is what you want, Y/n? A stupid hippie? He reeks of cigarettes and has tattoos, didn’t I teach you better?!” Matt is fuming at this point, your dad was the most disrespectful person he’d ever met. “Dad, just go. I’m not choosing you over Matt,” you reply, trying to stand your ground, but sounding so weak and small.

“I’m not asking you to choose me, I’m asking you to choose God. But if you want to choose this boy, then go ahead, but don’t come knocking on my door when he gets you pregnant and leaves you,” he yells. Was he kicking you out?

“What?” you ask, stepping out from behind Matt.

“You heard me, girl. Don’t bother coming home unless it’s without him.”

Without another word your dad is walking back to his car and pulling out of the parking lot, driving away and leaving you with nothing but the dust. You watch with teary eyes as his car disappears into the horizon, you never meant for it to end like this. All you wanted was a little freedom, but your rebellious actions have warranted a consequence you never anticipated.

“Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay,” Matt whispers, bringing you in for a warm hug. He’s patting your hair as you bury your face in his chest, allowing the tears to flow. “What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go?” you hiccup, wrapping your arms around Matt’s torso in an attempt to feel him closer.

“You can stay at my house,” he replies and he means it, he’d do anything for you. In retrospect he should’ve seen this coming from the moment he realized you were trying to piss off your parents, but he’s too far gone now to turn back. Matt’s too in love with you at this point for his own good, the only thing he can think to do is protect you.

“Are you sure?” you feel like a helpless little mouse again, except this time Matt feels like a security blanket instead of a potential threat.

“I’m sure.” Matt places a loving kiss on your lips before kissing your forehead and pulling you into him again.

Whatever happened, you and Matt were going to get through it together. After all, Matt decided to play your game.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Shwoop here you go luv u honey bunches thank you for the request. I hope you enjoy!!

Also, I had never heard this song before but it’s def going on my playlist now & I will be searching for those tiktok edits hehehe

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

[dietmountaindewbae]

xviii. oh my love, my darlin'

alex turner x reader

requested by @nela-cutie

word count: 6476

summary: Alex (early AM!) is a close friend of your father's, every Friday afternoon he swang by, you never thought things would change so rapidly with just a few drinks and one song. (60`s inspired fic)

warnings: age g*p, ch*cking, spitt*ng

song recommendation: unchained melody cover by LDR

───── ୨୧ ─────

Every afternoon around 4 pm, your father came home from his laborious work, tired and grumpy, you tried to avoid him as much as possible, giving him a mandatory hug and kiss on the cheek, telling him step by step in order your day at school dully, and with a gentle smile. The only day of the week you weren't faking your smile was on Friday.

Friday was your favorite day of the week, the school was out, and you didn't have to deal with horrid teachers, and their long classes sitting on that torturing wooden chair, you glanced at the clock as you kicked your feet on the dining room table, every Friday afternoon, around 6, that's when Al came around. You heard the bell ring at that time, and not a minute less or more, you came running to the door, giddy like a pony, fixing the bow on your hair and your dress before you opened.

"Hello there, doll face!" His accent slurred through the cigarette, "How are yeh? How was yer day?!" He seemed so happy when he saw you, or that's what you told yourself every time he came by for dinner.

"I'm just fine Al" You kissed his cheek as a polite way to say hello and to smell his musky cologne, and touch his hair that was covered in Vaseline, you played with the little curls that stuck out of it. He looked effortlessly handsome wearing a simple white shirt and jeans under a big black coat, his cowboy belt, and black leather boots with discreet heels.

"You're a sweet thing, aren't you, huh?" He cupped your cheeks together and smiled at your squished face, "I don't even have to ask about school, you're a brilliant little girl, I'm sure of that!" You like that he never had to ask unnecessary questions, he was confident about your abilities and the type of girl that you were, "New dress isn't it?" He gently puts your hand on your waist, examining every single part of your checkered dress, you were thrilled that he noticed it, indeed it was a new dress that you bought just for him, you weren't used to wearing short baby doll dresses but it was what was in, the new style for all girls, you pair it with knee high socks, and your usual jewelry, a thin pearl necklace that you stole from your mother, a red lipstick stolen from your mother too, mascara, there was no need for blush around Alex, he always made it appear with no effort, "Looks pretty on you" He slowly lets go off your waist.

"Thank you Al" He insisted that you just call him Al, not sir, mister, or uncle, just Al, sometimes you called him Turner, but never anything else, he told your father it sounds a bit odd for you to call him that.

"Where's that dickhead!" Your father says from the stairs, tearing apart your five tiny seconds of heaven with Al, another thing that saddened you was that you never got to spend so much time with him, or not as much as you'd liked.

"How many bloody times do I need to tell you to not swear like that?" Your mother yells from upstairs, pinning her pearls to her ears. "Don't go effing and blinding in front of your daughter otherwise she's bound to have your cursed mouth!"

"I'll be dammed!" He spat, hugging Alex and putting his back, "Come sit!" That was your queue for you to serve everyone's food, as your mother poured the drinks, tonight, and like every other, the grown-ups had sour margaritas to swallow down the bitterness of their lives.

"And how many times do I need to tell you to put on some damn shoes!" Your mother yells at you, you quickly fetch your black shoes and go to the kitchen alongside your mother to set the table.

You put the steak in the middle, the salad on the left right in front of your mother since she insists that you and her keep their figure, mashed potatoes on the other edge where your father was, bread and butter, and some gravy, you poured yourself a tall glass of pink lemonade.

"Cheers," Everyone says with their drinks up high, you smile and begin to eat, Al sitting at the center of the table and you next to him.

"I think Bill's bound to get fired from the company..." The conversation fades to the back, turning itself into brown noise, you watch Al smile and eat his food with joy, you like the shape of his face, strong features, furrowed eyebrows, dark brown eyes, big broad nose, and thin harsh lips, he was a dream.

"....Honey!" Your mother calls, "Remember the pie!" You excused yourself from the table bringing out of the kitchen a warm and sweet pie made with fresh cherries and whipping cream on the side.

"She's getting better and better at making the family recipe, she's got it with the baking, hopefully, she learns how to cook a good meal next" Your mother raised her eyebrows, and you sealed your lips, Alex kicked your feet to grab your attention, his proud smirk on his lips make you bite down on your lower lip as you serve him a slice.

"That's the only thing that I'm happy she's got from her mother!" Your father breaks into hysterical laughter while yours fades, "That and the face, clearly"

"At least we can agree on something!" Your mother says, everyone returns to the conversation as you quietly eat your slice of pie, you feel Al kicking your leg beneath the table, again your eyes meet his, and he smiles as he eats your pie, you look down at your feet touching, you kick of your shoe, your white socks gently tap on his leg, and your whisper a 'thank you' the tips of your fingers caressing his leg, you smiled as Al shifts on his seat, he pulls away his leg, and looks away, you feel bad and return to stare at your plate, did you get too friendly with him?

Later on, at night, some more of your father's friends from the office join in, smoking cigarettes in the backyard, your mother had left to go out into the city with the wives while the husbands stayed, Al being the only one to admit to himself he was happy being divorced, all of the other women looked fancy and gorgeous, with their wedding rings off, free, discharged, while you had to bare with their woozy smiles as they ask you to serve them food and drinks. You wished some day you looked like them, with a bigger pair of everything, for your edge you still looked and dressed pretty junior.

"Why'd don't you give her some to drink, let her relax she's been cooking the whole day," Al suggests out of the blue, taking your father by surprise, you sat next to him completely silent.

"Well, if her mother isn't here, I guess she doesn't have to know either, but just one, and you go to bed, right dear?" You nod your head at your father, and you discreetly smile at Alex as you go fetch a cup to the kitchen, when you came back your dad puts on the table a bottle of rum, a can of beer, and vodka, "Choose whatever you'd like"

Nothing caught your attention, other than the clear vodka, it looked just like water, you saw an ad for it on the screen, so you grabbed the bottle, and all of the men clapped and laughed at you, you poured some into your cup, all of them clapped and kept laughing, but you didn't get what was so funny. Al glanced at you and picked you up by your elbow.

"I'll mix her up summat real quickly, we'll be back" You followed Al into the kitchen as he grabbed your jar of pink lemonade and poured it into the blender, with your vodka and a bit of juice, once your drink was done, he spooned a cherry into your glass and a little umbrella on top, "Enjoy!" He said with a bright smile, you avoid his gaze and sip on the drink.

"It tastes good" The sweet drink has that taste of alcohol, gentle but burning your throat slowly, until it falls on your stomach and sits there, spreading through your body.

"What's the matter?" He said, sounding a bit concerned.

"Nothin'" You answered, sipping on your drink, "I just feel uncomfortable around all of 'em, I don't know why they all laughed at me like that... like I'm some sort of joke,"  He held your hand and sat next to you, putting your hand on your cheek.

"I'll watch ya, don't you worry, and if you start feelin' dizzy you go on and tell me, right?" You hummed as a yes, you thought about it before but you thought he wouldn't mind if you grabbed his arm as you walked back, he gave you a caring smile and walked out with you, putting his chair closer to yours.

More liquor washed away everybody's sorrows, including yours, and turned them into bursts of laughter and songs, every time your cup emptied, Al went to the kitchen and served you vodka mixed with soda or juice, asking if you liked the taste each time, you guessed he wanted you to figure out what do you like drinking your vodka with.

"Pull out that guitar big boy, sing us a song" You loved it whenever Al played his guitar and sang one or two songs, he had a gifted voice you always said he should've taken advantage of that. He giggled and everyone began to give him some encouraging pads on the back, nudging his shoulder until finally, he called it. He stood up and waved his arms up, giving up and letting the rest celebrate, he went to his car fetching his guitar from his back trunk.

"Alreyt!" He went back to his seat next to you, taking out a beautiful shiny acoustic Gibson guitar from a dark brown leather suitcase, and from the pocket of his coat he pulled out his cigarettes and a box of matches, "Hold this for me quickly sweetheart" He gave you his cigarettes, red Marlboro's, and he flicks on his match, you hand him a cigarette and he puts it in between his teeth, you make a little house with your hands to preserve the fire from his match, the cigarette lights on fire, smoke coming out of his nose like a bull, and he hands you his cigarettes for you to take care of, he made you go mad over the most simple things like tunning his guitar and the smell of his cigarettes, it wasn't fair at all.

"Frank!" A buddy of your father's says, all of them agree, and at that moment, a clever idea pops into Alex's head.

"I have a better idea" He rubs his hands together, putting his cigarette in between his strings,

"Oh... my love, my darlin'"

"Sing it with me," He turns his head to you, "C'mon I know you fancy this one" He winks his eye at you, he gives you a countdown to jump in, looking at you the same way he always did, confident about you, and your abilities even if you constantly doubted about them.

"I've hungered for your touch... a long, lonely time"

You sing a step higher, and he smiles at you, strumming down the next chord and singing with you, "A long, lonely time"

Alex knew from the look in your eyes, that you felt the same way as he did, it was hard to admit to himself that, since that day he met you, you were running around the house in your school uniform with your white pair of knee socks, looking for your book, he had fallen in love like a fool, it was so simple he couldn't believe how easy it was to love you, he loved how comfortable you felt without shoes on the grass, even when you wore all of those knots in your hair to make it curly, whenever you put on lipstick for dinner just for him even if it wipes away easily, he loved how you rolled around in the grass as your fingertips fell the petals of the tiny flowers that grow in your backyard, you had bloomed into an irresistibly beautiful, kind and charismatic girl, it was so tough on him, to have you in front of him, with that sparkle in your eyes and your blushed cheeks, and not being able to do anything to you.

He was at a loss for words, that's why he sings to you, and simultaneously you end the song singing.

"Are you still mine? I need your love I need your love, Godspeed your love to me..."

In the meantime, you had three or more lemonades, you stopped counting after Al had set his eyes on you as he sang, rocked by his voice, you couldn't help yourself, you were falling deeply for him each time he came by your house, and each moment you didn't see him, you just imagined him and you together, going on dates to see films, buying books for each other, maybe even going to the beach someday, holding hands on the street, writing you songs, kissing... you sigh, those ideas that floated in your mind kept holding you back from wanting anyone else or even considering liking anyone else, the idea of him, no one else could match his size or even fill one of his shoes, you felt pathetic, so you drank down another cup.

The hours went by, and one by one, everyone started to head out, they all went to hug you goodbye, Alex watching you from a distance, the three of you were left in the backyard, but it didn't take long until your father began to get grumpy and angry, rambling about money and the company, that's what he only talked about these days.

"I'll handle this one," Al said, "Go to bed you old dog" Al helped your father up, holding each other's shoulders and going upstairs, you felt your tummy weird, you felt those tingles starting to get bigger as Al had left your side, you didn't understand why did you have that strong and lingering feeling, you needed him now, needed to be by his side, needed to hear his voice, and have his gaze fixated on yours. You became anxious, impatient for him to come back.

You heard the heel of his shoe clacking towards you, you turned your face to look at him, sitting upright and putting your hair away, "You're back" You said with a smile.

"I never left," He said, lighting up a cigarette with a match, the fire burns his cigarette and he inhales the smoke that came out, and you did too, relaxing into the air, "How you feelin' love?" He asked you, with a smudge smile he raised your face, "I see a little bit of red in your cheeks and...lips"

You immediately put your fingers on your bottom lip, "Oh... must be my lipstick then" You added, "I'm feelin' fine Al" You said sounding confident.

"Mmm... or didn't you lie to me about never drinking before? You look as if you haven't"

"I would never lie to you Al" You quickly replayed, too quickly since he smiled widely, looking satisfied in some way, his eyes glimmering when he looked at you, he bit his bottom lip, looking at you up and down slowly, he scratched his chin.

"I better get goin' it's late," He said but before you could stand up, you put your hand on top of his.

"Maybe I can pour you another margarita before you go, we could talk... we never really do" He furrowed his eyebrows but smiled.

"Can't say no to you sweetheart" You stood up, but as you did you felt dizzy, you tried to compose yourself quickly enough before he realized, you went into the kitchen and mixed his drink, and at the same speed, you came back.

"Can you pour me some pop for my drink?" You asked him, giving him back his cup, he looked at you strangely but poured another one for you, and you took another sip as Al drank his.

"Bloody good margaritas you make sweetheart, so... what'd ya wanna talk about?" He put his drink on the floor, running his hands through his hair.

"Umm..." You giggled nervously, but it lasted too long, you tried to calm yourself down but couldn't, "Sorry..." You covered your mouth with your hand.

He giggled along with you, "You feelin' it?" You nodded your head, "That 'appens when you sit down and drink, I'm not sure how, but when you stand up that's when you begin to feel it, you outta be careful when you go out with your mates" You smiled to your feet and said yes with your head.

"The girls like goin' out for shakes and watch the lots chasing a ball like idiots," You rolled your eyes, and your cheeks blushed.

"Got a boyfriend?" You said no with your head, he looked at you with a fainted smile, relieved to know so, "Why not? You're beautiful"

"I never know what to say to 'em" You answered with honesty, "They want this mysterious woman, a femme fatale, chic and cool, I'm none of those things, they just say I'm a funny girl, no one takes me seriously, I barely even talk now" He raised your chin, grabbing your hand, looking you deep in the eye with his tender look.

"You don't need to be that, you're beautiful, lovely lovely girl... does wankers don't know what they're missin' out on... round eyes, pink lips, blushed cheeks, pretty smile..." Your breathing stopped as he got closer, he licked his bottom lip, his eyes looking at your face with sweetness and love.

"You're describing every girl in this town" You answered, he moved his head saying no.

"No other girl could ever be just as precious as you darlin'" You chuckled breaking apart the short space between you, putting your head on his shoulder, "You need to go to bed, it's gettin' late for you" His hand lands on your knee, every single little touch that he gives you lasts a lifetime in your head.

"But tomorrow I got the whole day free... I don't need to wake up early"

"I could take you out for some shakes... you know, just you and me perhaps... keep going with our conversation" Your face shoots up, was he asking you out?

"Sounds nice" You slurred, he grabbed your hand, you stayed silent until out of the blue, you asked, "How did you know that unchained melody was my favorite song?" You feel Alex get tense, and shift in his seat.

"Maybe I've heard you sing it a few times before..." He admits, "You 'ave a pretty voice sweetheart," He caresses your hand with his thumb.

"So you observe me... that's creepy" You joked, "What else do you know?"

"Not much... I know you love to read about philosophy, and your favorite book is The Bell Jar 'cause you always ramble 'bout Buddy and how stupid he sounds at the end of the book when he asked if there was something in him that made women go insane, the shock therapy...." You couldn't stop laughing now, "You like to read Albert Camus even though you hated to read about him in school, you love Bob Dylan and Cash, you can't live without vanilla floats or red nails, and you despise wearing shoes at your house," You nod your head, everything he said was right, it intrigues you, "'Cause you say that-"

"Shoes are the ones that keep you away from having your feet on the earth"

"How do you know all of that?" He swallows down a big lump in his throat, his lips dry and his mind in a trance, "I mean, not even my father knows that... and he buys all of my books" He was debating himself in his head as he stares at your bambi eyes, how could he do this to you? how could he ruin something so simple with just a few words? He knows it's wrong and cruel to admit his love for you even if the looks between you already confirmed the fact that you like him too, he had his reasons as to why he never said anything to you, or why he loved to watch you from a distance, because you're a young girl, with way more ahead of you, and he was ten steps ahead of you. He drew back what he truly wanted to say.

"I think you're very interesting, and I also think..." Your eyes light up at that pause, "That you should go upstairs, bunny" You groan and kick your feet.

"I don't wanna..." Helping you to stand up, you took advantage of the moment to hug him close and tightly, "I wanna stay here, don't you wanna stay here with me?" His warm hand caresses your soft hair, rocking your body as he hums a sweet song, and your lips fold into a pout.

"Of course I wanna stay here, but I'm old and very sleepy, don't do this to me..."

You look up as you feel his gaze on you, and you stand on the top of your toes to give him a lingering kiss on his cheek, when your lips tear away from his warm skin he looks at you with more than just care, he had the kind of look you only saw on movies, or read in books, that look that makes you weak at the knees, that magnetic look that brought your lips together into a deep kiss, he opened your mouth feeling his lips land on top of yours, your mouth tasting like sweet cherries and lemonade, you were dizzy on the smell of his cologne, and his unique scent, his arms drop to your waist, pulling your body closer to his as you pull his face down, praying that he doesn't pull away too soon, but he didn't, he kept kissing you with passion that turns into lust and a deep desire for more, slowly his hand lands on your lower back.

He was gobsmacked at the way you kissed his mouth, so pure, "Don't stop kissin' me, I've been waiting for this too long" He holds your face with one hand pulling your lips to his, his thumb caressing your cheek, and dropping to your neck, you unconsciously moan into his mouth as you feel a big ache between your legs, butterflies on your stomach.

"Me too," You confess, still you can't look into his eyes but he does the job of putting your gaze on his, "I think I wanna go upstairs now" You look at him through your lashes, and he sighs.

"If you say the word" You bit your lower lip, and all of the scenarios ran wild in your head, but you were in awe that this was happening, he kissed you and took you upstairs to your room holding you in his big arms, drunk and seeing stars, thinking about only him. He puts you down once inside your room, locking the door, kissing you with the lights off beneath the pale moonlight that shines on his face.

"I'm all yours if you want me Alex" He sighs, his heart beats for you, he breaths for you, he yearns for you.

"Don't tell anyone about us love, can you keep that promise?" He whispered.

"I can, and I swear I will" You kissed him lovingly, walking back to your soft bed, "If I have you, I don't think I need anyone else" He groaned as he bit on your lower lip, he was so turned on by your words, you depend on him, you need him as much as he needs you, you root for him.

"That's a good girl," He hovers you over in your bed, his hand in the middle of your chest, feeling your rapid heartbeat, and it slides down to your tummy as if he could feel all of the butterflies in your stomach, he wanted to know if you felt the same way as him, suddenly his hand began to slide down to your lower abdomen carefully, and you felt the butterflies come alive once more, you wrapped your legs around him, forcing him to stay where he was, your tongue slipping inside his mouth, dancing with his in beautiful pace, your fingers pulling on his hairs, twisting bits of it in between them, his hand inside your inner tight, digging his nails into your skin as he kisses you hard and needy, his hips slowly began to grind against your thigh, creating yummy warm friction and that's when you felt how hard his cock was, rock hard, and probably hurting.

"I-..." You sighed as he kissed your neck, "I want to... uhm..." He kept placing sloppy wet kisses all over your neck, and collarbone, you were losing yourself in the pleasure.

"Come on, you can do it, babe..." A low chuckle came from the bottom of his throat, you didn't know how to say it politely, so instead your hand went down to feel his abs, he pulled his face up as he felt what you were doing, your doe eyes conquering his heart and pushing his impulses to the limits, then your hand dropped to his pulsing cock that bulged thru his jeans, he moaned as your little hand began to stroke him, he looked deep into your doe eyes, there was innocence and purity, something that he wouldn't let anyone else take it away for granted, he felt glad you had picked him because he knew exactly the way to treat you.

You had grown a bigger desire for more, he keeps moaning into the light touch of your hand, only making him get more tense, and hard, so fucking hard that he couldn't keep it in his pants for longer, "Babe, you're makin' thing worse..."

"Why?" You said with preoccupation, stopping the movements of your hand.

"'Cause you're making me want to fuck you even more in that pretty little dress of yours..." Your cheeks blush harder, maybe both of you had a loose tongue now, and still, you never knew what to say to him, "If you let me, I swear nothin' in this world will hurt you" Only he was the one that could hurt you, but you were allowing him to do so if the time comes, "I will be careful, and we can stop whenever you need it, that's if you want to-"

"Of course, I do" You quickly answered, he smiled taken by surprise, and he pushes one eyebrow up with a cocky smirk.

"Why? You need me?" His fingers trail down to your panties, a poodle of wetness soaking through them.

You whined and said, "Like I never needed anyone else" You make him smile from corner to corner, and he kisses you with lust and desire, his veiny and strong hands pull your dress up to your waist, his two fingers feeling the dampness of your panties, while you quickly untucked his shirt to feel his skin, his fingers gently unbuttoned your dress to grop your tits, moaning into his mouth as he kneads them like dough, you liked how hard was he gripping them, how hard he needs you, and how badly he wants to be inside you. He tore away the warmth of his big body to undo his belt and throw it away somewhere in your room, you sat up and unbuttoned his pants, looking up at him as you take his pulsing hard cock out of his boxers, you were stupified by the size and the feeling of his dick.

"See what you do to me now sweetheart? Whenever you're around with your tiny babydoll dresses, running around in your ballerina shoes, I think about how full your mouth would look with my dick inside it when you suck on your lollies, or how tight is your cunt whenever you sit cross-legged in front of me like a little lady, I just love whenever you bend over and I can see your panties... I wonder if you do it on purpose, to provoke me" He was sick as a dog for looking at you like that, admiring you just like that, but you were just as sick because you liked it.

"You'll find out tonight" You grabbed his cock confidently even if your hand was shaking slightly, you tried to let things flow and do as your gut tells you, you began to stroke him just as you were doing, and Alex looked at you with a silly smile, his quiff all messy, "What?"

"I love how hard you're trying to convince me that you know what you're doin', it's cute" He pinched your chin as a sign of love, "Open your mouth," He admired you like that for a second, with your pink tongue sticking out, and your pouty lips, "Fuck... I've always wanted to do this" Before you could ask him  he spits inside your warm mouth, you didn't feel disgusted, you liked it, he took his cock and rammed his tip all over your lips smudging your lipstick, your cheeks flushed hard and he sticks his cock inside your mouth without warning, letting out a concealing moan, a drown out gasp as he grabs a fist full of your hair and moves your head in a jerking motion, fucking your mouth gently, leaving you breathless, you swallowed hard, "Suck like you suck your lollies, babydoll, do as I say..." He orders, and you do, twisting your tongue around him and hollowing your cheeks, sucking hard on his dick running your fingers thru his sexy v-line, he groans as shivers cover his whole body, and he swallows down the big desire to have you gagging and chocking on his dick into you ran out of breath, the sounds of your mouth slurping and tasting his dick inside your mouth were enough for his mind to run wild ideas, "Fuck... fuck, keep sucking hard babe... oh your mouth feels so nice... if your mouth is this little I can imagine how tight your cunt must be... nice and warm" You choked as Alex pulled your head harder and harder, your tears staining your cheeks digging your nails into his strong arms, and when he noticed he immediately pulled away, holding your head in his hands.

You were panting for air, your hand on your chest feeling your heart about to explode, "Was I any good?" That's your only concern in this moment, he looks at you with tenderness.

"You got me so close, I couldn't help meself... you just make me lose it completely, I'm sorry... maybe we shouldn't-" You cut him up with a kiss, the idea of not doing it with Alex now was a big no, you had the chance now, and you needed him so badly. He gently lays you down in your bed, you eagerly stripped down your panties to your feet kicking them off, "You cheeky girl, come to me, I'll make yeh a real woman now" You smiled, "And I'll be a good man for my girl, I'll make yeh feel some real love" He angled his cock at your pussy, you were running out of air just before he even does something to you.

"Is it... going to hurt a lot?" You look at him wide-eyed, his arm next to your head as you feel his tip right on the entrance of your most sensitive spot, he stares at you back caressing your face.

"If it hurts a lot you stop me, alright? I'll be careful... I'm with you, you call the shots babe" You giggle giving him one last sweet kiss on his lips, "I just wanna be yours" He kissed you deeply, losing yourself through the kiss, and then you felt a stinging pain in between your legs, feeling how something inside you was torn apart, and a stinging stretch, you whined twisting in your bedsheets, Alex quickly covered your mouth to prevent you from being heard, "It's ok... ok, you'll be ok I'm sorry, didn't want to hurt you..." You could finally breathe as he pulled himself outside you, Alex helped you to calm yourself down, helping you to breathe.

Once you thought you could try again, you nod your head, "I'm good..." You assured him.

"Listen to me" You carefully paid attention to his words, "I want you to close your eyes now" He gently slid his fingers through your eyes, "Hear my voice, and breathe," He held your hand, fingers intertwining, he aimed his head at your entrance, you began to feel nervous again, "Hear my breathing" He sounds calm and steady, you composed yourself breathing in the same way as him, then slowly he pushed himself in, halfway you felt the stinging come back, Alex moaned deep and breathy, you liked hearing those sounds come out of his mouth, they made your insides wetter, making it easier for you to be less uncomfortable, "Do you feel the pain fading away?" You nod, and whisper a simple 'yes', "Do you feel how close I am to you? I love feeling close to you my love, you must know how much I've always wanted you"

"I feel it" You breathed out, soon the pain turned into a growling pleasure, you were starved for more, your legs wide opened for him as he slowly and gently thrusts inside you, your mouth opens to moan gently, he heard you moaning so quietly it made him start to lose it again but he composed himself, kept going slow but building up a good pace for you, his fingers descend to your swollen clit, rubbing it in circles, adding more pleasure, making your legs lock on his hips, and your mouth to get louder, "That's good, babe, atta fuckin' girl... oh fuckin' hell you feel so fuckin' tight, I love it so much..." You moan louder as you feel him pushing himself entirely inside you, his balls pressed against your inner thighs, "Feel how deep I'm inside you now babe?" You hummed with pleasure, licking your lips, remembering the taste of his cock, but it was nothing like the feeling of it inside you now, nothing could compare to this feeling, this bond that was forming, more than just your hands holding, more than just his eyes on you, or his kisses, the intimacy and care he had for you, nothing had prepared you for this, but Alex was the best choice for you to tie this bond.

"I feel somethin'-" You said panting, Alex craving your sweet juices he pressed down hungrily on your clit, rubbing it in big circles with his thumb, "Oh! my... that's so good, ah! fuck..." He giggles at your curses, you grind your hips into him, and he speeds up his movements until he touched that place deep inside you, that place was like a cave that he lit up and set in flames, and the heat raises between your bodies, your eyes go white and you see stars as you come all over him, your legs trembling and he moans into your mouth, feeling your walls clenching around his cock, covering it entirely on your wet and sweet release, he moaned into your pillow as he pulled his cock out and jerked it, you threw his hand away and jerked it for him.

"Fuck!" He groans between gritted teeth, "Faster babe" He puts his hand on top of yours, closing it in a fist and jerking his slippery cock hard, "That's how me cock fucks my fist every single fuckin' night dreamin' about this, fuck... you fuckin'" He moaned loudly into your mouth as he came in hot spurts inside your belly button, "Oh fuck..." He panted, and he collapsed on top of you, both of you sweating cold, feeling each other's rapid heartbeat, smiling at each other like fools, your body began to relax and you closed your eyes enjoying that after-bliss and the weight of his body on yours, but it didn't last that long until you felt something warm seeping out of your legs, you reached in between them, your fingers came out with some blood.

"Shit!" You jumped out of bed before it could stain your sheets, wabbling into your bathroom, "You must be kiddin' me right now" You quickly sat down on your toilet cleaning out the little blood that was coming out of you, "Fuck fuck fuck" You muttered under your breath, there was no way something so nice could turn this embarrassing, you didn't understand.

"Tell me what happened," Alex rushed to the bathroom in his boxers.

"No, don't look!" You said, feeling tears in your eyes forming, "I think I got my period, I don't know how it came so soon, I'm so sorry, I-" You cleaned up your belly button, you were like a canvas covered in paint, everything was leaking out of you.

"Babe, sometimes girls bleed... it's ok, is it a lot though? 'Cause if it is, we need to go to a doctor now-" He was growing worried and guilty, he didn't think he was being too rough, you were enjoying it, and you could feel him getting scared.

"No, I'm fine, I just didn't remember this could happen, it's not a lot, I'm good I swear baby..." He smiled at the way you sweetly called him baby.

"Ok babe, do you need anything?" He asks kindly, you blushed.

"Mmm, maybe just calm down?" Both of you giggled, you stayed in the bathroom until the bleeding stopped changing into a fresh pair of panties and when you came outside you found him waiting for you on the edge of your bed like a puppy with his big brown eyes, and messy hairl "Hi" you waved.

"You feelin' alright now?" You hummed as a yes, "Go sit down, I'll change you up," He pulled out your dress, brushing your hair away from your face with his fingers, he took a good look at your breasts and your pretty fresh set of panties, completely mesmerized, "Or not?" You giggled and crawled to bed, choosing to stay like that with him, both naked and warm inside your bed sheets.

Until you burst your little happiness bubble "Do you have to go now?" He melts into the sound of your shy and pretty voice.

"Don't think 'bout it for a second, just close your eyes" He held you into his arms, humming a song to your ear, "I always think of you when I hear that song,"

"Give me, give me, give me

what I cry for

you know ya got the brand o' kisses

that I'd die for 

You know you made me love you"

[nonstoplover]

a reason to stay ~ sebastian vettel (sv5)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: sebastian vettel x fem!reader

song inspiration: reason to stay ~ brett young

summary: just a small drabble about sebastian not wanting the love of his life to get up and leave for work in the morning

words: 2.08K

a/n: this song is literally one of my all time fave songs, brett's genius lyrics can always reach very deep into my heart. i always wanted to write about the situation depicted in the song, and when i listened to it yesterday, i accidentally looked at one of the pictures i have of seb on my wall, and i just knew that it's got to be him i write this about. this song screams sebastian vettel for me. anyway, enjoy!

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb! any feedback is well appreciated!

Saturdays are Sebastian's favourite days since his retirement from Formula One. You may ask, why? It's simple. Those are the days when his wife finally doesn't have to go to work, those days he can have her all to himself. The whole damn day. And without any stupid housework coming up that she just needs to do, as it always is with Sundays.

It's not like he hasn't tried to convince her to stop working, at least for a while. Or okay, fine, just do part-time. He has enough money for them to lead a comfortable life for now. And then he – or they – will figure out the rest in time.

But she loves her job, so what can he really do? She doesn't want to stop, or even go part-time. She enjoys waking up early in the morning, sip her morning coffee while swiftly skimming through the news on her phone. She doesn't mind getting dressed and then leave for work – leaving him alone for the rest of the day, right up until she comes back in the late afternoon. It isn't nearly enough of her for him. He wants more time. He needs more.

But today isn't Saturday. Not yet. It's just a regular Friday, nothing else. One more day of suffering at home, by himself.

Sebastian softly groans to himself, trying to come up with a new idea to keep himself entertained. There are days when he just can't seem to find anything that he would enjoy doing. The days when his mind keeps on straying back to driving race cars, and almost regretting his choice to retire. But only almost. He knows it was the right decision at that very moment. He always wanted to leave the sport when he's still at the top, and who is he kidding? These past seasons he's never had a car capable to win the championship. And anyway, he wanted to spend more time with his wife finally. The only time they have for themselves, just the two of them, are the weekends, and when he was still racing, sometimes those very weekends have been taken away from them just the same. As his mind – mind you, still half asleep as he's just woken up – slowly spins with thoughts, his eyes stray to her sleeping form right next to him.

A beam of early morning sun is sneaking in through the crack in the curtain, casting a glowing, golden orange line on the pillow, leading straight to her face. She's facing him, thankfully, so the light doesn't shine right onto her closed eyelids, waking her up. She's told him so many times to be careful when closing the curtains in the evenings. It's just one of those tiny things she can not stand – waking up to the sun shining in her eyes. 'That's why there's a curtain there in the first place', he can hear the gently scolding tone of her voice in his ears still.

But as the sunlight creeps up onto her laying body, he can't help but notice how it looks just like a halo, as it makes her (y/h/c) strands glow beautifully. She looks like a real life angel – and it's only further proof to what he's already been suspecting. That she's been sent from heaven only to make his life brighter, lovelier, calmer, and in general, more perfect than he ever expected his life to ever be.

He concludes to himself that he just really likes waking up before her as it gives him the chance to watch her sleep looking so peaceful and trouble-less. It must be one of his all time favourite sights. He'll never admit it to her though, he knows well enough that she doesn't like it, when he's watching her sleep. Even when it's in the car on a long journey and they stop at a red light and he turns to find her sleeping soundly by his side. Even when it's in a hotel room that he arrived back late to from a meeting on a Saturday night of a race weekend back when he was still racing. She seems to think she looks ridiculous when sleeping, which eventually led to him having to try his best to keep all his photos of her sleeping a secret.

In the calm silence of the room he can hear all the tiniest of sounds coming from their surroundings – the birds already chirping their morning songs on the other side of the windows, the manual clocks ticking away the precious seconds. Sebastian glances at the clock as his mind registers the sound coming from it, and internally groans with a roll of his eyes as his eyes take in the time. Just five more minutes left before it goes off. He dreads that very moment. The harsh ringing of the alarm breaking the quiet and the peace, ruining everything, ruining these sweet moments he can enjoy without her knowledge.

Out of nowhere a new thought pops in his head. Maybe he could convince her to stay. He has very good ways to do just that. He can be very convincing if he wants to be, and he knows it.

She stirs in her sleep, and his eyes snap back to her face, just in case her eyes flutter open. He loves watching her wake up, even if it means that the dreaded moment came. But no, she just moves until her head rests on his shoulder and her arms over his waist, then lets out a tiny whimper – something that sounds vaguely like his name – and then continues sleeping just as calmly as she's been doing up until then. He got a few more precious minutes.

His hand softly moves to rest on her upper back, unconsciously twirling a strand of her silk-like hair around his fingers. His own eyes close lightly again, enjoying the gentle press of their heads together. If he could, he would stay like this forever.

But then the alarm clock actually goes off, making Sebastian think one or two swear words in his mind as his arm shoots out in the direction of the device to make it silent again, while shifting his head a bit to be able to see his lover better. Her fingers twitch, he can feel it on the skin of his waist, and then her eyes eventually open – just for a second, before they close again, only to repeat the same notion a few times in the following seconds. Her body fights against waking up.

A smile makes its way onto his face, just as her eyelids open for the last time, revealing those sparkling (y/e/c) orbs to him, the ones he could easily get lost in every time she flashes them at him. Her lips lazily curve similarly to his as she takes in the sight of him.

"Morning," her slightly raspy voice fills the air of their bedroom in a whisper.

"Good morning, angel."

"You been awake for long?" she tightens her arm around him for a second, making him press a peck on top of her head in return.

"No, just woke up at the alarm." Small white lies like this never hurt anyone – especially if it means he doesn't have to stop watching her sleep and take pictures of her while doing so.

Then her fingers leave his skin, and he can feel her start moving further from his body. His arm doesn't loosen though, not even a bit, trying to keep her where she's been. "I gotta make my coffee, Seb," she lets out a giggle, feeling his hold remain on her.

"No," comes his simple reply.

"What do you mean, no?" her giggle grows into a somewhat louder chuckle.

"If you have your coffee, you will just leave sooner."

"Darling, I'll have to leave sooner or later, and you know it."

"I don't want you to."

Her body shifts in his arms, resulting in two things. His arms tighten around her torso even more, and her face turns entirely towards him, to be able to gaze into his eyes deeply and comfortably.

"We've been through this, Sebastian, please," she smiles. "I have to go to work."

He pouts, eyes boring into hers with an unspoken plead.

"You're behaving like a baby again."

Her words are familiar to his ears, since not more than two mornings prior they had a conversation almost exactly the same as this one. With a sigh he lets the muscles in his face move back to their natural state, just watching her with adoring eyes. "Okay, I stop. In exchange, can I at least kiss you?

Attentive icy blue orbs snap down towards her lips just as she bites into the bottom one, the cheeky, flirty grin painted on all his features. She nods, and that's all it takes for the man to lean in, capturing her in a breathtaking kiss. He pours all his thoughts and emotions into the action, letting her feel it in the taste of his lips, in the small gasps of air leaving him, in the way his eyelashes brush against her cheek every once in a while.

He's determined.

He wants to make her get lost in the kiss like she did so many times before. To get so lost that she completely forgets where she is, what their previous conversation was about, and most importantly, what time of what day it was. He kisses her to make her think it's already Saturday.

At her still mumbled words, he admits defeat. His kisses didn't work. Not this time. With a sigh audible enough to make her feel just a tiny bit guilty, he lets his arms slacken around her and his upper body to fall down, his back reconnecting with the mattress along with the sound of a soft thud.

With the help of his arms, he presses her warm body tightly into his, entirely engulfing her in his embrace. This is all he ever wants to do.

"Seb," she mumbles against his lips after a few minutes pass by. He pretends not to hear her, just keeps on stealing the oxygen from her lungs, hoping that just these few more moments are going to be enough to get what he wants. "Seb." Her voice comes louder and more certain the second time, as she tenderly forces her hands in-between their upper bodies to apply pressure to his chest, trying to push him off of her. "I really do need to get up."

"Oh, come on, love, don't look so heartbroken. I'll be back at five," she reaches out to caress his cheek before moving her legs from where they were tangled with his all throughout the night. "It's not the end of the world."

"Maybe to you, it isn't," he grumbles, knowing just how childish he sounds right now.

She shakes her head with another giggle, cute and angelic as always, making his heart skip a beat, and all of a sudden he can't help himself, just got to steal another kiss from her lips. He crashes into her with such force that this time it's her back that thuds against the mattress, and a surprised gasp of air leaves her lungs, right into his mouth. She kisses him back with just the same passion still, getting over her surprise in a short moment.

Another few minutes pass in relative silence – only the sounds of their lips moving along each other can be heard.

"Sebastian, you can't make me late," her weak attempt comes once more not to his surprise.

"Says who?" he mumbles back without a skip, not moving the tiniest bit further away from her, instead just pressing his knee right into the space between her legs, technically sticking her to the mattress. Only when he can feel their position being secure is when he lets their lips disconnect, just to be able to properly look into her eyes with a mischievous glint. "I bet I can make what you just said a lie."

"Do you?" she raises an eyebrow, knowing full well that it's enough for him to feel challenged. And when he smells challenge, there's nothing that can stop him or make him back down.

Sebastian nods, his nose brushing against hers in the process. "I'll give you a reason to stay."

And maybe now, just this once, she can call in sick to work.

.::the end::.

taglist: formulapierre

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

[i-am-baechu]

❥・Title: Passenger

❥・Paring: Namjoon x reader 

❥・ Summary: Meeting a cute boy at the bookstore wasn’t new to Y/N. What was new was when the said cute boy asks her out and he’s Kim fucking Namjoon. Why would an idol want to be with someone in a wheelchair or someone who uses a cane?

❥・ Rating: Explicit (18+) 

❥・ Genre: Idol! Namjoon, bookstore worker! Y/N, disabled reader, toxic ex-friends, musician Y/N, fluff, romance, angst, comedy, and smut

❥・Author's Note: I had this done yesterday but I didn't like the story so, I re-did the story

❥・ Playlist: Passenger - Candice Glover ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

“Mom, can I please have this?” 

L/N Y/N glanced at the mom with a curious look as she put books on her cart. It was a normal Thursday afternoon, some kids were just getting off of school and coming in to study or looking for books. Y/N smiled at the scene as the mom got down to her daughter's level, “What is it?”

“It's a koala. Well, it's bt21 Koya. I don’t have this one.” 

The mom glanced at the keychain and smiled, “Sure, you passed your math test. You deserve something.” 

“Really Mom!? Thank you!” 

Y/N watched them walk away, “How cute.” 

Yuri walked over to her and smiled down at her, “It is cute. Wait, are you talking about the scene or the keychain?” 

“Both. Both are good.” Y/N pushed the cart slowly as she turned her wheel on the chair, “Where does this cart go?” 

“It goes in the back. I heard that Maria is leaving on Friday.” 

Y/N scoffed at this as she stopped moving, “Good. After what she did to me, I’m glad she got fired.” 

Yuri nodded her head as she stood next to her, “I am too. I am scared that she’ll do something. Maria and Chae were close, Chae might come after you.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and shook her head, “This isn’t high school...why do they want to act like it is?” 

“Because that’s when they peaked. Just be careful, I’ll keep an eye on them too. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“What more can they do to me? I already have nerve damage.” 

Namjoon leaned back in his chair and stared at his screen with a blank expression. It’s been two hours and nothing. Every time he typed something out, he deleted it. He just wanted to write a simple poem to get his thoughts flowing and so far, nothing. He cracked his neck and ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. A knock on the door made him glance at the dark wood and rub his forehead, “Come in.” 

The door opened to reveal Yoongi leaning against the door frame with a raised eyebrow, “It’s bad that I’m checking on you.”

Namjoon sighed with a chuckle escaping, “Yeah, I know. I’ve been trying to get inspiration but nothing.”

“Why don’t you go to that bookstore?” 

“That narrows it down.” 

Yoongi rolled his eyes and took his phone out of his pocket. He typed something in his phone and turned it towards his leader, “It's called Sea of Hope. It’s by a park and a cafe, I think it will be beneficial for you.” 

“Sea of Hope...I’ll check it out. Will you go with me?” 

“Sure, I have nothing else to do. Plus, Hae wants me to get her a new sketchbook.” 

Namjoon nodded his head and took out his phone with a sigh. Yoongi raised his eyebrow with a small smirk, “Waiting for her?” 

“I don’t think she's going to text me back.”

“You don’t know that.”

I do...I do, “Do you want to get a drink with me?” 

“Sure, let me get Hoseok too. He needs a break too.”

“Alright sounds like a plan.”

Namjoon watched Yoongi leave his studio and he leaned back in his chair staring at his phone. He sighed to himself and felt annoyed. Why did she ask about him if she wasn’t going to communicate with him? He was interested but clearly she wasn’t. How many times is he going to get ghosted? 

Y/N brushed her hair as she glanced at herself in the glass leaning against her cane for stability. She was in her late twenties with her wheelchair and cane to get around. She was born with nerve damage and there wasn’t much she could do but to live with it. There were days where she wished she could’ve ended it all but there was always something stopping her. It was her mother's smile and her father's laugh that kept her grounded throughout her life. Then she met her best friend in high school, Jung Ae-Cha. Just their simple love kept her moving forward in life.

She pushed some hair back and smiled to herself, “Okay.” 

She opened the door and called for a car, saying goodbye to her orange and white cat, Sonia. She locked her door and put her keys in her pocket when the cold air touched her warm cheeks. She had a small shiver and shook her head, it’s so cold but I do love fall... The drive there was short but it was enough time to watch the leaves fall from the branches. It was a sight to see. Watching a leaf dance with the wind was like watching a married couple take their first dance, it was always special no matter how many times you’ve seen it. 

The cafe was like any other cafe, it felt warm and it wasn’t just the tea. The windows showcased the large park with the flowers touching the cold glass. She sat next to the window and watched the kids play with one another. She couldn’t help but feel some sadness watching them run across the grass without a care in the world. 

“You shouldn’t think too hard, Y/N.”

She turned her head and saw Ae-Cha giving her a soft smile holding two cups, “I guess. Sometimes thinking is good for the soul.”

“It can be good but it can also be bad depending on the thoughts. Knowing you, the thoughts are bad.” 

“Not necessary...what kind of tea did you get?”

Ae-Cha set the cups down on the small table as she pulled out her chair, “I got myself a London fog and I got you a green tea with cream.” 

“Thank you. How was the trip here?” 

Ae-Cha sighed and shook her head, “I know moving to Italy would be exciting but my god, the flight here. I feel so exhausted.”  

“I thought your boyfriend got you first class?” 

“He did but the people around weren’t so nice. How’s work?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and put her cup back on the table, “You remember that girl I was telling you about?”

“Maria? Or was it Chae?” 

“Technically both but the story is focusing on Maria.”

Ae-Cha nodded her head and took a sip of her tea, “I thought you liked her? What happened?”

“She got mad that I was getting more hours than her so she tried to trip me and then she got Chae to make my life harder. She said, “We only need her to make the company look good.”

“I’ll slap her for you.”

“You could get sued.”

“You should sue the company for letting the manager discriminate against you. It’s not right.”

Y/N sighed and glassed at the park, “I know...but sadly I need this job.”

Ae-Cha shook her head and gave her a stern look (something Y/N was avoiding), “No job is worth the abuse.” 

“Tell that to the economy. I was already looking at another job.”

“That’s good. You need to leave that toxic place.” 

“I’ll try.” 

Namjoon sat down on the grass and stared out into the neverending grass fields. He looked down and gently touched the daisies that were around him. Each flower was a different color but the petals felt the same. He placed his backpack behind him and laid down staring up at the clear sky with the cold air touching his skin. 

It was another day with no work getting done and another day without getting a text. Maybe this online dating wasn’t meant for him. Maybe he should go look for someone without someone helping him. It was time to take matters into his own hands. He was going to find a girl. 

He glanced at the cafe and smiled, “Neverland..that sounds cute.” Namjoon had a small shiver when she felt the breeze again but it didn’t bother him. He actually loved fall. 

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

It was early morning and Y/N was opening up the store. Chae was on the schedule with her but she knew she wasn’t going to show up. Why would she? Her parents owned the bookstore and she hated her guts, it makes sense. She didn’t understand why Maria or Chae hated her. They were friends in the beginning but then something shifted and she didn’t know what it was. She’s tried talking to Maria (the more civilized one at least that’s what she thought) but she got ignored. 

Maria was someone that Y/N knew back in college. They only talked when they needed to but the conversations were never malicious. They were the opposite. Maria was kind and gentle to her whenever she saw her. Obviously, something changed. When she met her in the bookstore things were going well. She would go out to dinner with her or they would hang out at the cafe. Once she started to hang out with Chae, she changed. 

Maria was fired because Y/N laid everything on the table to Chae’s parents. She only mentioned Maria because she was scared to even mention Chae. Maria would make everything harder for her. She would make sure all the books she needed were higher than usual or she would make sure there was stuff on the floor whenever she had her wheelchair. Y/N tried letting it go because it was just childish and she didn’t need to be angry. It wasn’t until she had an accident. Maria tripped her and she fell. She asked Maria for help but she got laughed at. Chae was there and recorded everything. Their laughs clouded her brain that day and a decision was made. Now she was the target of Chae but she wasn’t going down without a fight. 

Y/N watched as people made their way into the store. Talking amongst each other with small voices that would make a mouse jealous. She was always jealous seeing groups of friends, she never really had a group. Sure she had friends throughout high school and college but they never stayed. Ae-Cha was the only that stayed but even with her, it gets lonely at times. This is one of those times. 

The way the girls laughed with each other and hit their shoulders as they laughed, it made her smile in green. She sighed to herself and picked up the go-backs, it was a small stack of books so it was manageable. She leaned against her cane putting some books back on the shelves. She turned her and her eyes landed on a group of guys. It was four of them but they had masks with sunglasses. She squinted her eyes at them because this wouldn’t be the first time someone stole from the store. She made a mental note about them but headed back to her desk to finish her morning paperwork. 

Namjoon felt her eyes and glanced at her, her curious eyes were bright as her lips were shining under the light. She was cute but that's all he thought. In his mind, she knew he was famous because of the stare. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone stared at him in public when he had a mask on, so much for the mask to cover his face. At least she didn’t come up to him to ask questions or anything like that. 

Jin raised his eyebrow and glanced at him, “Are you okay?”

Namjoon nodded his head and glanced over his shoulder to see her leaving, “That girl was staring...I think she knew we were famous.” 

Yoongi rolled his eyes and shook his head, “I think you're paranoid. She probably was just checking in on us or something like that. We are wearing masks, sunglasses and black hoodies. She probably thinks we're going to steal.”

“I didn’t think of that...” 

Hoseok let out a small laugh, “See, don’t assume someone knows you're famous. She’s just doing her job, that’s all.”

Namjoon sighed and nodded his head, “I know, I know. You just never know with people and I want to make sure we're safe in public.” 

Jin nodded his head and put the book back on the shelf, “I get it Joon. I saw you looking at her though, you think she's cute?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes at him and put the book in his basket, “Do you have your books?” 

“You ignored the question, you think she's cute.” 

“I want to look at more books, I’ll be in the back.”

The three older men let out a small chuckle watching him leave, annoyance with each step he took. Y/N signed off her last paper and looked up to see the guy with the mask and glasses. She tilted her head at him as he headed towards the back. He had an interesting aura but it was probably because he was going to steal or something. Some people came up with their purchases and she looked away from him. 

Namjoon grabbed the book that he wanted and smiled underneath the black material. He ignored his members and went to the front. He waited in line but he heard her soft voice, “This book is really good. The poems are kinda dark but it's still good.” 

“Oh really. I’ve read the other works of his but they weren’t dark. So this one is dark?” 

Y/N nodded her head and gave her a smile, “It is but it's really good. I’ve read it.” 

The younger girl smiled at this and took out her cash, “Thank you for helping, I appreciate it.” 

“Of course and if you don’t like it, you can always return it.” 

“Thank you again.” 

Namjoon smiled to himself as he watched the girl smile. Her smile was gentle and her voice sounded like the gentle wind in spring. She was cute, “I can help who's next.” 

Namjoon snapped out of his thoughts and bowed his head at the girl. He placed the basket on the counter, “Hello, how's your day?” 

Y/N smiled at him as she put the books on the counter (happy that he didn’t steal anything), “It’s been going good. Do you like history?” 

Namjoon smiled (even though she couldn't see it) and nodded his head, “Yeah, it’s a story about a feminist leader and I’ve been interested in it for a while.”

He’s interested in a feminist leader...it could be a way to pick up girls. He could be one of those guys.... “My co-worker read this book and liked it. You should get the other volumes.”

“I thought about it but it gives me another reason to come back.”

She raised her eyebrow but nodded her head, “That will be ₩ 88,077. Will that be cash or card?”

“Oh, card.”

“Alright, let me set up the card reader and when it’s ready just hover your card over the corner to have it read.” 

Namjoon nodded his head as he took out his card to do what she said. She doubled his bag and clicked the tender on the computer. She pushed some hair behind her ear as he glanced at her. She smiled and took the receipt and put it in the bag, “You have a good day.” 

“Y-You too, bye.” 

“Bye-bye.” 

Y/N watched him leave and tilted her head. “How strange.” 

After her shift, Y/N went to the music store next door. She waved her hand at the owner, Kim Jin-Young, and walked up to him, “How’s your day so far, Mr. Kim.” 

Jin-Young let out a small laugh and shook his head, “I told you to call me Jin-Young, Y/N.”

“I know but it's fun calling you Mr. Kim, makes you feel older.” 

Jin-Young rolled his eyes and glanced at the back door, “Do you want your guitar?”

“Yeah, I was checking in on it.”

Jin-Young smiled at this and went to the back room. He came out with a brand new acoustic guitar with flowers on the side, “I tuned it for you but you might want to do it yourself. Are you performing this weekend?” 

Y/N smiled and nodded her head. She set the cane against the counter to take the guitar with a smile, “Yeah, Ae-Cha signed me up a month ago. I had no idea but she thought it would be good for me.”

“I think it would be. You have really good lyrics and a beautiful voice.” 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Shut up, I’m nothing like those K-pop idols.” 

“Some of them lip sync. Be proud of your talent.” 

“I suppose. Thank you for this, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Y/N. I’ll be cheering you on Saturday.” 

“I’ll see you later, Mr. Kim.”

Jin-Young rolled his eyes and watched the girl leave with the guitar on her back, “Yah! It’s Jin-Young to you!” 

Namjoon leaned back in his chair and stared at his ceiling with a blank expression. His blank expression matched his computer screen and he sighed to himself. He glanced at his couch and saw the bag from the bookstore and smiled to himself. He got up from his desk and took out the book he got. He smiled to himself when he thought of the cashier but he shook his head. Maybe reading the book could give him a break from life. 

Namjoon finished the book that night and he came back to the bookstore the next day. Y/N recognized him because of his voice and the pair of sunglasses he had on. She didn’t check him out at the register but she did talk to him when he was walking around the store. She realized that he wasn’t using a feminist leader to flirt but he was actually interested in it. She smiled at this as he went on tangents about the leader. He even recommended books to her. He was interested and he read pretty fast because he’s back again today. 

“You read pretty fast.”

Namjoon jumped at the voice and looked at her. She was wearing a simple white short-sleeved shirt with her work vest and her hair was in a low ponytail. The vest had different buttons of things that she was interested in and he held in a laugh when he noticed a Koya on the dark green vest.  He nodded and showed her a random book on the shelf, “I was looking at a different genre this time.” 

She tilted her head at the book and let out a small laugh, “You want to read a teen fantasy about a vampire falling in love with a wizard?” 

Namjoon glanced at the cover and back at her, “I-I...”

“If you're into that then go right ahead.” 

Namjoon put the book back and shook his head, “No-No, I just grabbed a random book. I-I-”

“I can put that in the front for you.”

Namjoon felt his face get hot and he wanted to slap his forehead, “I want some poetry books.”

“So, why did you grab that book?”

“I just grabbed a random book to talk to you.”

“To talk to me?”

“I like talking to you...is that weird? It is weird, I’m sorry.”

Y/N felt flattered and she ignored her heart fluttering,  “I like talking to you too. I can show you the-”

“I’ll show him the poetry section. Y/N, you should be in the front. Not walking around.”

Y/N held in a sigh and turned around to see Chae glaring at her. She nodded her head and looked back at Namjoon with a small smile, “I’ll see you in the front.” 

Namjoon watched Y/N leave and he frowned at the scene. Whoever this girl was, it was clear she didn’t like the girl. The one thing he was happy about was that he knew her name, Y/N. It matched her perfectly. Namjoon turned towards the girl and smiled at her under the mask, “I can find it, thank you.”

“Are you sure? I would love to help.”

Namjoon fought back the urge to roll his eyes but shook his head, “No, it’s okay. Thank you.”

Namjoon left her standing there before she could say anything to him. He quickly went into the poetry section and sighed to himself, “Y/N...pretty name.” 

Y/N signed off some return receipts and when she turned around Chae was standing there with her arms crossed. The glare she was giving her made her skin feel like it was on fire, “Hi, Chae”

“Why weren’t you in the front? That’s your task for today.”

Y/N glanced at the paper in her hands and then back at her with a tensed smile, “No one was on the floor with me so, I had to walk around the store to make sure everyone was helped.” 

“Walk? You barely do that. You're slow, that's why you stay in the front.” 

“I have my cane, I can walk around-”

“I don’t care what you can do, you stay in the front. You’ll just get in my way and it's annoying.”

She knew she shouldn’t feel hurt by her words but it was hard, “Okay.”

“Okay? Is that all you can say? You should-”

“I’m ready.”

Y/N glanced over Chae’s shoulder and saw the mystery standing there with his books. She was grateful for him because she felt saved at this moment. Chae gave him a fake smile and nodded her head, “Y/N will be happy to help you.” 

And with that, Chae left. Y/N let out the sigh that she was holding in and smiled at him, “Thank you for that...you know my name, what’s yours?” 

Namjoon let out a small laugh and put the books on the counter, “Now why would you want to know my name?” 

“Because...I like talking to you.” 

Namjoon smiled at this and nodded his head. He took off his sunglasses and looked around before pulling down his mask, “My name is Namjoon.”

Her eyes widened at this when she saw who it was, “Kim Namjoon? Like from Bts?”

“Yeah...don’t tell anyone, please.” 

“I wouldn’t dare to do so. It would mean other people talk to you and I wouldn’t want competition.”

Namjoon let out a laugh and put everything back on, “It wouldn’t be a competition. I would only talk to you anyways.” 

“That’s good to know, Mr. Idol.” 

“Mr. Idol? That feels weird, just call me Namjoon or if people are around Nam.”

She let out a small laugh as she scanned the last book, “Nam? That’s not very creative of you.” 

“Hey, I’m trying here.” 

“I see that. That will be ₩ 94,248, Mr. Nam.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and took his card out, “I regret saying that now.”

“I don’t...I was wondering...We have this festival tomorrow and it would be cool if you came. You don’t have either.” 

“A festival?” 

Y/N nodded and put the receipt in his bag, “Yeah, it's a small music one. You said you’ve been having trouble at work. Now that  I know it's music...I thought it would be beneficial for you.” 

Namjoon smiled and nodded his head, “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Y/N’s face felt warm and she shook her head, “It’s not a date. A hang-out if you will.” 

“Then I’ll come to that hang-out, Y/N.”

“Good, Mr. Nam...I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

She watched him leave the store and she couldn’t help but smile to herself. He was interesting and she couldn’t wait to know more about him. 

Namjoon sat on the grass with Yoongi sitting next to him as he stared at the empty stage. Y/N already met Yoongi and Yoongi thought it was funny that Namjoon was interested in her. She was the opposite of him, she was more blunt with her comments while Namjoon wasn’t but it was clear they were both interested in each other. Y/N told them that she had to do something and walked away. The last thing that he saw was the rose gold cane shining.

“You like her?”

Namjoon glanced at Yoongi and took a sip of his water, “She’s interesting...” 

“Just say you like her. You're not waiting for the other girl, right?” 

“I deleted her number. She wasn’t worth the wait.”

“What was her name again? Hae told me that she wasn’t good news so I blocked it out.” 

Namjoon sighed and looked at Yoongi, “Hae, knew she wasn’t good? Why didn’t she tell me?” 

“She wanted you to learn your lesson, I guess. What was her name so I can keep an eye out.”

“Maria.” 

“The next performer is my good friend, L/N Y/N.”

Namjoon snapped his head to the stage and watched Y/N go to the microphone with a guitar and without her cane. She sent a smile to the crowd and gave a small wave to Namjoon. Namjoon returned it as Yoongi watched on the sidelines with a smirk on his face. Yoongi leaned towards Namjoon and whispered in his ear, “Did you know she was performing?”

“No...” 

She played a few cords and smiled to herself as the melody echoed throughout the park, Raindrops make me think of you, Fragments of you in them. Each drop is our memories. Good or bad, there are no outliers. Especially with you. I think that’s why I like rainy days. You're always with me, even in an empty room.”

The sad melody played and for Namjoon everything was at a standstill as he stared at the girl in front of him. She was playing the guitar and her soft voice pierced his ears. It was beautiful but it was so sad. The words to the song were poetic and they held the pain of the past. Anyone can relate to her words and he thinks that’s why he liked it so much. 

When she finished everyone applauded her and bowed. She headed off the stage making Namjoon run towards it, ignoring the stare from his member. He entered backstage and saw Y/N looking down at the ground with tears in her eyes as two girls stood in front of her, “Why would anyone like your song?”

“They probably felt pity for you because I mean look at you. Disabled and you barely can walk.”

Namjoon glared at this and let out a small cough behind the mask as his glasses hid his glare. The two girls turned around and looked him up and down with confused looks, “What do you want?” 

“I’m here for Y/N. I don’t appreciate you saying all those things to her.” 

“It’s true and it's time she learned. She’s just a headache to everyone.” 

Namjoon took off his glasses and sent a hard glare that made the girl take a step back, “You're a  headache by just talking. Now move.” 

She scoffed at this and glanced at Y/N, “He only did that because he felt bad for you. Remember that.”

The two girls left while Y/N stared at the dirty wood with a blank expression. Namjoon shook his head at their behavior and tilted her chin with his thumb, “Don’t listen to them. Idiots just echo each other to feel heard.” 

Y/N let out a sad chuckle and shook her head, “Sometimes Idiots say the truth....”

“Y/N, they're wrong. You're beautiful inside and out, no matter what people say. Everyone is different, and that makes everyone unique in their own way.” 

“Beautiful?”

She tilted her head at him and let out a small cough as he looked away, “Just don’t listen to them.”

“Should I listen to you then?”

“If that makes you happy, then yes.”

They stared into each other's eyes and she let out a small laugh, “Thank you...we should get back to Yoongi.” 

“Y-Yeah, where’s your cane?”

“In my dressing room. Can you help me?”

“Always...” 

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Fall came and passed. It was spring when the flowers bloomed from slumber from the cold winter. Y/N opened her window to let the semi-warm air into her room. She glanced outside to see the bush that was near her house was already blooming with small pink flowers. She smiled to herself and pushed some hair back as she relished in the morning sun. 

She had known Namjoon for a while now and everything was good. In her dark thoughts, it was too good. He would always make time for her and come visit her and her cat. He would bring her favorite food and drinks while they sat in her living room talking about poetry. It was as if he understood everything she was saying and vice versa. It was lovely but again her mind loved playing tricks on her. 

Namjoon was building up the courage to ask her out but every time he wanted to, it didn’t feel right. The rest of the members were threatening him at this point to ask her out but he was nervous. He never really liked anyone before her, they were only flings. Y/N was different and he didn’t want to ruin anything between them. It would devastate him if he lost her. If he had to keep his feelings hidden longer then he would do so. 

Y/N got ready for another day at work and she was already dreading going in. She didn’t want to see Chae but at least she worked with Yuri today. She laid back on her back staring at her ceiling with a frown. It wasn’t until she felt softness at her fingertips and she smiled. She glanced and saw Sonias with her bright green eyes. Y/N softly scratched Sonia’s head, “Sonia, I wish I could stay home all day with you. Nothing to worry about, just cuddles.” 

Sonia let out a loud meow and cuddled into her side making Y/N melt, “I love you too but I have to go. You be a good girl. Namjoon is coming by later, he’ll have your treats. You know how he is. Always spoiling you.”

Another meow left her lips and she smiled to herself. She leaned down and kissed the top of Sonia’s head. She gently got off the bed and frowned when she felt pain in her leg. It was going to be a long day and she wasn’t ready for it. She walked down the stairs carefully as Sonia went beside her, slowing down when Y/N did. When she finally reached the last step she grabbed her wheelchair and slowly sat in it. A sigh left her lips as she tried to be positive for the day. It’s so hard to feel anything when you feel nothing. 

A knock at the door caused her to raise her eyebrow, “Who is it?”

“It’s Namjoon! Can I come in?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and a small laugh, “You know the code.”

Namjoon opened the door and saw that she was in the wheelchair and frowned, “Is your leg acting up?”

“When is it not acting up? It’s just a wheelchair kind of day. Why are you here?” 

“I wanted to drop you off.” 

Y/N smiled at this and looked down at her feet, “You want to drive your disabled friend to work?”  

“I want to drive Y/N to work. You're much more than being disabled.” 

“Wait, you can’t drive though.”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck and let out a nervous chuckle, “That’s why I asked Hyung to help me.”

“Which one-”

“Y/N~!” 

She smiled and watched the door open wider to see Hoseok giving her a wide smile, “Hello, oppa. Thank you for driving me.”

“It’s no problem Y/N. Namjoon woke me up early to-”

Namjoon hit Hoseok's shoulder and let out a nervous laugh, “Let’s get you to work.” 

“Thank you, Nam.” 

Namjoon rolled his eyes and let out a huff of air, “I told you not to call me that when it's just us.” 

“When do I listen to you? It’s fun making you mad.” 

The ride there was filled with soft music bouncing off the leather fabric. Y/N stared outside looking at the flowers with a softness in her heart. She loved spring, it was the time when things that were hidden away from the cold appeared. It was a metaphor for life and she wanted to stick to that. 

Namjoon saw that she was looking out the glass and smiled at her gentle look. He let out a small cough that made her look at him and raised an eyebrow, “Tonight I was wondering if we can write together again.” 

Y/N smiled at this and nodded her head, “That sounds fun. Are you going to spoil Sonia?” 

“She deserves it. She’s the only cat that behaves well and loves cuddles.”

“Does this exclude Yoongi?” 

Namjoon let out a small laugh and shook his head, “You know what I mean. Who do you work with today?”

“With Chae and Yuri.” 

Namjoon scoffed at this, “I don’t like Chae. She needs to be put in her place.” 

“I don’t have to deal with her any longer. Next week is my last week, so no worries.” 

Namjoon smiled at this and nodded his head, “Where are you going to work?”

“With Jin-Young. It felt right to move to the music store and it's near the cafe.”

“I’m glad you're leaving that bookstore. It was toxic.” 

She nodded her head as she looked out the window, “Ae-Chae, asked her boyfriend to sue Chae and wants me to go forward with it.”

Hoseok nodded his head at this as he gently stopped the car, “You should go forward with it. She discriminated against you.” 

“I just don’t like conflict...it’s so much money too. Ae-Chae said she would pay for it but I feel bad for that. I don’t think I’ll go forward with it because well I’m scared...”

“That’s understandable, Y/N. If you want to go forward, I’ll be happy to help you.”

She turned towards Namjoon with her eyes widened, “You would help me?” 

“I told you. I’ll always help you.” 

That night, Jin picked her up with Namjoon and the tension in the car was different. Namjoon was nervous while Jin was smiling to himself, it was clear that he had done something to him. They sat in her bedroom typing away on their laptops. Namjoon kept glancing at her over his screen while Y/N was typing and petting Sonia in her lap. 

“Nam, what did you write?” 

“I-I...I want you to go first.” 

“Okay...Falling snow with secrets of winter linger. Springtime is when the truth is revealed 

Warmth is replaced in the summer with your touch, But when fall comes loneliness returns. Four seasons isn’t enough to heal. A lifetime will do.” 

Namjoon nodded his head and smiled, “That was pretty. I liked the mention of the different seasons.” 

“I thought about it because it's the first day of spring.” 

“Ah, you were excited about the flowers blooming.” 

“I was, now what did you write?” 

Namjoon nodded his head and let a nervous sigh out, “I wrote this from the heart...I hope you like it.”

“If it’s from the heart then how could I hate it?” 

“The moment we met, I knew. Somehow the truth always comes out with you. The reason I survive is one of the reasons for my rebirth. My meaning of life. Hold me, with tears escaping into the abyss. Something so pure and true. Can even make the strongest whimper. My summer sky in the harsh winter, the first raindrop in a drought, a crumble in a famine. My strength, my clarity, and my heaven...Y/N will you be my girlfriend?”

Her eyes widened at this and stared at him with a shocked look, “Y-You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“I do...I really do.” 

Y/N glanced down at Sonia as she continued to pet her, “You want me even though I have so many things wrong with me?” 

“Y/N, I don’t give a shit if you have problems. I love you for you. Every little thing about you I’m in love with. Regardless of how you see yourself. I love you.” 

“You-You love me?” 

“I do.” 

She gently touched Sonia’s butt to have her jump off her lap. She leaned against the table and gently placed her lips on his. His eyes widened but he closed his eyes and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He gently pushed the table away and grabbed her hips, picking her up effortlessly. His hand moved to the back of her neck and he pulled her closer. When they leaned away he pushed some hair away from her face and truly looked at her face. She tried to look away from his intense eyes but he would let her budge. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, and then the edge of her lips, “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too...Nam.” 

He let out a deep chuckle and kissed her neck as her fingers went through his hair, “Always the one that likes to annoy.”

“I think it gives you excitement.” 

“It does.”

He gently pushed her down on the floor as he towered over her. Her hair perfectly framed her face as the nervousness in her eyes became clear to him. He leaned down and kissed her lips again and this time it was more passionate than before. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him in closer. He happily accepted it. Nervous as she was, she couldn’t help the feeling in her stomach that erupted because of his touch. His thighs slowly separated hers as he got into a better position. 

He was perfect and she was the greatest treasure that he could ever acquire. He lifted up her skirt and gave her a small smile, “Is this okay?” 

“This is everything I want...” 

It happened so fast but so slow at the same time. He buried his face into her neck, panting as he placed kisses on her sweaty skin. The thrusting that started off slow was no faster with each passing second. He leaned away and looked down at her pleasured-out face. Her lips shined under the light with her eyes closed tightly. Her moans became louder as she felt her body moving forward with each thrust. Her arms reached up to him and he knew what she wanted. He leaned down and gave her another deep kiss as she arched her back when she felt her orgasm approaching. 

Keeping his mind focused, he continued to focus on her. Lifting up her shirt and kissing the tops of her breasts. He was losing himself and he couldn’t stop, “I’m going to come, Y/N.”

“T-That’s okay.”

“Where do you want me to come?” 

“You can just do it on my thigh or stomach.”

He nodded his head and pulled himself out with a low groan coming out of his mouth. He started rubbing himself and a white substance touched her the inside of her thigh. She felt it drip down and out of curiosity, she brought her fingertips to it and gently touched it. She brought it to her mouth and tasted it. Namjoon's blissed-out expression registers what just happened and lets out a moan at the sight. 

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“That’s good to know.” 

He leaned to kiss her left shoulder and back at her with a smile, “I love you regardless of what’s happening. You're my everything. The moment I saw you with your cane in the bookstore I fell in love with you. I love you for you. Nothing less.”

A small tear escaped as she gently touched his face, “Even if I can’t walk some days.”

“I’ll carry you.”

“Even on days that I can feel anything.”

“I’ll become your nurse.”

She smiled at him and kissed the tip of his nose, “Then I’m yours.”

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Two Years Later 

“Y/N! Are you ready?”

She turned around and smiled at Namjoon, “You think Army would accept me? I mean it’s me...” 

Namjoon let out a small laugh and sat next to her. He kissed the side of her head and pushed some hair from her forehead, “Why wouldn’t they?” 

“I’m not normal...”

“Y/N, you're the greatest thing that has happened to me. I love you. Remember what I said to you.” 

She let out a laugh and kissed his cheek, “Call me Nam.”

He rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead, “My strength, my clarity, and my heaven. I would do anything for you.” 

“I would do anything for you too...Let’s tell the world about us. I’ll stand by you no matter what. I’ll be your passenger through life.” 

He smiled at this and intertwined their fingers together as a diamond sparkled in the light, “Forever.” 

[wordsbynei]

A boy named Wednesday

a rough draft, a fun little story from once upon a time....

I met Wednesday, funny enough, on a Friday afternoon. I did not notice immediately how his perfect smile curved and sat so perfectly atop his chiseled jaw. It took time for me to really see him. Wednesday wandered into my sacred place one Friday afternoon, among a group of fellow travelers all looking for a temporary resting place. Their stay was not fixed nor was it indefinite but they came in and brought a rhythm and life to the place that I couldn’t let go once I felt it. 

Wednesday seemed to blend into this group, until he didn’t. That curved smile flashed at me once and slowly, like a flickering light bulb, I saw him. His light was mellow and warm, not too harsh on the eyes. Yet at the same time, he lit a fire in me which I felt in my belly and my toes. I watched him from a distance as he carried wood and coal for fire, embodying the flames he incited in me in a perfect metaphor. Slowly built, gradually growing sparks which quickly turned to a ranging, burning, hot fire contained in the confines of the makeshift fire pit of my sacred place.

But other than his physical perfection, I saw in Wednesday an energy fueled by the moonlight. Sourced from the sun but not an overbearing heat with burning sensations, more light and cool but comforting nonetheless. Before speaking with him directly I sensed that he had a kindness and love in him that I only hoped I’d be deserving of. But unlike my other carnal prospects, I did not feel the need to be chosen by Wednesday, proving myself to him did not feel necessary because I knew that our lights called to one another, we only needed to oblige and meet where it got dark.

Wednesday and I danced before we spoke. He said all he needed to in the sway of his hips and in his firm embrace of my waist. Speechless and motionless I fought the urges he inspired. His simple existence felt unbelievable to me when he took my hand, and I froze in disbelief. With each step he whispered assurances that he was real and slowly I settled into the present. Hesitantly, I stepped with him, nervous feet and reluctant hips moved to the sounds of a cool, almost winter night. Wednesday stepped with me and I was enthralled by his magic, so much so, I forgot momentarily about the many pairs of eyes that watched us sway and dip across the dry desert sand. As we disappeared and reappeared from clouds of dust Wednesday held me tight and close, but never did I feel restricted by his grip. Much like his light, it was cool, calm and collected.

Such was the nature of my subsequent interactions with Wednesday. We continued to dance, stirring up clouds of dust, ignorant to the world around us, pouring light into each other in isolation. We embraced each other wholly and fully growing fruit and flowers from the roots we planted in the desert. We watered each other as best we could until our respective trees reached their peaks. Unable to grow within the only container we had, I said goodbye to Wednesday. And while it felt unbearably painful in the moment, time has worked her magic and nurtured the wound his goodbye left. Time iced the bruises and dissolved the scars and now the pain feels so distant. 

Today, Wednesday feels like a distant and fond memory. During present Wednesdays I sometimes think of him. 

I remember the moments we shared and embrace in the beauty of the moments lost to time. 

I wonder if he continues to light up dark places and warm hearts with his mellow flame.

I hope he is still dancing across the desert, stirring up a cloud of dust with his steps

Sometimes, standing in the moonlight I feel his mellow warmth and I remember the time I knew a boy named Wednesday.

August 10th, 2023

[laylaart]

Week 1 -

Tuesday 18th April

In todays session we each pitched our individual ideas. It was a really interesting beginning to the session, especially seeing what everyone had come up with, despite all being given the same brief. There were various ideas, from social spaces to sculptures and water features. My pitch was an interactive light installation. I took into consideration the history of Digbeth, its surroundings and the stakeholders to come to my final pitch idea. I wanted my light installation to mimic water and the way water moves. This was inspired mainly by the use of canals and water transport into and throughout Birmingham/Digbeth. Digbeth was the first area of Birmingham that was settled in and therefore the first to see glimpses of the industrialisation of Birmingham, which began simply due to the accessibility by boat. This part of Digbeth's history seemed important and cropped up a fair amount in my research and so I felt it important to incorporate it in my designing. I also wanted to acknowledge the art and surroundings that exist already, I thought i'd do this by having the blue light act like a U.V light also, so that any of the UV paint used in the arch would illuminate. This therefore highlighting the existing work rather than taking from it. I also considered the different points of contacts and who would be able to see the installation. The arch is actually viewable to me in my current flat, I was watching the train go over the arches one day which sparked the idea of the light installation, potentially illuminating as the trains go overhead. It means those on board can enjoy the sea of blue beneath them, the visitors can enjoy the immersive experience, and anyone watching from afar may be intrigued as to where the luminous blue light is coming from.

After pitching each of the Ideas Lara and Sarah went away to decide which of the pitches would be selected and developed, to then pitch to our stakeholders (Birmingham City Council and OVAL estate). They came back with a list of the groups with group leaders, these being those who's ideas were chosen. My idea was selected, and so I became the group leader for the chosen group. My group formed due to a similarity in each of the pitches that we presented. Each of our pitches highlighted the idea of working with water due to the use of canals in Birmingham. We then parted off into groups and began collaborating to brainstorm a final pitch.

While collaborating I felt as though there was a potential misunderstanding of how we were to collaborate. From what I understood it was my idea that was the foundation of the pitch and then developing this idea further to best adhere to the brief/stakeholder wants and needs. Others in the group, however, seemed to think it was a complete new idea, meting all aspects of each design pitch together. I felt as though this afternoon my job was to listen and try and ensure ideas are all welcomed, but maintained to a realistic level.

Friday 21st April

On this Friday we continued sharing and developing ideas and clarifying our final outcome. In this session I tried to share concerns with the potential that our group was getting slightly carried away. It seemed that every idea that was shared, was then added to the design idea. It seemed that because it is a speculative project, a few members of the team got slightly carried away with that. I preferred the idea of constructing a more simple idea and developing from there, rather than trying to combine so much, so quickly. It was also difficult that when stating my queries with losing a certain grasp on realistic designing, I was faced with a fare amount of stubbornness from certain individuals. I knew this may be a trouble when assigned the group leader, however, it was more difficult than I had experienced previously. I then had to discover ways in which I could work around this to try and achieve a more realistic outcome. The outcome we came to was an immersive interactive installation. There was said to be an inclusion of bioluminescent feature as there is natural bioluminescence in nature, however, I didn't feel as though this fit well with the installation theme, that was ultimately based on the usage of canals and water ways in Birmingham. Some members of the group also wished to work with a live water feature, this seemed possible which meant we further considered the idea. The final feature that we developed was the water screen feature that Ash pitched originally. This, to me, seemed slightly unrealistic for this specific site, as these tend to be featured in much larger scales with very large budgets. However, they were certain the logistics were okay and so we continued to develop the installation with the water feature.

In this session we also did small progress pitches in front of the class. Here we shared what we had so far done and our collaborated ideas. These are very useful as its nice to get feedback from an outside opinion. It also helps verbalise the ideas and learn from the reaction of our fellow classmates and tutors. The advise and criticisms are always welcome, especially when practicing and voicing our pitches as, this is all practice for the final pitch.

[koukwst]

Intro & GGJ2023

Hello world, this is my new attempt to start blogging about my game dev journey as well as stuff related to my work. Previous attempts failed hard, however I believe this time I will manage to write a new article from time to time. Hence, the first topic will refer to my experience of participating in the weekly Global Game Jam 2023 on my own. Let’s break it down day by day.

On Saturday afternoon I was watching the live stream event waiting for the theme announcement. I already knew I wanted to do a simple, third person, action game in order to practice my stylized modeling skills, design a character and create something fun to play. This year the theme was “roots” of which I was not that fond, thus I started web searching for some inspiration while brainstorming ideas. Using some AI tools like ChatGTP crossed my mind, although eventually I did not proceed with them. While searching, I came across some artworks of mandragora and it became my starting point.

After a couple of hours, I had decided that I would create a twin stick action game with farmer Joe (protagonist), who lives in his farm (setting) and tries to harvest vegetables from the ground (goal) with his shovel (weapon). Evil mandragoras (enemy) have possessed his farm, meaning that there is a chance of harvesting an angry enemy who summons other mandragoras instead of vegetables. Joe has to protect his farm and fight the baddies while gathering his precious veggies.

On Sunday I started with the pre-production by creating a miro board with my ideas, a production timeline, lists of props that need to be created as well as mechanics to be implemented, references for the characters and the environment, and finally references for the art style. 

I set the timeline pretty loose which turned out to be a good idea eventually.

Since I was alone, I decided to stick to miro and not use any other task management tool. I updated the board during the development keeping the design document alive.

On Sunday afternoon I started the environmental design. The style which I had decided was unlit, inspired by an “untitled game” with vertex coloring for some fake ambient occlusion/shade painting. By the evening I had finished with most of the environmental props when I drained away from the PC screen because I was feeling inexplicably tired.

The next day found me sick (explaining the previous day’s tiredness). I decided to stay in bed since I could not do anything and had no other option.

On Tuesday and Wednesday I finished with the environmental props, the basic sculpt and the texturing of the enemy (although I was not very happy with it and decided to change it if I found time) and the block-out of the main character. At that time, I realized that I was a bit off my initial plan but since it was not very strict, I could manage to catch up.

On Thursday I was finally feeling well and I managed to finish farmer Joe (sculpting, optimization & texturing) which was pretty badass for such a short period of time. I felt great with the result!

Late in the evening I rigged the model (using mixamo of course, ain’t nobody got time for manual rigging during a jam), downloaded some animations and made some bone weight paint corrections for the head and the shoulders.

All visual assets were ready, I was ready to jump into Unity and start the development, whereas being only one day behind the initial plan.

On Friday or The Controller Day I started “giving life” to my character Joe. I wanted to create a responsive controller with smooth movement, thus I used two techniques with which I was not very familiar. Root motion movement (it also fits the theme right :D) and blend trees. After 4-5 hours of testing and trying things, I managed to make Joe move with various speeds (slow stealthy move and running) and set looking direction. The character did not slide due to the use of root motion and the controller felt pretty natural. With the use of Unity’s Input System, it was very easy to implement keyboard and mouse bindings as well.

The only thing left to do was to add another animation override layer for the (un)equip of the shovel, the attack, the digging and dying animation.

On Saturday or The Environmental Design Day I brought all the assets which I created into Unity. I wanted to spawn the environment procedurally, so I created two “clever” spawning managers; one for the arena and the fences and one for all the other assets. The managers checked the objects so as not to collide with each other and spawned them according to my design parameters. The most challenging part was the placement of fruits on the surface of the tree leaves. Since the script was a bit heavy, I decided to keep it in editor time and spawn the arena on my computer, instead of letting it be spawned every time the game begins.

At this point I need to highlight that every game jam game must be completed at the last minute.

For this reason Sunday can be called Actually Making the Game Day. Up to that moment I had achieved the movement of my character in the environment , nonetheless there was no game. The first thing I implemented on Sunday morning was adding vegetable spawning positions (using the environment spawning manager) that bring either veggies (points) or enemies. Only some hours had left and I still had no enemy. Do you remember when I said that I was not happy with the enemy model and that I would fix it in the future? That never happened so I implemented the model that I had, something between a mandragora and a bad-shaped potato. I created a basic enemy movement manager by using root motion for one more time and I implemented Unity’s navigation AI for its movement on the terrain. With only a couple of hours left, I thought that I would not be able to make the enemy enable other enemies. In order to make the game gradually more difficult, I decided to spawn an enemy over the veggie/enemy spawning position, after the first time that position got harvested. Finally, I added some sounds, an instructions panel, polished whatever I could during the last minutes, baptized the game Untitled Farm Game and presented it at the Discord event of my game jam’s location.

To conclude, it was a great experience and overall I am happy with the result. I believe that I archived my initial goals more or less, learned new stuff and practiced my skills. Setting a reasonable plan was a smart choice since I lost a whole day being sick and two days of not being at my full potential.

You can check the trailer of the game below, check the art on Artstation or play the game on itch.io.

I hope you enjoyed this article and not just considered tl;dr. See you on the next one (assuming that there will be one in the future).

[lranceusw4]

School First Half

First Session

My first session was at the museum, I met with the group of Year Nine students, who were lovely and definitely reminded me of myself at that age, and reintroduced myself to the teachers. I immediately felt like this was something I would enjoy, in school I loved to follow the rules and felt more in-line with the staff than the students so actually being a member of staff felt like a long-time coming. We went into the museum and met one of the staff members there involved with the project, Alison, who is the director of the museum. We dumped bags off in the learning room and then Alison gave the group a tour of the Ethel Mairet exhibition. I did a bit of research before coming but found it so useful to be shown around by someone who has spent years gathering information for the exhibition, it was a lovely experience. We then gave the group a few minutes to go around on their own taking pictures and sketching artefacts to help with their documentation in their sketchbooks - the project is to fulfil the Bronze Art Award which is hosted by the museum, the students are researching Ethel and then having a hands-on go at her craft in workshops in the school, they will also later teach what they learn to two groups of younger students to finish the Art Award. We then returned to the learning room and all listened to a presentation over Zoom by Radhi Parekh who works in India with local weavers. She taught us all about the history of spinning wool and weaving cloth in India and the way Ethel links to Gandhi and the importance of Indian weaving in their fight for independence from British Colonialism, which is why their flag has a spinning wheel in the centre. 

It was a shorter session but this was as it was setting up for the next ones in which we will do workshops with an artist from Bristol which will have more teaching and helping needed. I had a great time anyway, I already feel hugely inspired and enthusiastic about this project and feel so lucky to be able to help out and tag along for the ride. This session also was the perfect way of easing me into the placement. I couldn’t have planned it better! The students were in non-school uniform so I didn’t stick out hugely, although I was much taller than the kids, and it was in the afternoon on a Friday which meant everyone was excited and relaxed (including the teachers).

Session Two

The second session was my first in school, I had to sign in at reception and wait for the other guests - Angie Parker the weaver from Bristol and Sarah Montague from the museum - before we were led to the classroom where the workshop would be. I was a bit nervous sitting waiting for them as I’d never met them before and I usually get a bit anxious about small-talk and introductions - however, it was completely fine! They were very smiley and kind and we chatted about the workshop and my university course happily. Me and Sarah helped Angie bring the equipment out of her car and then set up on tables around the room. We also brought the looms for tomorrow's session across to the Art Block and I wrote out name tags for the kids so Angie could learn their names quicker. After lunch the kids came in and the workshop got started. We were doing natural dyeing with four different substances; onion skins, avocado, red cabbage, and weld. First Angie explained how to prepare the wool, winding it into lengths and tying string so it wouldn’t knot together in the dye bath, then we got the water boiling and put the dye material in with the wool. She then explained the science behind dyeing and linked it with Ethel’s practice. The kids then had fun experimenting with different acids and alkalis to change the colour of the dye water, this got a little messy but it really opened their eyes to how many vibrant colours you can get from simple natural plants. Next we all looked at examples of Angie’s work and lots of samples of fabric she bought from India when she lived there, these again linked to Ethel’s time in India and the influence their culture had on her.

After the wool was finished both dyeing and then cooling slightly, we were able to get them all out and see the finished product - some went as expected and others didn’t, but Angie pointed out that’s the beauty of natural dyes. We used a lettuce spinner to get more of the water out and then at 4.30 it was time for the kids to go. We packed up all the pots, pans, fabric, and wool, making sure we left the classroom clean and not sprinkled with drops of strangely coloured water, then we carried the equipment back out to Angie’s car. I had a really great day, I loved getting involved with the process and helping Angie but also feel very motivated to do my own natural dyeing now I’m equipped with the knowledge of how it works. I was mainly helping students with the dying and being Angie’s assistant - moving things around and preparing resources for her - and it was really fun, the students are all so sweet and fun, and I felt very comfortable in the classroom. Tomorrow we will be weaving with the newly dyed wool.

Session Three

Session three was similarly lovely, we set up in a different room, setting out six large looms on tables. The workshop started with Angie giving a demo for the students, showing how the looms worked but also naming each part and explaining what they would look like on a full scale floor loom like Ethel used. While most of the kids then started working away on their weaving, Angie set two of the students up on back-strap looms - as there weren't enough frame looms to go around - this was the area I then took over. When the kids swapped around I’d explain the back-straps to the new pair of students. I enjoyed this greatly, there were only two students so it felt very casual and calm, but I was helping them handle the wool and explaining the whole weaving process so they knew how to continue. It felt good to see them understanding as I explained and answering their questions when they needed help. Doubly satisfying was knowing I too had learnt a new skill that I could go home and practise! I also brought some of my personal wool and my drop spindle in to show to the class. I asked Angie and the teachers in the morning if that would be useful and they were more than happy for me to do a little talk about it. So, I spoke to the group about spinning wool to fill in the missing step in the process that they hadn’t yet seen - what happens to get the wool from sheep to weavable yarn - I showed them my drop spindle and how to use it along with some raw wool before it had been cleaned and carded. The teacher was very glad I did this bit, it helped give them more context for the wool industry and helped with information for their sketchbooks. I was really glad it went down so well for the people listening, and it went well for me speaking! I felt a bit nervous, especially when the teacher called over the students and I was just waiting for them to line up and listen but once I was talking I felt more in-control, and I said all I had to say and did it confidently.

  The workshop continued until all cushion covers had been woven and time was up. I helped in a few other areas, like assisting students who were spinning wool on the yarn winder and some who had confused themselves with the patterns on their frame looms. It was a great day and I felt really settled into the role of ‘teacher’, it felt great as I love being helpful, and I learnt new skills that I can take with me in my own practises at home. During the clear up, Sarah from the museum spoke to me about a weekend workshop they are holding and invited me along for free, both to help out and take part. I was surprised, but very grateful and lept at the opportunity. It felt so exciting to be in the room with people who had creative and museum jobs and then to be accepted as one of them, it was the first time I’ve made connections like that and I felt really proud that she invited me as I must have come across as helpful and kind.

[littleaxebad]

A Very Daric Halloween

(Is that better?)

Inspired partly by @cupofangst and partly by the lovey-dovey couple tiktoks Instagross has inundated my For You Page with, here is my spicy Daric Halloween fic - and only... what day is it? Seven days late.

******

“Dar…” Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but what the fuck are you wearing?” “My Hallows Eve costume.” “You look like a lumberjack.” “I am a typical American man.” Dar seemed characteristically pleased with himself. He was wearing a red and black checkered shirt, dark blue jeans, and a pair of work boots. He had pushed his usually messy ‘80s boy band’ haircut into a slicked back style and, with his old prescription aviators on, seemed comically midwestern.  “Everyone at work will come as this,” was his explanation, as he turned back to the mirror to finish adjusting his hair. “Right, well, have fun…” Eric trailed off. Today was going to be a long fucking day, he just knew it. Something about Friday afternoon’s stressful climax assured him of the firefighting he’d have to do when he got into the office. He didn’t relish the idea. He’d much rather put on a flannel shirt and join Dar at the market - but someone had to pay their rent. Dar caught him pouting in the mirror. “Come, I walk you to the train.” “You know that’s not necessary - besides, I hate the way people stare at you.” Dar shrugged, “let them. I am an American male, and therefore I do not care.” Eric laughed, but he was an American male, and he cared a lot. 

At the train station they exchanged a handshake that to a simple passerby probably looked like a regular farewell handshake between two men, but their hands lingered a little longer, and Dar’s index and middle fingers brushed along Eric’s wrist. Then they parted, Dar making his way to the market to laugh at white women and drink soda, and Eric to his shitty office job under the thumb of the American airforce. Joy unbounded, he thought bitterly, stepping onto the train.

When Eric arrived home that night, there was a wet tray outside their door with a sign above it that said PLEASE TAKE. If Eric was surprised that Dar had participated in the building’s Halloween activities, he was too tired for it to register on his face. He collected the tray and the sign and let himself in. Divesting himself of his shoes in the entry way, Eric deposited his burden in the kitchen. Dar was situated on the couch, with his feet on the coffee table, watching the TV (one of the chief ways Dar practiced his English was by watching the TV). Eric pulled off his coat and left it on the kitchen counter with everything else. It wasn’t until he’d flopped down on the couch that Dar acknowledged him, pulling him in sideways and wrapping a strong arm around his shoulders. “It is very late,” Dar commented after a few moments, not taking his eyes off the TV. “I told you I’d be late,” Eric wasn’t in the mood to be berated about his lack of work/life balance. “I thought you understood.” <I do, habibi, better than you know.> Dar wasn’t wrong about that. For a long time he’d given his entire life to the Republican Guard.  Eric nuzzled his face into Dar’s shoulder, “let’s not do this tonight… I saw the tray out in the hall. What were you handing out?” Eric felt Dar shake with sudden laughter, “soda.” There was no reason that should be funny, or have made such a mess, “from the store?” Dar nodded, and Eric sensed there was something missing from the story. “Dar…” Eric tried using his best Rachel impression. “Perhaps, I did not use the bottles?” Eric hauled himself off the couch and went into the kitchen. There were a dozen or so empty soda bottles in the sink, and everything was wet and sticky. Eric bit his lip. He wasn’t really sure he wanted to ask, but he had to. “What did you give the kids, Dar?” There was at least a decent pause of awareness before Dar burst out laughing.  “The little zip bags,” he finally managed, looking over the back of the couch and grinning. “You gave children ziplock bags full of loose soda for Halloween…”  Eric crossed over to the couch and lowered himself onto Dar’s lap, one knee on either side of his thighs. “What are you, five fucking years old?” He held Dar’s face in his hands, forcing the older man to look at him. <You just don’t understand our sense of humour.> “What, you and the other children?” Dar gave a cheeky grin, picked up the remote and finally switched the TV off. Then he began to run his hands up and down Eric’s sides. “It has been a long day for you,” he observed innocently, “you are tense. You should relax.” Eric shook his head, “you really are something, you know that, right?” Dar cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow raised, uncomprehending. Eric kissed him on the forehead.

“Did everyone like your costume?” He asked, undoing the top button of Dar’s checkered shirt. Dar just made a humming sound and changed the movement of his hands, so that they were now running over Erics thighs and ass. Eric moved down to the second button, burying his face in Dar’s neck as he did so. At the third button Dar’s hands went to Eric’s belt, and at the forth button he was sliding the belt out of its loops and dropping it on the floor.  Someone is going to stand on that later, Eric thought as he ran his fingers through Dar’s ample chest hair. With his face still buried in Dar’s neck, Eric undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Dar untucked Eric’s polo and ran his hands along the lean back, digging his fingertips into the tense muscles. He found a particularly sensitive spot and Eric moaned.  “Do that again,” Eric whispered into the baby hairs at the base of Dar’s skull. The older man shivered slightly, but complied, eliciting a drawn out moan of pleasure from Eric as he worked on the tense muscle. Eric was still messing up Dar’s chest hair, kneading the deliciously soft flesh. Without warning, he pinched one of Dar’s exposed nipples and the older man grunted in surprise. The grunt turned into a growl as he pulled the polo over Eric’s head and threw it onto the floor. Then he got his fingers into Eric’s already dishevelled hair and began to massage his scalp. Eric leant back into the contact, giving Dar unrestricted access to bite his long, pale neck. Eric heard himself keen at the sharp pain, biting down on his lip as his fingers jerked on Dar’s shoulders. He pulled himself out of the head massage to forcefully push their lips together - an action Dar immediately reciprocated. 

With his hands back on Erics ass, Dar encouraged him to roll his hips forward, pushing their growing erections together through the tough fabric of their jeans. Eric moaned into Dar’s mouth, breaking the contact momentarily so he could push the fabric of Dar’s shirt down off his shoulders, before returning hungrily to that hot mouth. Dar’s excitable energy was infectious - Eric could feel his tension and negativity melting away under his lovers touch. He moved on from exploring Dar’s tongue to kiss and nip down his neck, before biting down hard on the older man’s shoulder. Dar moaned, loudly, as he fumbled with Eric’s zipper, tugging his pants down. Reluctantly, Eric pushed himself away, standing unsteadily. He pulled off his jeans and socks, then help divest Dar of his own, now very restrictive, American Denim. As Dar began to remove his shirt, Eric stayed his hand; “leave it on,” he whispered. Dar pulled Eric back into his lap, but didn’t rush him as Eric carefully removed his prosthetic. On the couch like this, with his leg wedged between Dar and the chairs’ arm, Eric didn’t need to be supported. But Dar still lovingly ran his fingertips over what remained of Eric’s right leg, an action which still made Eric’s heart flutter,  before taking his hands and kissing both of his wrists. Eric felt his face soften, and he leant in to rub their foreheads together.  “I love you, you absolute nightmare,” he whispered against Dar’s lips.  “A nightmare?” Dar’s voice was low, more gravelly than usual; full of lust. Eric murmured an affirmative as Dar wrapped the younger man’s arms around his neck, guiding Eric down into his lap again. Their faces were a hairsbreadth apart as Eric began rolling his hips again, sliding his prick against Dar’s through the thin fabric of their boxers. With one commanding hand on Eric’s right hip, Dar slipped the other under the waistband of Eric’s jocks, to push wandering fingers between Eric’s taut cheeks. Eric’s hips gave an involuntary jolt as Dar ghosted his hole, which caused them both to moan with pleasure. Dar withdrew his fingers and Eric watched with an open mouth as Dar ran his tongue between his middle and index fingers, before taking them in his mouth and sucking. A pathetic noise of lust tumbled out from between Erics lips and he pulled Dar’s hand away to claim that mouth for his own. Digging his own fingers into Dar’s hair to stop the other man from moving, Eric was so wholly focused on the kiss that when Dar slid a finger inside his ass it took him by surprise. A tiny, lyrical gasp escaped him as his hips bucked again, and he pushed back against the intrusion as he clumsily pulled his boxers down. Dar pulled Eric towards his body, trapping the American’s erection against his stomach, holding him in place with that powerful hand on his hip. He inserted another finger as Eric rubbed desperately against Dar’s abdomen. Eric buried his face in Dar’s hair, smelling coconut oil and cinnamon-based cologne, torn between pushing back to meet those fingers that were stretching him and abusing his prostate so deliciously, and pushing forward to rub his cock against Dar’s soft stomach. “Are you going to fuck me?” Eric mumbled. “I am fucking you.” Dar replied, increasing the pressure against his prostate and causing Eric to cry out. He wanted to do something for Dar, make his lover feel good, grab his dick and pump it to orgasm but his clouded mind was too far gone. He could only desperately thrust against the pleasure that was assaulting him from both sides. “Dar…” “My king,” came the rough reply, and Eric felt his entire body tense up. “Dar… fuck- Dar…” He was jerking erratically now, neither forward nor back, as his orgasm threatened to overwhelm him. Without warning, Dar bit down on Eric’s collarbone, and it tipped him over the edge. Constricting around Dar’s fingers, Eric let out an embarrassingly loud “OH, FUCK” as he threw his head back and came across Dar’s stomach and chest. 

Shaking, Eric let himself be lowered back into Dar’s lap. It took a few foggy moments of white noise and heavy breathing before Eric realised Dar was roughly jerking himself off, with his fingers still buried in Erics ass. Turning his head slightly, Eric began to suck on the flesh of Dar’s neck as he clenched around the Iraqi’s fingers. An animalistic noise of pleasure escaped Dar, prompting Eric’s orgasm-fucked mind to go into overdrive. Shaking the feeling back into his hands, he groped around for Dar’s chest, and began squeezing his thick tits and pulling on his nipples. Dar’s head fell back against the couch, and he began to thrust upwards into his own touch, bobbing Eric up and down with him. “So fucking strong,” Eric whispered appraisingly, raising his head slightly to nibble on Dar’s earlobe. A forced grunt of pleasure interrupted Dar’s heavy panting. Eric dropped one of his hands to join Dar’s, massaging the tip of his lovers generous prick.  “Cum for me,” Eric whispered into the corner of his mouth, pressing the pad of his thumb against Dar’s slit, “fucking cum for me.” Dar’s orgasm exploded out of him on an upward thrust, with a deep guttural groan and a spray of hot, milky seed. Eric massaged him through the aftershocks before settling comfortably against his lover as Dar came down from his high.

After long moments of silence, Dar pressed a chaste kiss against Eric’s forehead. Eric could practically feel the smugness radiating off him as Dar casually asked, “so was that a trick or a treat?”

[mickey-henry]

everything is blue

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: everything is haunted with memories of you; bucky yearns to feel your love once again

word count: 684

author's note: hello! it's been a while since I've posted some writing, and inspiration finally hit! I hope you enjoy!

Bucky Barnes is sickeningly in love with you—you consume his every waking moment. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t regret letting go of the best thing he’s ever called his.

He wanted an eternal love with you, everlasting and ever-growing. But after one misunderstanding blown out of proportion, there was no prize for Bucky’s affections in the end, except for a squashed soul.

The moon fell in love with the sun; you’ve always been the light that guided his heart. Even though he gave this love his all, he eclipsed your heart rather than nurturing it.

The world continually plagues his thoughts with memories of you: the one who got away. Even things as simple as colors remind him of his greatest love.

Red used to represent your favorite lipstick that stained his lips and collar after sensual nights with you, beautiful marks that told the world he was yours. Now, red haunts him: the hurt, anger, betrayal that roared in your eyes the last time he was you, absolutely shattered after he broke your trust. An endless pit of regret forms in his heart when red crosses his path.

Orange is the roaring bonfire that engulfs his heart, a physical manifestation of how much he burns for you, a yearning that never stops, even in his dreams. Orange formerly represented your favorite time of year: autumn. Your seasonal decorations brought your shared apartment to life; this fall is bitter and barren, his heart and apartment mirror each other.

Yellow is your radiant, warm smile that brightens the days of everyone you interact with; the effervescent glow of your soul warms even the coldest of hearts. Bucky can’t look outside on a sunny day without being reminded that his cold, desolate world once was so bright.

Your first date was filled with green, a picnic within a meadow of wildflowers. Bucky is green with envy at the people still in your life, sick to his stomach that they bring the joy that he could if only he didn’t shatter your heart. He sits in the same place you once did, tears staining his cheeks on the days he misses you most. Today is one of those days.

Everything is tainted blue. Nothing in the world around him is as vibrant and beautiful as when he called you his. He can’t even look at his own reflection in the mirror without seeing remnants of you swimming in the vibrant ocean blue of his eyes. Blue used to represent your favorite place: the aquarium. Even on the days you couldn’t go, you’d watch the live streams of your favorite animals. Some of his favorite pictures of you are in the presence of your favorite animals, blue sunlight dancing across your cheeks.

Purple once was your weekend flower bouquets, ones you always bought yourself from the local florist on Friday afternoons. The lavender, hydrangea, and bellflower bundles brought your favorite color to life. Now, as Bucky passes supermarket flowers, his heart crushes and welts like the last bouquet he bought you, rotting and decaying.

Without the colors illuminating his life, he’s left in grey nothingness. That is until his phone lights up with your name one rainy evening. A simple text, “can we talk?” brings hope back into his heart again.

You meet the next day at your favorite coffee shop. You still love Bucky, and regret refusing to hear him out. The world’s been duller without him in it, you miss your James Buchanan Barnes. You silently sip on your latte as he feverishly apologizes, finally providing context for the worst evening of your life.

Bucky agonizes in silence, waiting for your response. You stare at him with a scrunched nose, a face you make when deep in thought. He swears the clouds part when you accept his apology and give him another chance.

And just like that, colors have meaning to him again. A rainbow perches above your head outside the café, a beautiful sight after days of stormy rain. Bucky Barnes is whole again and he’ll make sure to love you forevermore.

taglist: @aphrogeneias @starrynocturne @ambrosiase @midnightf @babycap @buckysbiota @kinanabinks @certainaesthetic @sableseb @bucksbestgirl @bvckysmoon @multiplums @mardema @belladonnabarnes @millennial-teenybopper @starlightcrystalline @amelia-song-pond @nahthanks @elijahs-wife @leyannrae @champagnebuckyyy @justreadingficsdontmindme @writingsomewrongs @meetmeatyourworst @rebelemilu @certainaesthetic @bloomingbucky @sableseb @bucksbestgirl @bvckysmoon @onceuponabarnes @gogolucky13 @amayatheowl

[ssscentral]

Devil like you

Summary: Your boyfriend has a revelation about who - or what - he really is as he invites over a friend to have some earth-shattering, toe-curling, out of this world fun with you. 

Pairing : Demon!Namjoon x Reader x Demon! Jimin

Genre : Smut. Pure filth. It be dirty.

Warnings : Threesome, Demon summoning, Overstimulation, Swearing, Restraints, Surprise your boyfriend is a demon, Dom!Namjoon, Dom!Jimin, Sub!Reader, Light Edging, Dirty Talking, Oral Sex (f and m), Fingering

WC : 5.5k

Member : Duda || @biaswreckme​​

A/N : Hope you enjoy reading this, i’m quite proud of it :v It’s my first AU for BTS, so be gentle T.T This fic is the second part of the group prompt “Hell of a Ride”, each part with our own interpretation, so stay tuned because there is more to come! Any similarities with Supernatural are not coincidental, thank you Spn wikis for the words in Latin and the inspiration for some of the abilities of these demons. And thanks so much @fluffy-fluffu​ for being the beta ♥

taglist: @sugasbabiie​

—————

You thought you should have known. You thought you should have seen the signs – and there were quite a few, thinking back on your relationship. It should not have surprised you like this. It should not have affected you like this. It should not make you wish for more, waiting for the next time it would happen. It should not… you should not… you should not want this as much as you did, right?

You should have seen it coming. It should not have caught you off guard like that, after all, who teaches this language with this much ease and what seems like almost natural and native knowledge? That should have been the first sign to strike your attention. He was not the first Latin professor in the language department at this university, but he was the best. But this department has a lot of languages, and Latin is part of the curriculum for some of the other languages. It was not weird to have a Latin professor. It was weird to have someone as hot as Namjoon teaching Latin. Hot, gods, you sound like a teenager again talking about boys and crushes. But yes, Kim Namjoon, one of the hottest teachers in the university – and it is a big one – teaches a dead language.

So when he asked you, the English teacher – not the only one in the department and you did not consider yourself to be one of the best-looking teachers there – out on a date, you said yes. It had been a while for you, issues with an ex left you being cautious about entering new relationships. It made you pay more attention to certain red flags, but there were none with Namjoon, at least not like those from before.

Kim Namjoon was considerate. Kim Namjoon was creative with his dates. Kim Namjoon was a romantic man, one that had you indeed feeling like a teenager dating for the first time, sneaking around the empty halls and classrooms, the butterflies in your stomach wild and making you giggle at the mere thought of him. Kim Namjoon paid attention to you and your problems. Kim Namjoon listened. And Kim Namjoon was great when it came to sex. Great actually did not really translate how incredible and mind-blowing sex with him was. He knew how to do things to your body like no one ever could before. He suggested some things – some kinky, oh, very kinky things indeed – to spice up the sex that you had only fantasized about but never had the courage to ask for, and he did not judge anything. It was almost as if his mission in bed was to give you utmost pleasure, even if it hurt sometimes – but it always hurt so good. Kim Namjoon was the perfect boyfriend. Maybe too perfect, so you think to yourself that you had ought to know better. No one could be this perfect. There had to be an explanation. And there was. You just never would have imagined that it would be this explanation.

The day had started just like any other, there was nothing special about it, at least to your knowledge. So why, oh, why did it have to be on this day? (Maybe you could ask them later.) You woke up to your alarm, as usual. You love your job, but you always found it difficult to get up this early in the mornings, so you always made sure to set more than one alarm. You got up, had breakfast – “breakfast” is a very general word, but you do eat a piece of toast while the coffee machine warms up. You had a shower, just a quick one to truly wake you up and get you going before getting dressed in your usual teaching outfit. Namjoon would be coming over later, so you would have time to shower again and get dressed up for date night after getting back from the university. You grab a travel mug on the way out, pouring the hot coffee in it, the smell invading your apartment just as you like it.

The classes go on without any issue; a slight problem with the projector in the beginning but nothing out of the ordinary and that would strike one’s attention, especially if one was used to dealing with the projectors in that older building the languages and literature department was stuck with. You crossed paths with Namjoon once the entire day, walking down the hallways of the old building; you were getting out of an English literature class, Joon going to teach his Latin II group. As your bodies got closer, both of you nodded in acknowledgment as if you were any other professor, but your hands discreetly touched in passing, just a small sign you had agreed on to let the other know everything is okay, have a good class, I love you, I will be waiting for you later. You knew he was going out on a field trip with an advanced class and he would have to leave during lunch, so you ate a sandwich in your office, watching some comedy series to relax and get energized for the rest of the day – of course, the hot and new cup of coffee helps -, every once in a while, pausing to chat with the other professor who chose to do something similar. The afternoon is not really that different from other Friday afternoons; no one usually comes during office hours, so no one came on this day. You spent your time alternating between counting the minutes on the ticking clock to be able to go home and get ready for the date and responding to some emails, starting the term report, and downloading some articles to read. You were alone in the office, so you have some music going to help distract you and try to make the time go by faster.

When you finally got home the first thing you did was hop on the shower again, but now taking some time for yourself, phone blasting your favorite songs as you washed the day away from your body, cleaning, shaving what you wanted, moisturizing with some shower oils Namjoon gave you and that you know he loved the scent of. You spent some time choosing your outfit for the evening, knowing it had to be good. You opted for a white lace and silk playsuit, the new lingerie that Namjoon had recently given you, and you knew it had to be expensive from the brand – expensive and fancy lingerie was a guilty pleasure you had that somehow Namjoon was able to indulge, and you had no complaints about it. It gave you an almost innocent look under the black dress, and you were curious to see Namjoon’s reaction. You did not do much for hair and makeup, choosing instead to keep it quite simple and natural – it was only going to be ruined later on anyways.

Soon you heard the bell ring and you looked at the small monitor near the door, letting him in. His hair was slicked back, giving him an edge that was not present in day-to-day life at university. He had his earrings on and paired up with his silver-rimmed glasses and that black blazer made him look unbelievably hot and so different from the pristine almost clumsy-like image of Professor Kim. He kissed you, murmuring a hi in the kiss, letting his hands roam over your dress. He paused and stepped back enough to look at you.

“Are you wearing the new gift?”

It only took a nod from you to have him pressing you against the wall, hitching your leg up and around his waist. His hands took advantage of the position and touched your skin, going up your thighs and bunching up your dress in the way, giving him access to feel the lace and silk on your body.

“Fuck,” he paused, almost breathless, “fuck the reservation, right? I need you now.”

You nodded in affirmation, almost as out of breath as him, “Fuck the reservation, fuck me instead.”

He didn’t need anything else to press you even harder against the wall, hoisting both of your legs; you wrapped them around his body, and he pushed his hips into yours, you could feel how hard he already was. You moaned into the kiss, his hardness was right against where you needed it the most, and when he started slightly moving his hips into yours, it made his length deliciously drag against your clit. The feeling was also enhanced by the lingerie; every time Namjoon canted his hips up, it made the lingerie move up together and tug on your skin, and it did not take long until it was snugged between your nether lips and you were certain you were staining the front of Namjoon’s pants with your wetness as he started nibbling on your earlobe, sucking and kissing your neck, the skin caught between his teeth to make sure it would leave bruises. And then he let you go, dropping your legs from around his body.

“Do you trust me?” He looked into your eyes, seeming unsure, which was unlike him. You could swear that his eyes got darker for a brief moment – and not in the way writers usually describe, with eyes darkening with pleasure or something akin to that. No, it seemed that they physically turned darker, almost black, but you thought you must be imagining things. It could not be humanly possible.

“I trust you, Joon.” You said without any hesitation, fingers entangling with his and taking him in the direction of your bedroom.

He started by taking off his glasses and carefully putting them on the wooden nightstand, taking a minute to take off his blazer and carefully drape it over the piece of furniture. He then turned to you and you felt nervous, his walk almost predatory towards you. He gripped your shoulders, taking the straps of your dress into his hands, and it felt like he was considering just ripping the piece out of your body and your breath faltered. So this was the mood today. But he must have thought better and let his hands caress the front of your body, squeezing your breasts, his fingers then gliding over your clothed nipples, feeling them harder under his touch. His hands moved down, grabbing the edge of your dress in his fists and then lifted it up and off your body, and then you were there, standing in front of him, the white lace and silk that covered your skin seemed almost virginal when contrasted with the current mood. You bit your lip, looking at Namjoon, gaging his reaction, and you saw his eyes widen, a smirk crossing his lips, his tongue unconsciously poking out to lick his top lip. There was a different look in his eyes, one that you did not recognize at all, and you were getting slightly more nervous now. What did he have in store for you this time? You tried to think back to conversations you had, discussing ideas in between cuddles and kisses on the bed, after one of the times you had some passionate lovemaking, his eyes glued to yours the entire time, his body encompassing yours, protecting you. Not every time was kinky, but there was no doubt tonight was going to be. You took a deep breath and stepped forward, your fingers going to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one, slowly, your fingers shaking in anticipation.

“Remember when we were talking about maybe having another person in the bedroom with us?”

His question took you by surprise, your fingers stopping mid-action, and you looked at him. “Yes?”

“You are going to learn some things about me tonight, Y/n, but you don’t need to be scared.” He grabbed your hands, intertwining your fingers and kissing them while looking into your eyes. “I promise everything will be okay, and I’ll answer all your questions later. Now I just want you to enjoy yourself.”

And ok, now you were worried, and he could see that in your face, so he brought you closer to his body, hugging you, and your arms tightened around his body.

“You don’t have to be scared, love. It can be scary, but have I ever hurt you?”

“Well…” you started, giggling at the double possibilities to answer his question.

“I’m talking about real harm, Y/n. And might I remind you, who asked to be spanked again?” He chuckled, shaking his head, the mood getting a little lighter. “I can’t promise it’s not going to frighten you at first but keep an open mind. You have your safeword, you can stop this at any time, no matter what.”

“Ok. I can’t promise I won’t fear whatever it is… because you are scaring me a little bit, Joon. But I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me like that.” You raised your head from where it was resting on his chest, looking into his eyes again, and this time you could not be mistaken. They were black. Like black black; you could not see any of the previous colors in his irises, even the sclera was taken over by the color, and it hit you. You took a quick step back, letting go of his body, shocked. Was… was this real?

“I’m still me,” his voice was soft and his hands raised by his sides in that universal sign of I’m not going to hurt you. “It’s always been me.”

“So you’re not… possessed?” you laughed in disbelief.

“No. It’s always been me,” he repeated, taking one step closer to you with one of his hands reaching out, and hesitantly you grabbed it. “Let me show you. I promise you will have a good time.”

Your body was still shaking with fear when you let yourself get closer to him, but his words were starting to reassure you, calm you. If he had always been like this and never harmed you, you would be okay, right? The fear and worry were slowly starting to give way to curiosity and some slight confusion when he started muttering some words under his breath. Now, you did not understand Latin – it was a dead language, come on –, but you were able to pick up that he was almost chanting in it, words like te invoco, spiritus, infernalis, and daemon being spoken with more intensity. He finished saying it and kissed you deeply, his arms encircling your body and pulling you to him, when you suddenly felt another presence behind you, a second body pressing against you, feeling a hard chest pressing you into Namjoon even more. You stopped the kiss, looking over your shoulder, and your eyes stumbled upon another black-eyed figure. This man, this demon, was shorter than Namjoon, but with the way the front of his body was glued to your back, you could feel he was just as muscular, maybe even more, from what you were feeling from his thighs. There were no words for his face. You thought Namjoon was handsome, but this man’s face was on a whole other level of beauty, with those rounded full lips that would give Namjoon’s a run for their money. If it were not for his black eyes you would dare say his face was angelic even, with his light-colored hair parted in the middle. But something about the smirk and raised eyebrows let you know that there was nothing angelic about him.

“Damn, Namjoon. You’ve been hiding her this entire time?” He almost growled, shifting his hips, and you felt the hardness in his pants. “If I’d known, I’d have come sooner.”

“And this is Jimin, Y/n,” he started, scoffing at his… friend? “Now close your eyes and let us take care of you.”

He did not wait for an answer from you, and at the same time his lips found yours, you felt Jimin’s lips on your neck and his hands on your waist, and you could only sigh, close your eyes, and give into these new sensations. The two pairs of hands were roaming your body; the contrast of their clothed bodies against yours, almost naked, was heightening the sensation of your powerlessness, and you had to press your thighs together in an attempt to bring some pressure to your center and relieve some of the aching. You could feel their smirks when you did it, and then Jimin’s hand traveled downwards and on the front of your body, his fingers sneaking under the lingerie to feel your wetness.

“Fuck,” his voice was almost strained, “she’s dripping, Namjoon.” His fingers went all over your mound spreading your wetness around, careful to not touch you for too long to tease you.

“Is this right, Y/n?” Namjoon asked against your lips, then tilted his head back to look at you, his hand joining Jimin’s. “I know you get wet for me, but if I had known you would be dripping like this, I would have brought Jimin much sooner.” He stated as his fingers toyed with the straps of your playsuit, slowly lowering them. “And you are wearing this, today of all days… all in white…”

Namjoon’s fingers teased your nipples lightly at first, just caressing them while Jimin slowly lowered the lingerie down your body, giving open-mouthed kisses to your back and lower and he went down on his knees behind you. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back and grabbing Namjoon’s biceps for balance when Jimin lifted your left feet first then the right, letting the playsuit fall to the ground off your body. You felt a pinch to your nipples, and you sighed, and shortly after you felt his tongue circling it, then his mouth sucking on it, tugging lightly with his teeth. You clenched your legs again, only for Jimin to spread them. You felt Jimin’s breath on your backside, and his hands made you arch your back so he could see you better from behind, but you felt nothing else but his warm breath very close to your center, his hands gripping your thighs from the inside to stop you from closing them. When Namjoon used the fatal combination of pinching down on a nipple harder and biting the other and sucking on it, Jimin chuckled.

“Do that again, Namjoon. She liked it, she just clenched down on nothing so hard.” His mouth was so close to you yet doing nothing, and to worsen the situation, he used his hands to help you spread your legs more. “Tilt your ass towards me, Y/n, I want to see you clench like that again.”

You did so without hesitation, arching your back more so he could see you better, and when Namjoon did it again, inverting touch and bite to the other nipple, you clenched again, needing their touch, needing something. And he combined pulling your nipple with his teeth with his other hand entangling in your hair and pulling it down hard, increasing your arch. You heard Jimin chuckle softly again and then his mouth was pressed to your inner thigh, licking upwards as he moaned, probably tasting the wetness that had started dripping. Namjoon was not being gentle anymore, using the amount of pressure and strength he knew you loved, much rougher than when you were making love, your nipples becoming more sensitive and abused under his ministrations. This moment, with his lips around your nipples, his teeth worrying them, while Jimin licked your thighs, was pure and unadulterated passion and desire. You let one of your hands fall to grab Jimin’s hair to try and direct him, but he let one of your thighs go to wrap his fingers around your wrist while he bit down on your thigh. You moaned in pain, but you loved it.

Your other hand moved from Namjoon’s biceps to the front of his shirt to undo the few buttons that were left, and he paused what he was doing to help you. When you went to unbutton his pants, you felt your arm being pinned to your back by the demon between your legs. You looked back and down, seeing Jimin licking his lips again while he got up. He pulled you against his body, murmuring that tonight was about you and not to worry about them. As he said these words, Namjoon’s long fingers undid his own pants, hooking them under his underwear to take them off at the same time. His erection slapped softly against his stomach, his cock long and thick, the bulbous head already a little wet with precum. He stepped out of his pants, his strong thighs flexing, and he came closer to kiss you again, letting you feel his hardness against your belly. He started to pull you towards the bed, turning your bodies so you could fall against the mattress with him on top, but he did not stay long. He got up, looking at Jimin, and raised his eyebrows.

“You look so innocent like this, wide-eyed looking at us about to devour you,” Jimin started, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, putting on a show for you.

The dark shirt Jimin was wearing opened to reveal toned muscles beneath, ones you had already felt against your back. His light purple hair was slightly messy from your attempt to grab it; his lips were turned up into a corner smile observing the way you were watching him. He let his hands caress down his body, feeling his own muscles, his luscious lips open now. One of his hands went to the button of his pants and the other grabbed his crotch, showing you the outline of his erection, and then he took the black garment off, and he was wearing no underwear. His hand went to his erection again, stroking himself up and down slowly, showing you his body and how proud he seemed of it. His cock was just as beautiful as the rest of him, the head a light pink color, and while he was thinner than Namjoon, he was just as long and curved upwards, and it made you wonder if he could hit that spot without much effort.

“We are going to destroy you, and you will take it all. You will be lying there on the bed, ruined, a sinner, and in the end, you will be begging for me to come back again and wreck you.” Jimin’s voice was deeper, his black eyes shining under the lights and the promise. And then he looked at Namjoon. “Have you done it yet?”

You looked confused for a moment, especially when Namjoon answered a no and Jimin chuckled. And then you understood. Jimin snapped his fingers and your arms were suddenly above your head, pressed on the pillow. You tried moving them but to no avail. Oh. Your chest went up and down quickly, your breath faster, but you smiled.

“Oh, this is new. Can you do it too, Joon?” You needed to know. Had he been hiding this from you this whole time? He licked his lips and snapped his fingers, and then your legs were up, an invisible force holding them up and wide open, spread apart for them. You bit your lip and clenched down on nothing, moaning softly, your head thrown back into the pillow. “This is fun.”

You smiled at them and saw them looking at each other smiling as well, but you could not even imagine what was going through their minds. Could they communicate like that? You had so many questions to ask Joon later, but before your mind could wander any further, your body was being dragged to the edge of the bed by Jimin, who was kneeling on the floor in front of it. You had never felt so exposed before and so without control, although you knew all you had to say was that one word and everything would end.

“She tastes delicious, Jimin. You’re going to love it.” Namjoon sat by you on the bed, looking down at the other man, and lowered his head to whisper in your ear, “you want to know another thing I’ve been hiding? We don’t get tired.”

Namjoon bit your earlobe at the same time that Jimin licked you where you needed the most, from bottom to top. You could only moan loudly and arch your back, your fingers closing into tight a fist and your thighs clenching, but you could not move them. You thought he would make you beg for it, considering all the teasing from before, but he wasted no time and started applying pressure to your clit with his soft tongue, short circular movements alternated with longer licks while his fingers kept your lower lips spread open for him. Unable to move, all you could do was take it, the pleasure intensified by your inability to move your legs; there was no escape from Jimin’s tongue on the underside of your clit, its hood up, leaving it exposed and so sensitive to his probing. While Jimin was doing this, Namjoon began playing with your nipples again. They were already hard and a little red from before, more sensitive, so when he started pinching them again the pain seemed to go straight down to your clit, enhancing your pleasure, and he seemed to know this. He became relentless in teasing them, pinching harder, lowering his body beside you to bite at them, tugging on your nipples and pulling them, letting his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin. Jimin’s tongue was also relentless on your clit, and the first time he felt you getting close to your orgasm, he stopped and looked at you.

“Please, please…” you sobbed and moaned; the desperation clear in your voice as Namjoon did not stop.

“Should we see if she can cum only by teasing her nipples?” Jimin’s voice was playful.

“No, please, please, no, please,” you begged.

“Oh, Namjoon, she begs so beautifully. But is it a no or is it a please, do it?” His tongue was between his teeth, his smile wider now, the look on his face pure teasing. You shook your head negatively, a sob caught in your throat, but he continued, “You’re clenching again, Y/n. I think you can do this. But maybe another day,” you let out a sigh in relief, “another day, when we will tease you for hours, edge you until even our breath will make you cum, how about that?”

Jimin wasted no more time and got back to licking you, making out with your pussy, encompassing it entirely with his mouth, and the moment his lips closed around your clit to suck it, you lost it. It took you by surprise; the sensation usually begins with a slight tingle on your belly, and then it spreads to your fingers, but this time your whole body clenched as pleasure overtook you, his tongue continuing to press on your clit while he sucked to prolong your orgasm. You did not know what sounds came out of your mouth, as your ears seemed to be ringing, numb to sounds. You could barely murmur out a weak stop, but he ignored it – which also relieved you, you did not really want to stop–, choosing to insert a finger and then two into you, moving them in and out at first and then pressing them upwards, looking for the spot inside you that made you see stars. You were about to say you were too sensitive for him to continue when he found it, and as you moaned loudly you heard Namjoon say something to him, but you couldn’t understand what it was, but Jimin’s response was to increase the pressure of his fingers and let your clit go. You were confused for a second but you soon understood when you felt one of Namjoon’s hands moving down, his fingers then making quick movements on your clit, knowing it was what you needed to get you there fast again. This time you felt the sensation growing, a tingling on the tips of your fingers, your toes, as it grew and permeated your entire body again. You thought they would relent, and then you remembered what Namjoon had said. They did not get tired.

You lost count after the fifth orgasm, or so you thought it was the fifth; your voice was hoarse from moaning and your clit was so sensitive from all of the overstimulation, and they did not seem like they wanted to stop anytime soon. You could feel the tears that had escaped your eyes wetting your cheeks, and every once in a while, one of them would lick them away while the other continued his assault on your clit, the pleasure relentlessly taking over you again and again. You did not know anymore when one orgasm ended and the other began, the tingling sensation a constant on your entire body. And then, finally, they snapped their fingers again, releasing your body from the invisible restraints.

You could barely move, but they helped shift and turn your body until you were on your hands and knees, Namjoon’s body behind you. You heard the sound of a small foil packet being opened, and then he was pressing inside you, his cock stretching you even though they had used their fingers before. It was always a stretch, Namjoon going in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size before starting to thrust his hips into you. On his first thrust forward, you opened your mouth on a moan and Jimin took advantage of the opportunity to press his cock into your lips, holding your hair with one of his hands while the other was at the base of his cock, holding and moving it to go over your lips. You licked around his engorged head and then opened your mouth wider, taking him inside and sucking. You could barely keep your body upright, so soon your hands faltered, and you fell to your elbows, the dip in your spine changing the angle slightly and it had Namjoon pressing into that one spot that had you almost screaming. Jimin lowered his body, sitting down with his legs open to fit you between them, inclining his body backward, bending his elbows to have a good view of you, and it made it easier for you to suck him. His view was nice, your body bent forward, your ass being held by Namjoon’s hands while he pounded into you, but your view was not bad at all.

Jimin’s muscly thighs flexed each time he pressed his hips up, fucking into your mouth, his abs clenching, and his face… his face, dark black eyes half-closed, mouth open in a sly smile, licking his full lips still wet with your taste. You maintained eye contact while you sucked him, bobbing your head up and down, sucking hard when his head was about to leave your mouth, and when you went down, you let your tongue lick the underside. It was sloppy, saliva leaving your mouth, making him wetter and easier for your hand to help whatever did not fit your mouth. You were moaning around him, figuring he would like it as much as Namjoon did, and you were rewarded with high pitched moans from Jimin, his head now thrown back. On a hard suck downwards you felt his thighs clench and his release spill on your mouth at the same time Namjoon played with your clit, and you screamed and soon saw nothing else.

You did not know how long you were out, but when you came to your senses again you were lying on your front, covered by your blanket, and Jimin was nowhere in sight. You heard footsteps entering the room just when you raised your head and saw Namjoon with a cold bottle of water and pants on. He smiled tentatively at you, sitting by your side on the bed. He helped you sit, propped up against him, and you took the bottle from his hands, feeling thirsty.

“Hey,” his voice was almost shy, so different from before and from the usual Namjoon. Well, the Namjoon you thought you knew. “Are you ok?”

You nodded, smiling softly at him between sips. You looked around and then looked at him, the question clear in your eyes.

“Hm, Jimin’s gone now. He helped clean you up and left, we… we did not know if you wanted him here for the after. Or if at all. Or… if you still wanted me.”

It was strange, seeing this difference in him. Namjoon was so confident, especially in the bedroom, and after finding out the truth about him, you could not imagine he would ever be this timid.

“I still want you, Joon,” you could barely speak, but you wanted to reassure him, hugging him tightly. He needed you at this moment as much as you needed him. “I just have some questions, but I still love you.”

“I love you too, Y/n. And I’ll answer whatever you want.” He was eager to respond, his relief apparent in his voice.

“The first question is… can we have fun with Jimin again another time?”

[alyssadeliv]

The Forgotten One

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Chapter 12

They were going to the zoo. Richard had decided that after two months of her living in the Manor it was time to have some family bonding time. It didn’t matter that most of her time in the last months was used to get to know her new extended family or get reacquainted with her old one. 

He was adamant that she needed the full Gothamite experience, so here they were on a Friday afternoon on a crowded metro, listening as the oldest one tried and explained how Metro’s worked to her. He was so happy, gesticulating and smiling, that she didn’t have the heart to tell him that she indeed knew how the metro worked, having lived in Paris for almost two full years.

After Damian, Richard was her favorite sibling, mostly because she had always seen him as a role model, as part of her training had been inspired by him and his trapeze maneuvers, but she did enjoy the warmth that she tended to feel when he was around. He was patient and had no problem explaining pop culture references to her. Not that she didn't enjoy spending time with her other siblings, it was just that Richard went out of his way to make her feel accepted.

Tim was a very busy person, and their interactions were reserved to 3 a.m. coffee hunts. He wasn’t bad, just closed off, and a little wary of her after his first experience with Damian. Not that she could blame him. But she was a bit closer to his girlfriend, Stephanie Brown, who would come to have dinner at the Manor every week. 

And there was Jason. She refused to address him as her brother, that would just be plain weird. After the initial shock of finding each other again had worn out, it had taken a few weeks for them to finally address the elephant in the room. She could tell that he had struggled with the news that she was Bruce’s biological daughter.

“Dick, maybe speed the lecture a bit so we can still get to the zoo before it closes.” Jason was leaning casually against a wall, finding this whole situation funny. He was wearing jeans and his red leather jacket, nothing special, but if she was honest he looked rather handsome. 

“It’s fine Jaybird, I was just wrapping it up!” He says with a smile, just in time for them to catch the next wagon. Because they spent at least 25 minutes listening to Richard’s lesson, the metro had emptied a bit so they were able to find seats. It was just the three of them, the others would meet them there, after being picked up by Alfred, Damian after school, and Timothy after a meeting. 

“So… I know Bruce said not to ask, but I’ve been dying to know…” Richard starts unsure, afraid to cross a line. They were lucky to score seats in the same section, she was seated with Jason by her side, with Richard in front of him facing them both. “But how exactly did you two meet, I mean it was obviously at… Tibet-'' He caught himself before he could out them as members of the League, you never knew who could be listening in their conversation, so better safe than sorry. “- but why do you know Jason, but Damian didn’t?” 

With a glance to the side, she was more than happy to allow Jason to explain that part. In the two months she lived at the Manor she saw how much they wanted to ask about their relationship, but kept their distance. Aside from Damian, they didn’t feel the need to inform the family about their past. 

“Well, Pixie Pop here was the one to train me for the duration of my time in the Temple. Kicked my ass more times than I can count.” He says with a smirk, while casually butting an arm on the back of her seat. “She taught me most of what I know”

“Most of it?” She was indignant, but the smile on her face betrayed her true emotions.

“To be fair B didn’t totally suck as a parent.” She knew that he and Father didn’t have the best relationship after he came back from his time at the League, but according to Damian, it used to be way worse, not that she would know. Richard seems content with their explanation and didn't demand more information, even if he desperately wanted to. He respects their boundaries, and that only makes her like him more.

When they got to the zoo, Damian and Timothy were already there, but surprisingly Stephanie had tagged along, so now she wasn’t the only female in the group anymore, not that she cared, but she liked her brother’s girlfriend so the surprise was appreciated. 

She had never been to the zoo before, just to see the attractions. The times she went to fight an Akuma did not count. It was a bit sad seeing all these animals stuck in a cage, and she could tell her brother felt the same. Damian always had a soft spot for animals, and would not tolerate if they were being mistreated. Not surprisingly, the Waynes made annual donations to the zoo to ensure that all the animals were well taken care of. When she first heard about that she was glad that Father cared about Damian’s interests enough to pay to support every zoo and animal shelter in the city. It helped ease her guilt for abandoning him for two years knowing that now she was not the only one who cared for him.

They spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying the animals. And Dick was glad he chose to go to the zoo as a family bonding experience. When Damian first came into the family he had taken him there, after discovering that his younger brother absolutely adored animals and he was happy to see that Marianne liked it as well.  

Efficient as always, Alfred was already there waiting for them the minute they crossed the exit of the building. As she came to know, the men seemed to have a six sense when it came to all of them. Just by his aura, she could tell he wasn’t someone you wanted to cross, but she could see how much he loved each one of his grandchildren (because she could never kid herself to think of him any less than a Grandfather).

“I assume that today's activities were enjoyable.” The butler asks as he opens the back door of the limo for them. Richard enters first thanking the men.

“It was acceptable” Damian voices, as he too enters the vehicle.  

It was a bit of a ride, seeing that the Manor was almost outside of Gotham, but she didn’t mind. Seated between Richard and Damian she spent most of the journey chatting with everyone. But by the time they arrived at the house everyone was a bit tired, so dinner was a relatively small affair. But not uneventful, because as revenge for Bruce bailing on family day, the boys started sharing with her all the shenanigans of her father’s public persona, Brucie Wayne. It was amusing to see this new side to her father, always so reserved and serious. 

“If you are all finished sharing Master Bruce's embarrassing moments, I believe it is time for patrol.”  Alfred as always came to defuse the situation before it could implode. 

Because she spent most of the last two years fighting almost every single day, she decided that she needed some rest from her hero lifestyle. Even after her father asked if she would like to accompany them on patrols, she decided to turn it down for now. So while her family directed themselves to the cave, she made her way into her suite. 

It was a beautiful room. Although the color scheme wasn’t something she would have picked herself, it fit with the furniture rather nicely, and her artist side appreciated that. The room itself was simple, but the red colors and the dark wood made the room seem cozier than it was. With a double bed with a canopy, two bedside tables, a vanity with a mirror, and a wardrobe, it had everything she needed. Her Father had encouraged her to decorate her room the way she wanted, and she had been tempted to do so, but ultimately decided to wait until she settled into her role as a family member before she went and added more change to the mix. What she had been very close to doing was adding a desk so she could draw and design, but after she discovered that there was a big one in the library just a few doors from her room, she dismissed the idea.  

Quickly she showered and changed into something more comfortable than her street attire, before exiting the room and making her way into the library. It wasn’t as big as the one downstairs, but it had a big balcony that overlooked the gardens, so she liked to just sit in a shadow and sketch away. Damian had been kind enough to spare one of his unused sketchbooks and some pencils, knowing that she liked to draw just as much as he did. She leaned forward into the railing resting her arms and head, but still looking upwards.

The sun had already set, and she was glad that they were far enough away from the city that she could see some stars in the sky. Having lived in Paris, she had really missed all the stars she could see at night from her home on the League. One of her studies had been about the Astros, so she spent a lot of time as a kid contemplating the skies. 

“It’s going to rain soon” A voice comes from behind her. Without having to turn around she knew who it was. A smile appears on her face.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for patrol?” She asks, straightening her body, but still not turning around. She could feel the person getting closer to her until she felt a presence at her side. 

“That’s the whole point. It's gonna rain.” He carries a hint of humor in his tone “And besides I prefer to keep you company, Pretty Girl. Besides, I believe Red Hood deserves one night off. The guy has been working hard.” He jokes.

With a smile she finally faces him. He had showered and changed, and without his red jacket, he looked so relaxed. It reminded her of their time in the League. Like that he looked so much like the angry boy she helped train. So young and while broken, so full of life and fight in him. He smirks at her but turns his face upwards to look at the night. 

“You always did love the stars.” He commented, not looking at her. “It’s sad that here you can't see them as much.” 

“It’s not that bad. In Paris, you couldn't see any. It was sad, but to be fair the whole city more than compensated for that. It’s beautiful there.” She recalled all the times she went on a midnight stroll around the city, just enjoying the architecture. “I could spend eternity drawing all the details in the buildings.” 

“Do you miss it?” He asks, looking at her. His tone is neutral, but by his body language, she can tell he’s anxious for her answer. She had always been good at reading him, and she was glad that their time apart had not changed that. 

“In a way…” 

She sighs.

“I liked the city, but I spent most of my time there fighting and training. Not much different from before. It was like everything changed but was still the same. To be completely honest… I miss our time at the League the most.” She confesses but hurriedly continues. “Don’t get me wrong, it was hard! But still… at the same time…”

“I get it.” He interrupts her. He has a small side smile, and the dimples on his face make her want to freeze this moment and draw him so she could eternalize him. Instead, she gets closer to him, seeking comfort in his presence at her side. He embraces her. Securing her in his arms, her body pressed against his, her head buried in his chest.

It was funny to think that the most capable woman to take care of herself he knew, chose to be vulnerable around him. It made him feel loved.

“I miss it too.” He whispered in her ear. She raises her head, just enough that she can see his face without removing herself from his arms. Staying like this reminds her of all the nights he used to sneak into her chambers. And they would talk and hold each other for hours. It felt like it was just yesterday the first time he got the better of her.

“Focus!” She yelled while landing a kick at his unprotected left side. “You are unbalanced- in three moves I could have you on the ground again” She punched him to his right, but he was able to block her and tried to deliver a punch of his own. His knuckles were bloodied, and he knew that in the morning his ribs would hurt. But at this moment he was high on adrenaline. She dodged. 

They were training for what felt like hours. But both were too stubborn to ask for the fight to end. 

But just as promised, in three more moves he was on the ground. He tried to get back on his feet to continue with the fight but was stopped by a foot on his torso.

“That’s enough.” She helps him to get on his feet. “You were great! You could have overpowered me so many times! I left you so many openings!” She laughs. This was routine for them. After a fight, Marianne was usually so pumped with adrenaline that she spoke at a mile per hour. “We really need to work on your tactics this week. Oh! You also need to improve your stance, you’ve been favoring your right side too much. I know your ribs hurt but you still need to protect your body as a whole.” She comments only stopping to take a large sip of water. “Well, I am spent.”

“You’re spent? I’m the one that has been eating dirt for the whole hour!” He complains indignantly. She tossed a water bottle in his direction, which he grabs and happily finishes in a single gulp.

“Just another reason you need to study more!” She grins. And turns to exit the room, and while walking to the door turns to him again. 

“See you in a bit” She winks. 

When they meet again they are in her room. She’s seated on the bed sketching some view, while Jason sits on the floor sharpening his knife. They chat casually for some time, but ultimately end speaking about their training session earlier. 

“That move would have totally worked!” He exclaims, knife long forgotten he now kneels facing her bed. 

“There’s where you are wrong, you need strength on your fist on both sides to push my torso, otherwise I would easily be able to doge only one. You need two punches at different sides in succession for you to distract your opponent!” She explains in a hurry. Her thoughts jumped around her head. 

“No way! If it’s strong enough, only one is needed!” He argues.

Worked up she threw her notebook to the side, forgotten. In a second she was up, signaling for him to do the same.

“There is no way. Stand there, pretend to be in stance.” She directs, and without a second thought, he complies. “Okay, so I come for your right side first, you are stronger there.” 

Her movements are slowed, as she demonstrates the move. “That’s going to distract you, and keep you focused on your stronger side, leaving your weaker one unprotected.” She shows him where he left an opening for her. “So all I need to do now is strike again, focusing more strength now. Either a punch or a kick would do the trick.” As she goes to demonstrate her point, he grabs the incoming slow punch and pulls her into his body. 

Unprepared she loses her balance, falling into his chest. In a second he secures her with his other arm, keeping her in his embrace. She feels her face burning with embarrassment. He caught her by surprise, and she felt ashamed.

“Hey that wasn't fai-” But he silences her, bringing his face closer to hers and giving her a heated kiss. It lasts for some time, but when they finally separate themselves he has a grin on his face.

“Just to be clear, I knew the move wouldn’t have worked. You just look cute when you're angry.” 

And before she can protest he shuts her up with another kiss.

So this is by far the biggest chapter! Hope ya’ll like it! We finally get the story behind Jason and Marianne. Let me know what you think!

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[grizzledyoungimpact]

Pairing: Santana/Lillie Cueto Quote: Who can say there’s a way? Verse: High School

Society would always have the haves and the have-nots, and high school was no exception. It was just a simple fact of life that Micheal Santana had learned all too well. He knew that he didn’t fit in with most cliques. He certainly wasn’t a nerd and, though he played both football in the fall and ran track in the summer, Santana didn’t consider himself a jock. Instead, Santana saw himself as an outsider, someone on the fringes of high school life.

It was from these fringes, this outside, that he had the best view of the upper echelon. It was from the fringes that Santana had the best view of Lillie Cueto.

Lillie was one of the rich girls, even if she didn’t act like it. Her father, Dario, was a well-to-do attorney who paid for his daughter to have the best of everything. That wasn’t a discredit to Lillie as a person. She was brilliant, high grades amongst her peers, as well as being on the lady track team as well as on the volleyball team.

But, it was because of her tutoring that Santana had gotten to know Lillie better.

Every Friday after classes, Santana would meet up with Lillie for help with his math class. In the beginning, it had been boring to Santana. He had only come to tutoring because his position as a member of the football team was at stake. But the more he saw Lillie, the more he didn’t want to feel like an outsider anymore.

“Afternoon princesa,” Santana greeted with a smile as he sat down at their usual table in the library. His bookbag hit the floor with a small thud, looking back in his chair. “You look good today.”

Lillie gave a soft smile, brushing a strand of raven hair behind her ear. Santana swore he caught sight of a newly pierced ear, “I’ve asked you not to call me that, Tana. It’s just Lillie.”

Santana scooted his chair closer to hers, corner of his lip turned upward into a smirk, “Lillie then. Your ear…the earrings nice.”

Lillie looked up from the math textbook in front of her, “I…I got it done last night. I…uh…I got the inspiration from you.”

Santana let one of his hands trail up to his own ear, “Never struck you as an earring girl. Thought it would be a little too…rebellious…for you.” He reached down into his bag, removing his own textbook and a folder, “Guess we’re out here influencing each other.”

Lillie watched as Santana produced a math quiz from the folder, “That the one we studied for?”

“Got an A thanks to you, Lillie,” Santana charmed, resting his hand over the top of hers, “Was thinking…if you’re free after tutoring…Ortiz and I were gonna go get dinner. Maybe hit up the quarry. You ever been?”

There was a hesitation from Lillie. It wasn’t the first time that Santana had asked her to hang out. Santana was used to Lillie quickly turning him down. Part of him wondered if it was because she truly didn’t like him or if it was because of her home life, if her father disliked him. “You know…my dad is gone for the weekend. Maybe Nova and I could join you two later?”

“You won’t regret it. I promise that,” Santana smirked, leaning back into his chair.

“Who can say there’s a way,” Lillie giggled, locking her fingers with his, “I’m gonna hold you to that promise.”

[rreeaahh]

Arms Tonite | draco malfoy

Arms Tonite - for @vogueweasley​ ‘s writing challenge (inspired by the song)

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader (ravenclaw)

words count: 10k - lyrics in italic

summary; your relationship with draco went from strangers, to lovers, to strangers again - but it broke the barrier between life and death.

warnings: the word “mudblood”; swearing; death eaters; voldemort; death of a character; some fluff; angst; kinda sad; slow burn; blood mention; (that’s all i could think of, please let me know if there are more!)

a/n: im so so so sorry if thats too long, my loves! i got carried away by this idea - i had it in my mind for so so long i used @vogueweasley 's writing challenge as motivation. again, congratulations mere! You're one of the first writers ive followed here, and I'm happy to see your blog growing❤️

 “Can I sit there?” you asked softly, embracing the pile of books to your chest. They were all for your Potions’ essay, where you really wanted to excel, only to prove Professor Snape what you were capable of.

Since the first year, Snape turned out to be a walking nightmare for all the students in the entire castle, especially for the ones who hadn’t a green tie around their neck. Being a Ravenclaw, the desire to know more was a normal thing for you: always asking questions and making assumptions only to gain more information made Snape grow a feeling of hatred towards you. He’d externalize that hate by giving you extra work, asking you questions you had no idea to answer, criticizing your skills in front of the class – basically, everything he could do to embarrass yourself and to show your classmates that you weren’t as smart as you wanted to introduce yourself.

“What?” the boy asked in confusion, his fingers squeezing the silver quill he was using to take notes from a booked that seemed to be about Transfiguration – a subject where you were at the top of the class, as Professor McGonagall told you proudly.

“I asked if I could stay here,” you repeated in a quiet voice, not wanting to disturb the rest of the people who were struggling with their work. “All the tables are taken and that’s my spot, usually,” you added when he frowned his brows, scanning the room.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said careless, going back to his piece of parchment. “That’s my spot usually, too, but I haven’t seen you here,” he whispered as you sat down, in front of him.

“I don’t think we share classes, so I think we don’t go to the library at the same time. But maybe it could be our spot from now on.” Your explanation made the blonde boy look away, his cheeks running paler while the skin of his neck, revealed by the crack of his unbottoned shirt, seemed to burn.

The silence fell on you two, the room being filled only with whispers and quills running their ink on the papers. You really had to impress Snape with that essay, you had enough of his comments and ugly looks – he was a great teacher, a very skilled person, but he had a horrible way to be human – that if he could be considered a human being. Deep down you feared Snape – his cold eyes, his fluttering cloak and his loud steps: all of that gave you goosebumps all over your body. Thinking of those you felt your breath tangling up in your throat, and the letters started to dance in front of your eyes. At first, you looked around the room, searching for the Weasley twins, but it wasn’t a prank: it was the stress which took control over your mind, playing tricks and messing with you. Your throat was dry, and every time you tried to swallow your saliva it felt like you had sand in your mouth. Your tablemate seemed to notice your discomfort, because he looked at you under his eyelashes, his right brow raising in confusion or annoyance.

“What are you doing?” he asked, now looking at you without any reservation.

“Hm?” you buzzed, making eye contact with him. You couldn’t figure out if he was surprised by your daring glare, or intimidated or amused – he only kept on looking into your eyes, not revealing any true emotion.

“You keep on swallowing and it looks like you’re drowning or something.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled politely, which made him go back to his work. But when you kept on acting like you couldn’t breathe, he dropped his quill on the table and look like you with frustration. “What?”

“You’re distracting me, obviously,” he rolled his eyes. “Some of us are trying to focus, so keep quiet or leave.”

It was very rude of him – in your opinion – to talk to you, a complete stranger, like he could give you orders; especially when you did nothing wrong.

“Me too,” you sighed, “It’s only that…” But you stopped in the middle of the sentence, reminding that you didn’t know who you were talking to, and he probably didn’t care.

“Only what?” he asked, making you look at him again. His face was blank – relaxed, like he was an emotionless metal can.

“I’m not that good with Potions, so I’m struggling a little bit,” you smiled with shame, not knowing exactly why you felt that way admitting you weren’t good at something.

“We all are struggling,” he said like it wasn’t a big deal, pointing to his Transfiguration book. “Some of us on simple things, I see,” he commented after he took a sight at the books you chose and the big title you wrote on the parchment.

“Then maybe we could help each other,” you proposed, smiling at him in a friendly nature. He didn’t seem to understand your idea, given the frowned brows and half eyes that were starring at you. “I’m good at Transfiguration, the best if we’re to follow McGonagall’s words, so I could help you if you help me with my Potions essay.”

He took a moment to think, looking back and forward to your books and his, to your parchments and his – yours were filled with paragraphs and his were decorated with meaningless drawings. “I only need some notes, it’s not fair to do your whole essay in exchange of some stupid phrases,” he said like you were trying to fool him.

You chuckled and leaned back on your chair. “Yeah, nothing’s free,” you smiled, “Ok, then I’ll write your notes and you’ll write me the main ideas – after that I’ll write it on my own.” He stayed thoughtful and quiet, looking at your face; you tried hard not to run your fingers to your cheek, searching for dirt or anything that had him starring. “Deal?” you asked.

He held out his hand in your direction. “Deal,” was his only response, waiting for you to conclude the pact. And you did – you gently shook his hand, the skin of his palm feeling smooth against your own, like he was using lots of lotion every night before going to bed. But it was a nice feeling, which led a wave of warmth all over your body along with a good premonition about how he’d do your homework and him, in general.

The two of you switched your belongings, the only item that wasn’t switch being the quills – he was holding his like it was the biggest treasure he ever had; and maybe it was, you thought. Maybe it had an emotional story and he wanted to keep the quill only because of the memories it hold, but maybe he was only careful with what belonged to him. You never really had anyone to help you with your work – when you were a child your parents encouraged you to keep on trying by yourself in order to succeed, and you grew up avoiding other’s help, only to prove them that you could do it alone. After a while, in your third year of Hogwarts, you wanted to be helped, but it seemed like your older housemates were too busy and the ones your age were looking for you to help them. So, to be in the library on a Friday afternoon, helped by a boy you never crossed paths with before seemed like a new – and somehow exciting – experience. It was nice to write on the parchments which had their edges and corners filled with something that seemed to be flowers or some kind of plant with curled leaves. You often asked him questions about what you should or shouldn’t write, and depending on his answer you’d write down more explicit notes, as he kept on commenting how many useless things you’ve wrote in your essay by far – but he was funny, telling you that you should give Snape the essay the way it is so maybe you all could be lucky and get rid of the sulky teacher sooner than expected.

After some time, they boy looked at the silver watch on his left wrist and put down the quill. “My study time’s over,” he announced and you also put down the writing instrument, handing him the papers you tried to write as eligible as you could. “That’s all?” he asked and scoffed.

“Actually, I have more things to add, but…” You tried to say, but he already began to gather his things, closing the Transfiguration book and folding the parchments. “We could meet tomorrow, or Sunday,” you proposed and also got up when he did. You tried to make eye contact with him one more time, not paying that much attention to the height difference between you two.

“Again?” he spoke, fulfilling your wish. His eyes were mesmerizing – such a light blue, reminding you of a sunny sky.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want – it would be beneficial for both of us to finish what we started.”

And he thought that way too, because the next day he was already in the same spot of the library, all by himself, trying to decipher the entangled letter you wrote the other day. “Maybe Snape doesn’t like you because of your handwriting,” he said when you sat down, making you smile and chuckle – an action that caused him to have a little smile in the corner of his lips, too. And those smiles continued to grow on your faces, because besides the theoretical information you two changed, there were also a little funny comment slipped through the conversation.

“See you tomorrow?” you asked while gathering your things, because that time you were the one who needed to leave earlier.

“I can’t,” he simply said. “I have to study.”

“Isn’t that the reason we met here today?” you laughed, “To study together?”

“No, we met today to finish our deal – which is pretty much done,” he explained in a plain voice, pointing to the pages in your hand. The structure of the essay was done; you only needed to put it all together and his Transfiguration notes were enough for him to understand better the subject.

“Oh,” you said in a whisper. “Yeah, right, thank you…” you smiled to him, whishing that he’d realize that you two never introduced each other properly, but he only returned the smile in a polite way.

“You’re welcome,” was all he said and went back to his book, trying to put head to head the theory you made and the information from the book.

That Saturday you left the library with a strange feeling of loneliness – he was a stranger, but he helped you concentrate and also helped you with something that – maybe – was the most important opportunity for you to shut Snape’s mouth. That day flew by without you even realizing, but at night you found yourself thinking about the boy who tapped his fingers on the wooden surface anytime he’d search for the right words but couldn’t stand a strange breathing near him, and a pair of iced eyes was present in your dreams, doing nothing more than watching you with all the possible emotions mirroring in them.

“How was your weekend by far, Hermione?” you asked the girl only to break the strange silence between you two. She was looking for a specific book, and it happened to bump into her when you came to the library to continue your work.

It was a few hours after lunch, on a sunny Sunday when most of the students preferred to study or to simply hang out in the courtyards, lying on the grass. It wasn’t very weird that you had to deal with all those stares when you went to the library on such a beautiful day. You weren’t a bookworm or a nerd, but it was a special thing and you really wanted to have it all done by the end of Monday at least, so you wouldn’t be loaded with other things.

“It was… acceptable,” she responded and shrugged, going back to look for that book on the selves. “As acceptable as it could be a weekend spend in the company of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley,” she continued and you laughed. She was the brain of that trio, and it might be stressful to be their friend – but you were pretty sure it wasn’t that horrible since she stayed by their side for so long. “What about you?” she returned the question, giving up on her searching as she couldn’t find the right book.

Hermione followed you to your usual table, situated in a corner of the room, where the rays of sun came through the wide window and lighted all the pages. You sat down, leaving aside the parchments for some moments of chatting with your friend. “It was… fun,” you smiled, “I was here two days in a row doing homework.”

Hermione laughed while flipping the pages gently. “And Ronald says I’m the one who needs to sort out her priorities.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes, “It was fun because I had a study buddy. It was really nice,” the explanation made the girl leave her book and watch you with sudden interest. You knew Hermione wasn’t the type who gossip, so her attention was pure curiosity.

“Who?”

“I don’t really know,” you sighed, a little disappointment in your voice as you looked at your fingers, which were unconsciously tapping on the table. “We never made a proper introduction.”

The Gryffindor girl played with the zipper of her hoodie, looking like he was trying to remember all the persons who ever entered that room. “How was he looking?”

Handsome was the first word you wanted to say, as a joke, but a discarded book landed on your table, right on top of your papers and made you looks at the person whose shadow was covering your face.

“What is she doing at our spot?”

“Malfoy,” Hermione growled with hatred, “I don’t think your father bought the tables in the entire library, too,” she said and made the boy look at her with as much venom as a snake could carry.

So he was Malfoy – the mean boy Hermione would mention from time to time, the one who’d always have a harsh word to tell Ron and the one who despised The Chosen One so much. Your timetable never interfered with their, and you’d usually spend your weekends and breaks with some classmates you were friends with, so you never really crossed path with that Malfoy boy. You knew about him, but you didn’t know him – not until then.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Mudblood; learn to speak only when spoken to,” he said in a mockery tone, his eyes going back to you.

You looked at him, and then at Hermione, who seemed to search in you something you couldn’t actually find. “Well?” he repeated, but there was no response from you.

“What does he mean, Y/N? Your spot?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end.

“He’s… my study buddy,” you spoke and Malfoy raised his brow at the appellative, while Hermione froze.

“I’ll leave you with your study buddy, then,” she whispered to you and left, not before taking the book that was thrown on the table by the Slytherin boy.

Your hand was shaking when you grabbed the quill, going back to finish the essay that you started to properly write last night in your dormitory. “Yeah, take my scrap, you filthy Mudblood,” he commented and watched Hermione leave. He then sat down, in front of you, slightly pushing away from him the chair were your friend sat some seconds ago. “Don’t tell me she’s following you around like a little puppy,” he laughed and you looked at him in confusion.

“She’s my friend,” you simply said.

The confusion was now on Malfoy’s face. “Friend?” he scoffed.

“Don’t you have friends?”

“Plenty,” he responded quickly. “But my friends have my back when I’m in an argument.”

You shrugged and looked down again to your essay. “I’m a neutral person, I’m not picking sides,” you explained. He watched you write without any other interruption, but you were feeling weird to be aware of his presence in your perimeter and being as talkative as a fish. “What are you doing here?” you asked as you wrote your name at the bottom of the last paper. He quickly grabbed them all, smiling at your expression.

“I made some free time to come and read our final product.” He went back to be silent, his blue eyes running from left to right in order to read all the things you wrote more calligraphic, only thinking about his comment and about the nice letters he used to make the summary yesterday. “It’s good,” he said proudly, like it was his own.

“Really?” you asked shyly, not ready to have a criticism on that yet.

“Yes, I see you kept some of my phraseology,” he smiled in a kind way, returning the parchments to you.

“It was really well structured,” you laughed and ran a hand through your hair, blushing when you saw him starring intensely at your face – you really wanted to ask him if there was something on your face.

“It’s perfect, Y/N,” he repeated, “Snape can’t say otherwise. It’s nearly as good as mine are,” he assured you. His response made you laugh loudly, gaining some hissing from Madam Pince; your hands went to your mouth, covering it, and the boy looked at you with amusement.

“Thank you, Malfoy,” you whispered, scared to talk even in a quiet way. You knew how much the librarian hated the loud students, and you really didn’t want to be one of them. To be on her blacklist was something no one really wanted.

“Call me Draco,” he asked and got up. “I have to go, but I’m sure your work will be appreciated tomorrow.”

“It’s for Friday, actually.”

“So you had a week to do it, but you did it right away?” he laughed this time, but he seemed careless at Madam’s Pince hiss.

“What?” you pouted, already annoyed by his laugh. You knew what he was going to say, and it made you somehow ashamed.

“Nothing,” he said to your surprise, “It’s just that… I’ve never seen somebody to be that ambitious when it comes about school.”

“So you don’t make fun of me,” you thought out loud, making him chuckle again.

“Why would I make fun of you for being a determined person?” he asked and you returned his smile, more shyly, and waved him goodbye as you saw him walking away.

It was the last moment when you saw Draco Malfoy – Monday morning you looked for him in the Great Hall at breakfast, lunch, dinner and even after classes – but due to the large amount of students, he was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t put a foot in the library, because you stayed there awhile, doing your homework or reading – more like pretending to do any of those – but he never came. It was like he was swallowed by a big black hole and forgotten by all the people in Hogwarts. Nobody near you mentioned his name, and you didn’t dare to ask Hermione about him after the ‘study buddy’ situation. She said it was all fine between you two, because she knew about your neutral personality. It was simple: you never got into fights yourself or got involved when other people would argue – it was simple that way. You asked her if she was alright after Draco said all those things to her, of course, but when she told you it was alright you didn’t insisted more.

Friday came faster than you had thought and you were quite nervous to hand Snape your essay. All your classmates wished you good luck, even if they were in the exact same situation as you were – not quite the same, actually, because you were the only one asked to stay over class so the Potions Master could have a word with you.

“You wanted to talk to me, Professor?” you asked when the rest of the students left you all alone with Snape, who sat in the front of the class, hands crossed over his chest and a frowned look on his face.

“Obvious,” he spoke in his monotone voice, coming closer to your desk. “What is this, Miss L/N?” he asked, throwing in front of you the essay, all the pages spreading on the table.

“My essay, Sir,” you told him confident, already preparing your speech about how hard you worked on it and how he couldn’t say it was a piece of trash.

“Your essay?” he asked serious, and then he faked a laugh. “I think you mean Mister’s Malfoy essay,” he then handed you another parchment, with Draco’s name on it, neatly written.

You read a few phrases from his work, but there was nothing alike between them aside some expressions – the ones Draco observed you kept from his notes. “I didn’t steal his work, Sir,” you said in a quiet voice, not daring to look him in the eyes. You didn’t need to do that to know how mad he was.

“You didn’t steal it, you copied it.”

“No, I…” but he already made up his mind. He asked you to leave, informing you that you’d get more work to do, along with a week of detention.

Your blood was boiling and you only wanted to scream how much you hated everything: how much you hated Snape, for being a prick, how much you hated yourself, for not being able to do your own homework alone and how much you hated Draco, for ‘helping’ you and then disappearing – but he didn’t disappear, because he was in the end of the corridor, all by himself, his hands on his trousers’ pockets, standing in an elegant posture leaning on the wall. The dark always present on the Dungeons made him look paler that he seemed in the library’s sunrays, but the blue of his eyes was still remembering you of the clear sky in the moment he heard your steps.

“Y/N,” he greeted you from afar, a little smile growing on the corner of his lips. “How was…” but you didn’t give him the occasion to finish his sentence, leaving the dark corridor in a hurry.

It was odd that after a week of thinking only about him, about the blue of his eyes, about the way his voice would seem lighter when he was holding back his laugh, about the cute way he’d smile only a half of joy, you ran away from his presence like he was your worst nightmare when, in fact, he was present in your sweetest dreams.

It was your desire to be alone the one which made you isolate yourself in your room for some good hours, crying and hitting the pillows, throwing them in the walls and then gathering them, only to throw them again. You felt the way Snape’d describe your skills, work or everything you did: trash – you felt like trash. You thought about going to dinner with your housemates when you heard them leaving the Common Room, but you realized that Snape’s face, eating at the teachers’ table would’ve turned your stomach upside down. So you stayed there for another hour, thinking about everything and nothing in particular; you just knew that you were sick of it, sick of everything and you just needed a break.

And that’s what you did: you took a break. You left the dormitory only undressing yourself from the blue robes and went running on the empty corridors. When you left, you weren’t sure where you’d go – but you found yourself in the Astronomy Tower, watching the entire yard and the environs of the castle. The sky was painted in pastel colors, the sun bathing in the red color of the lake. It was beautiful and you wanted nothing than to be the same with all of it.

“I hate it all!” you screamed looking up to the sky, closing your eyes. “I hate Severus Snape!” you screamed again, opening your eyes and looking down. It was a long, long way to the bottom, where the cobbled paths would wait. “I hate that he managed to make me feel so useless,” now you whispered, tightening the metal balustrade between your palm until they became white. You shook the metal as hard as you could, but it stood still; the effort left you breathless, but you still managed to scream from the bottom of your lungs: “I hate myself!”

You had no idea where that came from – it was the first time you thought that way about you, but it felt very honest. You hated how much pressure you’ve put on your shoulders and now that you were too weak to carry it all, you felt worthless. The only thing you knew was that you were crying, so hard that your sobs didn’t let you hear the steps approaching you in such a hurry. The force of the hand that grabbed your elbow was unexpected, making you stumble on your own legs. The warm feeling immediately invaded your whole body as soon as you fell in a pair of arms, which were holding you hard enough not to fall to the ground.

“What the hell were you doing, Y/N?!” he screamed, the image of his face being blurred because of the tears in your eyes. You blinked a few times and there he was: Draco Malfoy, with a worried look on his face but with the same beautiful blue eyes.

“Draco…” you whispered and grabbed the material of his white shirt, “What are you doing here?” you managed to ask without your voice cracking.

“You didn’t come to dinner, and after the way you walk away from earlier…” he said and became paler, “But what were you doing? Don’t tell me you tried to…”

But you shook your head in negation faster than the words he said. “No, of course not,” you said trying to convince yourself more than him. “I was just… having a moment,” you explained and withdrew from his arms, hugging yourself to calm down.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asked again and touched your shoulders, his hands burning the skin under your uniform shirt.

“Snape said I copied your essay,” you succeed to whisper after a long silence, the tears coming back into your eyes.

His brows went lower, his mouth in a line. “Have you told him that I helped you?”

“No,” you said, now crying again. He wiped away a tear that rolled on your cheek. “He told me to leave before I could say anything, and now I have detention a whole week.”

“Sh, sh, sh,” he hummed as he pulled you back into his arms, one of his hands laying on your back as the other one was caressing your hair. “You don’t need to cry,” he spoke gently and his movements became clumsy as you cried even harder. “I’ll take care of it, Y/N,” he assured you and suddenly, your tears dried up.

“What?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“I… I’ll talk to Snape about it,” he repeated, “It’s not fair to act that way towards you when your essay was so good.”

All the parts of your body were screaming to kiss him only because he was that near to you. But you were too puzzled up to even hear those screams in your head. “You’ll get in trouble too, Draco.”

“No,” he smiled. “Let’s say that Snape owns my father one,” he smiled devilish, and contrary his expectations you smiled like you haven’t been crying until then.

“But why are you doing that?” you laughed and tried not to freak out because he was still holding you.

“So you could own me one later,” he continued to smile even after you hit them slightly in chest. “What? Nothing’s free, remember?”

You bit your cheek, trying to hold back a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“So we have a deal?”

“No,” you said and raised a brow. “We have a deal only if you don’t get yourself in trouble by talking to Snape or, even worst, getting me into a bigger mess. You need to succeed in order to have a deal.”

“That sounds like a deal to me,” he smirked and ran a hand through his blonde hair, which seemed more like gray in the light given by the moon.

“We have a deal, then,” you laughed and tighten up a bit the grip on his shirt.

“Don’t ever stay that close to the edge again,” he asked you and you could see the same feeling of anxiety on his face. You nodded your head in agreement and he hugged you again. “You scared the shit out of me,” he confessed.

It was the first time in your life when you felt that somebody was truly worried about you. Your parents would’ve just watch you break down and then get up and try again, telling you that it’s the normal way to educate yourself. But that night, in his arms, you felt that you weren’t the same lonely child. It was a warm feeling, a feeling of a new burning in your heart. And it was a nice feeling.

  I fell in your arms tonight / I fell hard in your arms tonight / It was nice

 You agreed to meet Draco the next day in the Astronomy Tower half an hour before the dinner would finish and you were surprised to see him already there, welcoming you with the same somehow evil smirk he had the other day.

“You own me one,” he said without even waiting for you to say something. “Snape told me he’ll forget about the detention, but you need to make some rephrasing on your essay.” He was proud of his manipulative skills and you could see it in his eyes – there was a little sparkle as you approached him.

“Good job, Draco,” you said smiling from an ear to the other. “I guess I own you one.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

You look over the skyline and went closer to the balustrade, Draco following you closely even after you sat down on the stone floor, your legs hanging on the outside. You seemed to be secure enough, so Draco sat down and looked at the sunset as well.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did,” he puffed and you punched his shoulder, smiling.

“You’re an idiot, you know what I mean.”

“Why am I an idiot?” he asked and turned to face you with an ugly look.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” you told him quickly. “I call my friends that way when they say something dumb but they’re funny at the same time,” you explained, ashamed that you offended him.

He was silent for a moment and looked at the lake again. “My father uses that term to talk about incompetent people,” he said and you looked away from his face.

“I guess it’s a way to use it, too,” you spoke shy.

“Why do you want to ask me?” he changed the subject, removing the awkward tension between you two.

“Why did you called Hermione Granger that word?” you asked cautious not to upset him with your curiosity.

“That’s what she is,” he said nonchalantly, “She’s a Mudblood, and she is inferior to us.”

“Only because of her blood?” you laughed. “And how do you know I’m not inferior to you too?”

“I made my research on you before talking to you again,” he shrugged.

“She’s superior to both of us in many ways, Draco,” you told him and looked at him in the moment he did the same. “She lives in another world at the same time she lives in this one,” you explained, “We were born surrounded by magic and that’s our only way of living.”

He lour. “Why do you say that?”

“I take the Muggle Studies class,” you smiled proudly.

“Why would you do that?” he scoffed. If you ignored his mentality on that subject, you could say he was really cute.

“It’s interesting,” you started. “They have many objects we have no idea about and they have fairy tales about anything – they’re kind of superstitious.”

“Superstitious?” he asked like he was curious and not like he wanted to mock you.

“Yeah,” you said and got up. “Maybe I’ll tell you about some superstitions one day.”

“Tomorrow night,” he asked you and got up as well.

“You want to know more about Muggles?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “It’s your chance to prove me they’re not inferior to us.”

“Ok,” you smiled and took the challenge.

You left the Tower walking by his side, and your heart skipped a beat when you realized that he walked you to your Common Room door, wishing you a goodnight. The next day Professor Snape wanted to talk to you again after class, this time apologizing for the way he managed the situation, but you could tell he wasn’t very pleased with what he was saying. When the dinner was nearly finished, you could see Draco leaving the Great Hall without looking in your direction and you knew it was the signal to get up and do the same thing after some minutes. You thought it’d be better if nobody would know where you were going and with who.

“Ready to learn about Muggles?” you asked him with joy as soon as you got in the highest place in Hogwarts.

“Whatever,” he laughed and rolled his eyes.

You brought a book you got last year on your birthday from Hermione, a book about a lot of things the Muggles believe in. You read out loud some pages and Draco only sat next to you, listening. It was somehow therapeutic to read in front of him because he didn’t disturb you, he even looked like he was enjoying it.

“So they even have a specific flower for when somebody dies?” he asked out of a sudden. He was really paying attention.

“Yeah, in some countries,” you smiled. “In Italy, France or Belgium – where it’s made the best chocolate – the white chrysanthemum is well known to be brought at somebody’s funeral. But they also represent loyalty and devoted love, so I think it makes it even more beautiful. They’re my favorites,” you smiled.

“A flower that represents the death is your favorite?” he laughed, making you roll your eyes. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ve never seen a chrysanthemum, and that’s something, considering the fact that my mother has a gigantic garden.”

He was often talking about his mother and you deducted that he’s a mummy boy – it was cute to know that he loved his mother dearly.

“I would love to see it,” you smiled politely.

“Maybe you will,” he said and caught you by surprise. “I mean, maybe you’ll see a garden as big as my mother’s,” he clarified when he observed those big eyes of yours.

“Yeah,” you said in a quiet voice, looking back into your book.

“What?” he asked and you didn’t respond him.

You were… sad? Disappointed? It was a strange and groundless feeling given by the idea that you’ll never see the garden of his house, and that also meant that you’ll never meet his mother, who was already painted in your mind like an elegant and kind woman.

“Are you upset?” he asked again and grabbed your jaw carefully, making you form eye contact.

“No,” you said simply, and the honesty in your voice surprised you. It was like all the hard feelings were erased by his eyes, by their calming color.

“Good,” he smiled, “Because you shouldn’t be upset.”

“Why?” you asked.

“I’ll bring you all the flowers from my mother’s garden if you’re not upset,” he traced his fingers up to your cheek, placing a strand of hair behind your red ear – all your emotions ran to your head, making the skin he touched burn.

“Why?” you asked again like a curious kid.

He rolled his eyes in a playful way, trying to pretend he was tired of your whys. “Because a pretty face like yours shouldn’t frown. You’ll get wrinkles,” he laughed and pinched your nose.

“Auch,” you hissed, massaging the end of your nose. “You say I’m pretty?”

“I say it’s time to get you back to your Common Room,” he nodded his head and got up, offering you his hand to help you get up.

The walk to the Ravenclaw’s door was silent, and when you got there it was an even more annoying silence. He only watched you like he was waiting for your next move.

“Uh, I can’t come tomorrow night,” you informed him. “I have to help my roommate study for Transfiguration.”

“So she’s stealing my study buddy,” he joked.

“I’ll see you around, though?”

“Yeah, of course,” he smiled and you just wanted to kiss that little dimple of his.

So you did – you got up to your toes and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Draco,” you smiled and entered the empty room, all your housemates already being off to their dormitories, probably. Your heart was pouting hard, like it was trying to escape the little cage of your ribs, but your soul was feeling warm and sweet, like honey.

The next day you tried to focus in all your classes, you tried to pay attention to your friends but all you could think of was Draco Malfoy, with his blue eyes and sweet dimple. It was a boring night the one you spent in your room, listening and explaining to your roommate simple things about your Transfiguration class, the same ones that Draco found difficult – even that made you think about him. It was a great relief to walk again on the stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, the excitement making your heart jump with joy. It dropped to the bottom of your soul when you didn’t find him there, and it broke when he didn’t come at all.

Maybe you scared him – maybe he didn’t want you to kiss his cheek, maybe he didn’t want you so close to him. Maybe you screwed it up. And you really believed that when he didn’t come two nights in a row, making you to skip dinner on the third night. You didn’t have the power to cry again, but you really wanted to – you nearly managed to get a tear out of you if it wouldn’t be eagle owl which entered your room through the open window.

“What’s up with you, stupid bird?” you asked in anger, making the owl give you a response in the same tonality. “Easy,” you spoke as you took the little parchment from its claw.

‘You didn’t come to dinner, are you sick? If you are, take a good sleep and get better. — D.M'

You crumbled the little letter and thrown it away telling the bird to leave you alone. You walked from left to right, biting your nails out of anxiety and anger – who was he to ignore you three days and then ask to meet you? You grabbed the letter from the floor and read it again, and the curiosity won against your anger. You grabbed a blue sweater and ran to the Astronomy Tower, but walked the steps so he wouldn’t know the speed with which you came. You were furious at him – you couldn’t wait to scream at him and tell him to fuck off with his unhealthy behaviors, but when you saw him leaning on the stone wall in front of you with a bouquet of white flowers in his hand and a small box on the other one, you just froze on the last step.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted you with a smile on the corner of his lips. You approached him slowly; your eyes going from his face go his hands and back to his hands. “I see you’re not sick,” he said when you were in front of him. “Why haven’t you come to dinner?”

“Why didn’t you give me a sign of living?” you asked straight, searching for his eyes.

“I was… busy,” he said and cleared his throat. “But I asked my mother to get me those,” he smiled and handed you the bouquet of chrysanthemums and the little box. “Open it,” he asked impatient.

You undone the little bow and opened it with one hand, the other holding carefully the flowers. Your hands were shaking. “Chocolate,” you laughed nervous.

“From Belgium, just like the flowers,” he said proud, smiling. “Don’t you like them?” he asked a little panicked when you didn’t say a thing, only watching the flowers in such an examining way.

“I love them!” you said, “I love them, Draco,” you assured them, holding them to your chest like you were scared he’d get them back.

“Good, I hoped you’d say that.”

You smelt them, and your whole soul was dancing – the sweet smell reminded you of the late autumn’s rains, of the lazy sunrays and all the nice skies in the world.

“I love them Draco, but what’s the occasion?”

He massaged the back of his head, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t need a reason to get flowers, Y/N. You deserve them anytime,” he said and your heart exploded at his cuteness. “My mother told me it’d be nice if I would give them to you before anything else,” he said and bite his lower lip immediately after, like he said something he didn’t mean to.

“Before what, Draco?” you asked curious. He was so good at making you all set on fire, unfocused and yet so, so concentrated on him.

“You’re a nice girl, Y/N, really nice,” he said in a quiet voice. His tonality made you thought about a break-up – like he wanted to break the bond that began to form between you two.

“What are you trying to tell me, Draco?” you asked in a harsh tone. “Just say it, ok? You don’t need to bring me flowers and chocolate if you want to say goodbye, it’s not like I’m dying,” you said pointing to the chrysanthemums.

“No, no, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “The white chrysanthemums represent loyalty and devoted love,” he whispered.

“Oh,” was all you could say. “Oh,” you repeated when you figured out what he really meant.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, and you laughed along with him. The sound of his laugh made your heart put itself back together. “So…” he started and came closer to you.

“So?” you said, biting your lips and blinking slowly.

“So may I kiss you, Y/N?” he asked in such a kind voice, all your body going soft at his words. His mother must’ve taught him how to talk to a girl – and she did such a good job.

You nodded shyly and let yourself carried by his hands, which dragged your body closer to his. He gently pressed his lips on your, letting them stay together for a couple of seconds and then retiring. His blue eyes were looking into yours, burning with desire and impatience. Your hands tightened the flowers and the little box harder, and you put them around his neck, getting him even closer to you and smashing your lips back together. His hands were on your waist, grabbing the material of your sweater between his fingers. Your eyes were closed and your body was filled with warmth – you saw nothing and yet, somehow, you were aware of everything in the Universe through a white light.

 White light in your arms tonight / I lost sight in your arms tonight / It was nice

 The next months were full of love and laughs for you – Draco was the most careful boy you’ve ever been with. He still wanted you two to have secret little dates in the Astronomy Tower, where you’d read to him about Muggles and poetry written by them.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute that I listen to you reading about that non-sense?” he asked once.

“It’s poetry, Draco,” you scoffed, “It’s about love!”

Besides the secret dates, he really wanted to go public. He was the type to show you off in front of everyone, only to make sure that every other boys knew that you were off their league but in a kind way – he’d kiss your forehead on the hallways, walk you to classes even if that meant he’d be late to his and gave you endless gifts. You received a lot of chrysanthemums, love letters and sweets anytime his mother would send him a package. Your roommates were jealous of you even if they told you directly that they didn’t like Draco and there was nothing to do about it. Hermione wasn’t so happy either and somehow distanced herself from you when she found out about your relationship, but Draco made you to forget all those things – he was the bad guy in everyone’s story, and even if some time ago he wasn’t even a side-character in yours, he became the climax of your story. You didn’t love Draco for his gift, you loved him truly – you loved him for the kind words, the warm glares, the sweet kisses and the tight hugs. And you knew he loved you too, because he made you feel safe in the whole madness with the Dark Lord and the war everyone was talking about.

“Do you think there’ll be a war, Draco?” you asked one night when you two where curled up into each other’s arms.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said absent.

“I heard that Harry’s forming an army,” you said and looked up to him, only to see him rolling his eyes.

“Potter isn’t capable to tie his own laces, my love, and you think he’s able to lead an army?” he laughed and that made you roll your eyes. “You’re funny.”

“But you’re the only one taking it as a joke, you’re the one who’s laughing,” you said and he frowned.

“Then I think I have to change that,” he said and his fingers came to your ribs, tickling you.

You started to laugh hard, to fight so you could escape his torture, begging him to stop. “Draco, that’s enough!” you screamed as you felt tears in your eyes, so you grabbed his arm and tried to scratch him playfully to make him stop.

Hissing, he let you go and pulled away from you, his hand over the left arm.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you asked worried that you hurt him.

“Nothing,” he said in an annoyed voice, getting up on his feet and looking down to you. “I’m fine,” he said and something in your mind clicked. For more than two weeks he’d say that stupid phrase whenever you asked him what happened – he seemed tired and anxious, but whenever you’d ask about him he’d become fine.

“Don’t try to fool me, Draco,” you said annoyed as well and, already on your feet, you’d try to grab his hand and reveal the possible wound.

“I said I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated and avoided your hands like they’d burn him.

“And I said to stop fooling me!” you shouted and sneaked close enough to him to get his hand away from his arm, but he pushed you harder than he thought – you fell on the ground, a piece of material in your hand; his sleeve – ripped, revealing red lines, scratches – who were older, but reopened by your nails – which were covering the worst thing you could think of: the Dark Mark. The air left your lungs and your head started to spin, the vision becoming blurred.

“Y/N…” he tried to say, coming closer to you but you crawled away.

“What the fuck, Draco?!” you screamed and got up by yourself. “Stay away!” you said when he tried to approach you.

“I can explain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking.

“How on earth you could explain the Dark Mark on your arm?” you shouted again, your hands running in your hair and pulling it.

“Sh,” he said loud, asking you to be quiet. “It’s not what it looks like, my love, I swear.”

You laughed – loud, nervous. “Then what it is?”

“They made me do it, Y/N!”

“They made you get the Dark Mark, become a fucking Death Eater and join Voldemort?” you screamed again and step back when he tried to come closer.

“My father, he… I didn’t want to, Y/N,” he said quietly, his eyes starting to get wet.

“You lied to me, Draco,” you whispered. “You said everything will be fine, you said you’ll protect me!”

“And I will!” he also screamed. “I will,” he repeated breathing heavily.

“How? Making me join the Death Eaters so they wouldn’t kill me later?” you mocked him, and you could say it hurt him to see you that way – but you didn’t care.

“Nobody will kill you, Y/N,” he said, trying to calm you. “You’ll be fine, we’ll be fine.”

“A war is coming, Draco,” you said harshly, “The Dark Lord is alive and back and anyone who’s against him is in danger.”

“You’re not in danger, Y/N,” he repeated. “We’re in this together, please, love,” he begged you, tears running down his face.

“We’re not on the same side, Draco,” you whispered.

“I thought you didn’t like to pick sides,” he said like he was trying to make you change your mind.

“We’re talking about a war, Draco, not a fucking fight in the courtyard,” you said and shook your head. “Just… leave me alone, please,” you asked him and started to walk away.

“Y/N, please!” he grabbed your wrist but you pulled away immediately.

“Don’t touch me ever again, Draco Malfoy,” you said in hatred, giving him a disgusted look before leaving him alone in the Astronomy Tower – alone, hurt and crying. He saw the disgust in your eyes, the hate and the fear.

Hard times came for you – you decided to act like nothing was happening, like you had no idea what Draco was and a part of you felt miserable for doing so, but other part was believing him, the other part was still loving him and it was hurting to see him and not run in his arms. You decided to let the time pass and decide what would happen with everything – but the time was cruel, because nothing good happened since that night. Dumbledore’s death, the Death Eaters, the continuing agony. You became scared to stay alone, thinking that a Death Eater or even Voldemort would show up and kill you – and Draco wouldn’t be there to protect you.

But when the real battle began, you felt all the adrenaline rushing through your body – Professor McGonagall seemed worried but she gave you the power to fight back, to fight for Hogwarts, for your friends, for Harry, for life. You never tried to spell hexes because it wasn’t necessary, but in the battles you had with some Death Eaters you remembered them all – and you casted them loud, pointing your wand in their direction with hatred. You were running on the same old stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, a loud and crazy laugh following you along with a curly hair and dark, mad eyes, thirsty for blood.

“Stop running, little doll!” she screamed when you got up, waiting for her with your wand ready, something that made her laugh. “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” she asked and walked closer to you with tangled steps.

“Crazy one, aren’t you?” you managed to gather your nerve to ask her. She didn’t seem too happy with your comment, because she lifted her wand – before she’d say anything, you screamed the Disarming Charm as loud as you could, making her wand fly from her hand and fall to the ground.

“Well, well,” she laughed, running her tongue over her bloody lips. “You won, now kill me!” she laughed, the sound driving you crazy.

“Shut up! Just shut up!”

“Kill me!”

“Crucio!” you screamed and the green light flashed from the tip of your wand, hitting Bellatrix Lestrange in the middle of her chest. She fell to the ground, laughing – it was hurting, but Bellatrix have been insane for a long, long time.

“Y/N!”

“Draco?” you said to yourself, watching the boy you loved running to you. He grabbed your shoulders, looking at you from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you alright? Did she hurt you?”

You looked at Bellatrix who was still to the ground, and you tighten your fingers around the wand.

“No,” you said and looked back to Draco. He seemed fine and a part of you wanted to scream that he was fine because he was one of them, they wouldn’t hurt him like that crazy woman tried to do to you, but the other part won that battle. You hugged him tight, wanting to make all the things disappear and be just you and him. “I’m scared, Draco,” you whispered.

“You’ll be fine, love,” he said and kissed your temple.

“So she’s the little doll that got you all soft, Draco?”

The fear ran through your body again and you pulled away from Draco, still holding his hands.

“Please,” he said and looked at the crazy woman who got her wand back. He let go of your hand and grabbed his wand, pointing it to her.

“Aw, Draco darling,” she laughed, “Does Cissy know that you’re pointing your want to your family?”Family?

“Aunt Bella, please, don’t hurt her,” Draco breathed heavily, not taking his eyes off of her.

“But she hurt me, Draco,” Bellatrix laughed, got her wand in your direction and casted an unspoken spell, only saying your name.

Draco tried to protect you, getting in front of you, but the purple light went through him and entered your body. The pain was indescribable, like all your internal organs were stabbed with hundred of knives. “No!” he screamed at his aunt, who only laughed louder and waved him goodbye before disappearing into a black cloud of smoke.

You’d feel your members go numb, dropping your wand and falling to the ground, making Draco to scream again like he could physically feel your agony. “Y/N!” he screamed.

Some balls of light were thrown in the tower’s direction, by the people outside, and they made the windows in the roof break, falling upon you along with pieces of tiles. Your sight went blurry, seeing Draco through red spots. “What’s happening, Draco?” you managed to ask him.

“You’re fine, my love,” he cried, tightening your shoulders, trying to hug you without hurting you.

“I can’t see you, hear you,” you cried and coughed; he started to sob even harder, watching the blood drop from your eyes and mouth as you tried to breathe. “I don’t feel very good,” you told him as it weren’t obvious.

“You’ll be alright, my love, stay with me,” he begged you.

His tears were falling on your face, mixing with the blood that was leaving your body – Bellatrix Lestrange chose a curse that gave you a slow and painful death.

“Hey, you,” you said, trying to make him pay attention to you. You looked him in the eyes, trying hard to see them clear. “Don’t you think it’s kinda cute?”

“What?” he whispered.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute,” you repeated, “That I died right inside your arms tonight?”

“No! No! No!” he said, his voice shaking. “Don’t you dare to do this to me, Y/N! Do you hear me? Stay with me!”

But you were gone – you left that world with a little smile on your lips, with bloody tears on your face and with the memory of his eyes watching you, of his arms holding you. And that made death a less painful thing for you.

 That I'm fine even after I have died / Because it was in your arms I died

 “No, Y/N!” he screamed, realizing you were gone. “Come back! Come back, Y/N, you own me one!”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you whispered while watching him from behind – you could also see your lifeless body, laying on the ground with glass pieces, rocks and blood all over it and it made  you cry. You floated over your body and tried the stupidest thing you could think of: going back inside. But it was impossible – it felt like it was locked. Bloody tears were falling from your eyes, and you damned Bellatrix Lestrange for giving you such an ugly death: you’ll cry blood for eternity on the Hogwarts’ halls as a ghost. “I want to come back, Draco!” you screamed at the same time when he asked you to come back.

 I cry in the afterlife / I cry hard because I have died / And you're alive / I try to escape the afterlife / I try hard to get back inside / Your arms tonight

 The battle was over: Lord Voldemort was now dead, Bellatrix Lestrange was dead along with other Death Eaters, but so were a lot of innocent people: now, some students would stay forever in the castle because they chose to remain behind; they, just like you, were too scared of death and chose an imitation of life. As a ghost, you didn’t really felt like showing to everyone; it hurt you enough to know they missed you, and to see their broken souls when they’d realize you’re trapped in this world as a ghost would be more painful than your death. You knew nothing about Draco for a long time – you stayed in the tower all the time, and you already knew that after some years, when the school would be rebuilt, the little kids would call you the ghost of the Astronomy Tower – that thought made you smile; maybe they’d call you Bloody Y/N, or Bloody Crybaby Y/N, or… whatever name would fit a blood-crying ghost. That’s how you spent many months – thinking, crying, whishing you’d have chose the death.

A loud cry woke you up one day – you looked over to the balustrade, where a tall figure was shaking while looking down, down all the way to the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said and you recognized him easily. “I’m so fucking sorry, my love,” he cried again and you approached him. On the ground, at his feet, was a bouquet of white chrysanthemums – they made your eyes tear up immediately.

“I promised you I’d protect you and I failed,” he whispered. “I hate myself since that day, my love,” he confessed.

To let him know about your presence was a bad idea – he’d be devastated to see you that way.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he spoke to himself, or so he thought because he jumped in surprise when you screamed.

“Wait!”

“Y/N…” he cried, now facing you and crying harder. “You’re… alive?”

“Draco…” you sighed, “What are you doing here?”

He came closer and tried to hug you, but his arms went through you with ease. “You’re… a ghost.”

“Please don’t jump,” you said crying harder than him. It was a horrible image, indeed, to see a blood-crying ghost – but he was in love with you.

“I miss you, Y/N, I want to be with you,” he told you like he asked for permission.

But you shook your head in disapproval. “You won’t like it here, darling,” you smiled. “Please, stay – be happy and live.”

“I love you, Y/N, how could I live without you?” he cried like a little child, helpless.

You pointed to the flowers. “If your love is devoted, you’d spend the rest of your life fulfilling my wish, Draco.”

“Y/N…”

“Stay alive, Draco. I’ll be here, always,” you promised and cried.

He ran his hands through his hair, his blue eyes crying you a river. When he calmed down, he bent over and grabbed the flowers, handing them to you. You cried in pain, but still tried to get them – and you where surprised when you could.

“Come back to me, Y/N,” he said and you tried your best to make his wish come true. You tried to hug him, to kiss his forehead – he could swear he felt your cold skin on his.

“I wish I could, my love,” you said and stayed in front of him, with the sign of his devoted love in your hand.

 And hey (hey), you (you), don't you think it's kinda cute / That I (I) try (try) to escape the afterlife / That I (I) try (try) to get back in your arms alive / That I died in your arms