#ive replied back a few times now and no one continued the conversation so why bother lol

[steddieas-shegoes]

For the requests: Steve has a good relationship with his parents & when they come back from wherever & someone (Nancy/Robin) tells them about the UD & his parents react by calling out every single adult involved. Maybe he got badly hurt, & they were called in & upon finding out they call out Joyce, Hop, Owens & Murray for the way no adult inthese kids lives had any clue about what their kids were going through. Nor were their parents given notice esp bc having underaged kids sign NDAs is not legal nor legally binfing (Maybe all the parents of the party kids are there and get all the info just like the Harrington's)

MY DARLING! LIGHT OF MY LIFE! HONESTLY this one hit different. You know how much I love making Steve suffer and when he has good parents, a lot of his suffering disappears. But it was nice to branch out a bit. Also finally some common sense! KIDS SHOULD NEVER BE SIGNING AN NDA THEMS THE FACTS! Steve's parents are here to fight for everyone so WELCOME TO THE CHAOS OF STEVE'S OVERPROTECTIVE LAWYER PARENTS! - Mickala ❤️

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Steve Harrington had managed to avoid the hospital for years. Not because he shouldn’t have gone, but because he refused to go.

But this time, he was unconscious, which means he didn’t have a choice.

And now, staring at his parents’ shocked and appalled faces next to his bed, he realized he wished he’d just died, actually.

“This happens…often?” Anne Harrington asked Dr. Owens, who looked like he wished he was also dead.

“It does happen more often than we like. But it appears to be fixed now! Steven has been a wonderful asset to us, which is why we want to make sure he is comfortable and all his medical expenses are paid.”

He handled that well, Steve thought.

“And this is the first time anyone has bothered to call us?” Richard Harrington asked much too quietly.

That was his ‘I’m about to lose my shit’ voice and Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

“I do apologize, we had to deal with enough NDAs as it is,” Dr. Owens replied, not realizing that he was speaking to two lawyers who were about to ruin his life.

Steve let his head rest against the pillow of the hospital bed, sighing.

“At what age did Steve sign his first NDA?”

“I believe he was 16.”

“And did he have a lawyer present?” Anne didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “I can tell you he didn’t. We’re his lawyers and we were not even called. Are you the one in charge of this shitshow?”

It wasn’t often Anne Harrington said a curse word. Steve only ever heard it a handful of times, usually after hanging up with a client who would lose their case.

“I am one of the people who is tasked with this, yes. But if you don’t mind, I need to check in with a few people before I can truly devote time to this conversation.”

“Oh, please. Continue on with your day. Don’t mind us sitting next to our son in the hospital.”

Dr. Owens sighed, knowing this fight was barely even starting, and left the room.

Steve’s parents turned to him.

“How many concussions have you had?”

“Why didn’t you call us?”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Will this happen again?”

The questions were too much, and Steve’s head was pounding. He couldn’t do this right now.

“Hopper.”

“Jim Hopper? I thought he died.”

Admittedly, his parents had been out of town for a while. They didn’t know Hopper was back as of a few months ago, and probably didn’t realize he’d taken over as chief again.

“He didn’t. He’s around here somewhere.”

“He knew about all this?”

“Mom, I love you, but my head is splitting down the middle. I need to stop talking.”

Anne slowly brushed her hand through his hair, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Of course, honey. We’ll be back soon. Do not sign anything without us here, okay?”

“Okay.”

His dad briefly touched his shoulder before they both left the room.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

Until he was woken up by yelling.

Not just any yelling. Richard Harrington yelling.

If he wasn’t chained to the bed by an IV and blood transfusion bag, he would be up and in the hallway.

Apparently, he didn’t need to worry, though.

His mom came into the room, leaving the door open to the hallway so he could hear everything.

“I’m glad you’re awake, honey. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Who is he yelling at?”

“Every adult who didn’t bother to take care of you the way they should. Not just you, but all of these kids,” she said, tone more annoyed by the second.

“I don’t understand.”

“Honey, you’ve been protecting these kids in ways you never should have had to. All these adults who were involved never told any of us what was going on. They let you keep standing in the line of fire, getting hurt, seeing things you shouldn’t have to and never even bothered to call us. You signed NDAs with the government without parents or lawyers present. That alone is illegal, do you understand that?”

“So I’m in trouble?”

“Oh, honey, no. You’re not in trouble. Your dad’s having a few words with the chief and Dr. Owens.”

Steve tuned in to what was being said in the hall.

“I cannot fathom what you’ve done. Expecting these children to save this town, the world, and not even have their own parents know? Who are they supposed to turn to? You? And what have you done to help them? As far as I’m concerned, you should be arrested and imprisoned. If I have anything to say about it, you will!”

“Mom, can you please get him to stop? I know he’s upset, but Hop really protected us a lot, okay? And Dr. Owens was just doing his job.”

“A lot of people have just been doing their jobs instead of considering that maybe children shouldn’t be responsible for defeating actual monsters.”

Well. Yeah, she did have a point there.

“Where is everyone?”

Anne sat on the edge of his bed, holding his hand, running her thumb along the back of it.

“The Munson boy is in the room next door, he’ll be okay. Robin is home with her parents. Most of the kids are now with their parents, but that Sinclair boy is still being watched for concussion symptoms.”

Steve sighed with relief.

No one was lost. Everyone had pretty minor injuries. Maybe he was able to protect everyone.

“That Dustin boy is relentless,” Anne said with a smile. “He really looks up to you.”

“Yeah, he’s like a brother to me.”

“His mom didn’t know about any of this either, did she?”

Steve thought about it.

Honestly, she probably had some idea. Maybe not of the real details, but she had to know Dustin was involved in something he couldn’t talk about. Same with most of the parents.

But Steve’s parents were gone a lot. Their main office was in Boston, and they would often have to travel around the country for their clients. He was used to not seeing them, only getting to talk to them on the phone once or twice a week.

It’s easy to hide shit over the phone, and when they did manage to make it home, the Upside Down monsters were safely tucked away underground.

They had no way of knowing anything was wrong. He did it on purpose, just like all of the kids did.

Even without signing the NDAs, he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have told their parents.

“I think we just thought we were protecting you guys.”

“Honey, it’s not your job to protect us. It’s our job to protect you.”

She looked so sad.

Steve didn’t want her to be sad.

“Mom, you couldn’t have done anything. And we’re all safe.”

His dad walked in the room, face red. He closed the door behind him and ran his hand over his face.

“Doctor said Steve can go when the nurse comes to disconnect him from everything soon,” he said, coming to sit in the chair by his bed.

“That’s good news. We’ll get you home and settled. We canceled our flight out so we can stick around for a while and make sure you’re okay,” Anne said with a smile.

“You guys don’t have to cancel your trip. Your clients need you.”

“Not as much as you need us, son,” Richard said, giving him a soft smile.

“I’ve handled it before, though.”

“And you shouldn’t have. Trust me, this town, the government, they’ve got a shit storm coming and I’m leading it,” his dad huffed.

A knock interrupted Steve’s response, the door opening slightly before they answered.

Eddie.

“Steve? You okay?”

Steve’s parents looked at the door, then back at Steve, who was doing his best to hide the fond smile on his face.

It wasn’t working though, not when he saw the way Eddie was trying to take inventory of his injuries from across the room.

“You can come in, Eds.”

“Who’s this, honey?” Anne asked.

“This is Eddie.”

“Oh! You poor thing. I heard all about what you’ve been through. Let me just say, if we had caught wind of it earlier and knew you were Steve’s friend, we would’ve been representing you in court,” Anne rushed to say, her hands fluttering over Eddie’s when he got next to the bed.

Eddie’s wide eyes would have been amusing if Steve didn’t worry that he might run for the hills at the care his parents showed.

“Uh. Thank you?”

“Do you need anything right now? Do your parents need anything?” Richard asked, sitting forward in his chair, business face on.

“Um, just me and my uncle, but no. I’m heading home, but wanted to check on Steve before I go.”

“Of course! You guys are close friends?”

It was an innocent question. His parents just liked to know who was in his life, that’s all. But Eddie looked at him with panic written all over his face.

Steve gave him a small smile, then turned to his parents.

“Actually, he’s my boyfriend.”

They were quiet for a moment, which Steve expected. No matter how well he thought they’d take it, he knew it would be a shock.

But his parents didn’t let him down.

“How long have you been together, Steve?”

“Since March. Four months?” He watched as Eddie started to back away, probably expecting the worst.

Anne smacked Steve’s arm, forgetting for a moment that he was in the hospital for a reason.

“Sorry,” she said before crossing her arms. “You’ve had a boyfriend for four months and didn’t tell us? We could have come back and arranged dinner to meet him. I’m so sorry our son is rude, Eddie. He wasn’t raised that way, I assure you.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“Um. What’s happening right now?”

“We’ll be home for a while to make sure Steve is alright. We’d love to have you over for dinner soon. With your uncle if you’d like,” Richard added as Eddie just stared between them.

“What do you like? I just got a new cookbook that has so many European dishes I want to try. Are you a fan of Polish food? You know what, no, what about Greek? We haven’t had good Greek food in so long.”

Steve was laughing, he couldn’t help it.

“Steve, what the hell is going on here?”

“Eddie, that’s my mom, Anne, and my dad, Richard. They’re kind of the best, and apparently they want you and Wayne to come for dinner. Think you can find time in your schedule?”

“Uh.”

“Oh dear. Do you have a concussion? They should monitor you kids better,” Anne worried, moving her hands up to cup his cheeks and look in his eyes. “Should I get a nurse?”

“No, mom, he’s okay. He just expected you two to freak out.”

“About what?”

“The fact he’s a man.”

“Oh! I do suppose that’s a reasonable concern.”

“Eddie, let me ask you this: do you make Steve happy?” Richard asked.

“I think so.”

“And he makes you happy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then it sounds like we have no reason to be upset. Now, dinner? Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Okay.”

Steve laughed loudly.

“Eds, come here,” Steve gestured for him to come closer.

Eddie moved next to the bed, his arm bandaged, and a new cut with stitches in it on his forehead.

“Closer.”

Eddie leaned in.

Steve leaned up and kissed his lips. Just a quick peck, just enough to get the point across that this was really okay and really happening.

“Tomorrow at 6?” Steve asked before he pulled away completely.

Eddie nodded.

“And please bring your uncle, we need to discuss our plan for a lawsuit on behalf of all of you,” Richard spoke up from his chair.

“Oh. Yes, sir.” Eddie pulled away from the bed, nervously playing with his rings.

“Richard is fine, son.”

Eddie was blushing, which Steve was absolutely going to make fun of him for later.

“See you tomorrow, then?” Eddie asked awkwardly.

“Love you, Eds.”

“Oh. Uh. Yep. Love you too, Stevie.”

He raced out of the room, leaving Steve and Anne laughing quietly.

“Poor boy. Didn’t know what to do, did he?”

“No, I think he isn’t used to a positive reaction when people find out about him.”

“His uncle knows about you two, though, right?”

“Yeah, Wayne’s been great.”

“Good. Well, I’m going to find a nurse so we can go home. You should be comfortable in your own bed.”

“And I am going to make a quick call to my buddy in Chicago to see if he can pull some information on this Owens guy. We have a lot of work to do.”

Steve was used to this. For some kids, maybe this wasn’t good parenting. Maybe his parents being gone for a lot of his life had a negative impact.

But Steve never doubted how much they loved him. They still came home for every birthday, every Christmas. They still managed to take a family vacation every year. They gave him everything he needed and most of what he wanted. They supported him through everything, the proof right here in front of him now.

[alchemiclee]

do you ever feel like some people dont understand the difference between pity and sympathy/empathy? (people don't even know the difference between those two, to be fair) giving someone sympathy or having empathy for them is not the same as pitying them. someone trying to reach out and seeking or expecting sympathy from you or wanting empathy isn't wanting you to pity them!!!!!! dont mix the two up 😭

[sehunniepotwrites]

WITH YOU | MK.L | TWO

SYNOPSIS. There are many things Mark Lee wants to do with you. He wants to walk you home. He wants to dive into the deep blue sea with you. He wants to go on a drive with you at his side. But mostly, this crazy, head over heels in love boy just wants to make it with you.

PAIRING. mark lee x fem!reader

GENRE. college!au, friends-to-lovers!au, tooth-rotting fluff, humor WARNINGS. beach setting, profanity, mentions of food

WORD COUNT. 3.9k+

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters or concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. © sehunniepotwrites, 2022

I. WALK YOU HOME | II. DIVE INTO YOU | III. DRIVE | IV. MAKE IT WITH YOU

Three weeks before your summer break ended, you drove Mark’s car to your university’s athletic complex on an early Saturday morning.  As you made the turn onto the campus’ main road, the dashboard’s screen lit up with a familiar name. A simple button press allowed you to answer the call while your eyes remained on the empty street. It was a warm summer morning after all. No one else would even bother coming to campus unless they had work or summer school. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sunshine! You on your way to campus yet?” Mark’s bright voice filled your ears. You wanted to laugh. If anyone were pure sunshine, it would be Mark Lee and not you. If only the boy realized it himself. 

“Yeah, I’m only a few minutes away,” you replied as you stopped at the red light. Just as you finished that sentence, you saw a couple of charter buses drive past you as the other light turned green. You grinned, knowing that Mark and your other friends were finally home. “Hey, you just drove past me!”

The sounds of material shuffling around echoed through the speakers and you knew Mark made for the closest window to catch a glimpse of you in his car. “Oh shit, you weren’t kidding!”

“Would I ever let you down, Marky?” you laughed as green flashed before you. Feeling the wheel slip in between your fingers, you continued your way across campus and followed the path the buses took. 

“Actually, you—”

“Finish that sentence and I’m turning this car around,” you joked as you pulled into the lot where all the buses parked. As you drove closer, you saw all the athletes disembarking and gathering their belongings stored in the compartments. 

Every summer, your university required all student-athletes to attend a two-month-long training camp at a high-class sports facility. Your school wasn’t the only one in attendance, many others were invited as well. It was something every athlete looked forward to and dreaded at the same time. They loved being in their own bubble and meeting other teams to form a sort of friendly camaraderie but hated the long hours of training this camp asked of them. By the end of the month, they usually came back to school exhausted but in the best shape of their life. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and you could almost see him saluting you. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah, I’ll come and find you, I just have to park.”

“Don’t be so shocked when you see Marky, Squirt. He’s a whole-ass man now,” a voice other than Mark’s responded. Johnny Suh must’ve been his seatmate during the ride back. The outside hitter of the men’s volleyball team always found joy in butting into other people’s conversations. The tall guy could never keep to himself.

“Dude,” was the last thing you heard before the line went dead. 

Johnny’s sentence left you wondering what he meant. Why would you be shocked?

You found out soon after as you stood by buses, standing on your tippy toes to catch a glimpse of your best friend amongst the crowd of athletes. Johnny, being the tall giant he was, spotted you first. Your friend gave you a shit-eating grin as he exited the bus alongside Ten Lee, a member of the ice hockey team, and another friend of yours. It was funny how you were friends with so many athletes but did not carry one athletic bone in your body. 

“Hey there, Squirt,” Johnny teased as you approached him. God, if you had the skills and accuracy, you wanted to spike a volleyball right in his devilishly handsome face. 

“Shut up, you menace,” you said as you avoided his hand that aimed to ruffle your hair.

“Yo, Marky, I found her for you!” he yelled over his shoulder. Johnny bent down ever-so-slightly to whisper in your ear, “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?” 

“You’ll see, young one,” Ten chuckled, pressing a little kiss to your head before dragging Johnny to find their duffles and gear they brought with them during the course of the summer. 

And see you did as the athlete you didn’t recognize as Mark popped into view. You caught sight of him from afar but dismissed him because there was no way that man was your best friend. His shoulders were broader than you had last seen him. His chest and arms filled out the shirt he wore so well. As your eyes raked over his bigger build, you could not pinpoint that the shirt he wore was the very shirt you gifted him for his birthday last year.

When Mark first received the present, his lean build made the shirt appear fashionably oversized. It draped nicely over his shoulders and drowned the rest of his body in the softest fabric with a design that was so undeniably Mark you couldn’t resist buying it for him. His arms were thin compared to the large holes in his sleeves, he looked nothing but cute in the shirt.

But now, the design of the shirt was stretched out against the wide planes of his chest. A line appeared down the middle, drawing attention to his pecs, you could barely take your eyes away from the sight. The only things that caught your attention were the arms Mark frantically waved in your direction. Although not completely hugging his biceps, you could see his arms taking up more space in the sleeves. You couldn’t even bring yourself to blink when his flexed muscles hauled his hockey bag behind his back. 

And his face. Dear God, his face was even more chiseled than before, amplifying the good looks others would swoon over.

If someone were to ask you before Mark left for the summer, you would’ve called him your cute friend. If they asked you the same question now, at this very moment, you would say that Mark Lee was fucking hot. 

“You look different,” was all you could say as he approached you. A snort came from beside you. It was another athlete scouring through piles for their own gear. To him, you probably sounded like a lovestruck idiot. That was what you would call yourself at that moment anyway. 

Mark paused a few steps away from you, appalled at the first sentence you uttered to him since his return. “Like a good different? Or a bad different?” With the way his voice tilted up at the end of his second question, you could tell your friend (and crush) was beginning to pick at his new appearance.

Your eyes scanned his body again, appreciating the way his shirt was so deliciously filled in all the right places and how the curve of his butt still stood out in the soccer pants that hugged his toned legs. “No, uh, it’s a good different. Yeah, definitely—definitely a good different.” Since when were you the type to stutter? 

“Oh, good. Cool, yeah, I mean cool.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, um, Johnny took me under his wing while we hit the gym during camp and he showed me a couple of things I could do,” Mark chuckled shyly, “I’ve got a solid gym routine now.”

“I mean yeah, it’s really working for you.”

“Y-yeah, you think so?”

Before your brain could spit out your big fat crush on your best friend, you quickly changed the topic and flashed a bright smile at him—the one that he called sunshine. “I’ve missed you, Marky.” You opened your arms for a hug and waited for him to approach. 

“Oh my god, dude, I’ve missed you so much,” Mark practically sighed as he dropped his bags filled with expensive gear just to pull you into him. Being in his strong arms, feeling his chest against yours, and smelling the fresh scent of his cologne set your heart and skin ablaze. You were so in your feelings that you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Instead, you shut your eyes and wound your arms around his waist to press him even closer to you. “I’m so glad to be back.” His voice was low and raspy, his breath hitting the shell of your ear, as he said those words and it sent a shiver down your body. 

“Glad you’re back too,” you whispered into the crook of his neck.

A loud slap rang in your ears and you felt Mark wince in pain. The hit broke your contact with Mark as you both shifted to see who inflicted the uncalled-for strike. Your neighbor, Jeno, just laughed as he hauled his gear over a shoulder. A shoulder that appeared wider than the last time you had seen him. Summer did him good as well. But not as good as it did for Mark. 

“God, you two are disgusting. Just get together already,” Jeno chuckled as he walked by, playfully shoving your head into Mark’s chest. 

Instead of denying the chemistry Jeno insinuated, Mark simply said, “Bro, shut up.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeno ignored Mark’s comment. “See you lovebirds at the beach later?”

The local beach was around one and a half hours away. A small group of friends—including Jaemin, Renjun, and Chenle—left earlier in the morning to secure a spot at the beach. You and Mark were going to stop by his apartment so he could drop off his hockey gear and change into beach attire before heading over to the rest of them. The remainder of the ice hockey team as well as some volleyball, soccer, and basketball folks were coming as well. 

“Yup, see you later, Jeno!” you waved him off before leading Mark to his parked car. Tossing Mark his keys, he caught them in his hand with his swift reflexes. You got into the passenger seat a bit sulkily. Your friend had a newer model than your beat-up, hand-me-down car; you were going to miss taking his car around the city. 

As Mark put his belongings in the trunk, he bit back a grin to see your things already there. It was such a weird thing to smile at but seeing your things mingling with his felt so domestic and right that it just brought him joy. The hockey player slid into the driver’s seat and you were off. 

It took ten minutes to get to Mark’s place. His apartment complex was closer than yours, which was why you crashed there half the time during the school year. You were there so often that you left extra sets of clothes in case of emergencies—meaning unplanned sleepovers—and Mark even had an extra key made for you. You could’ve gotten Mark’s things on the way to pick him up but your best friend insisted that he wanted to drop off his hockey gear first. It made sense, seeing as how expensive his gear was. No one would want to leave a bag as valuable as that in the back of a car trunk.

“Wait here, I’ll be quick,” Mark said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Before completely sliding out of the car, he turned to face you with a shy expression on his face.

“What’s up, Marky?”

His face shifted from shy to determined, like he was hyping himself up to do something. You’d seen your best friend make that face many times in all the years you knew him—before a game, right before a test, or asking a girl out—but it didn’t make sense as to why Mark would do it at that moment. 

Light pressure on your cheek pulled you out of your inquisitive mind and back into the present. When you took a deep breath, the smell of clean, fresh laundry took over your senses followed by a whiff of his birch and eucalyptus shampoo that you used every time you stayed over. His shoulder brushed against your own as he pulled away. And that was when you realized what had just happened. Mark kissed you on the cheek. 

“What was that for?”

His eyes gleamed and his bashful smile widened. “Nothing, I just missed you a lot.” Leaving you no chance to reply, Mark slipped out of the car and slammed the door behind him. You watched as he ran inside, his hands slapping his reddening cheeks while he entered the building.

Mark’s unexpected action left you in a dizzying haze for who knows long, time slipping away while you replayed that moment over and over and over again in your head. Sure, he had done questionable actions to show affection before, like nuzzling his face in your hair or tugging you by the arm into a big hug, but Mark never went as far as kissing you on the cheek. He pet your hair, shouting “cute!” in the most endearing way with the other younger boys following his lead but a kiss on the cheek? Never been done before. But that didn’t mean you didn’t like it. 

The hour-and-a-half drive to the beach didn’t feel so long to the two of you, not when you were shouting into a Bluetooth microphone you saved for road trips. Singing in the car with Mark was one of your favorite past times. Whether it was headbanging (and almost losing control of the car) to a hard rock song or slowing it down with an R&B track that showcased Mark’s husky vocals, you loved every second of it and wouldn’t do it with anyone else.

It didn’t take you long to find where your friends camped out for the day, their loud shouts carrying over the waves crashing into the shore. They were the biggest group on the beach, with three canopies and two smaller tents all huddled in a circle. You saw Johnny and Jaehyun’s surfboards sticking out of the sand, the boys standing right by them with their rash guards hanging loosely around their waists. Ten was controlling the music while Jeno and Jaemin tag-teamed on grilling the food. Your other friends were either lounging about in their chairs, drinks in hand, and you swore you could Donghyuck shouting at Chenle from the shallow end of the water. 

Jaehyun, noticing how much you were struggling to make it through the sand with all your bags, ran to help. “Shouldn’t Mark be helping you with these bags?”

You shrugged as you handed the heavier belongings over to the star basketball player. “He sent me ahead with all the snacks and said he forgot something in the trunk.”

“How was your summer?” 

You elbowed Jaehyun’s side with a teasing grin. “Boring without you by my side.”

Jaehyun chuckled, elbowing you right back. “Don’t let Marky hear you say that.”

It was a weird comment to make. “Why?”

The basketball player shook his head knowingly before throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you to his side. “Ah, that’s for me to know and you to find out, Squirt.”

“And when exactly will I find out?” 

You heard Mark’s voice yelling your name, causing you and Jaehyun to turn around. The boy ran through the sand towards you with a grin brighter than the summer sun, bags tangled in his grip, and an unknown item tucked into his side. Jaehyun released you from his grip and with a gentle shove in Mark’s direction, he replied, “Soon enough I hope.” Your friend went ahead with the rest of your belongings, leaving you to wait for Mark. What did Jaehyun mean by “soon enough?” Was there something you weren’t aware of? Was Mark keeping something from you?

“Sunshine! Look what I brought for us!” Mark pulled out the item pressed against his side to reveal a kite. Your heart swelled with joy and all the feelings you carried for Mark increased tenfold. In the past, you expressed that you always wanted to fly a kite but never had a chance to. It was something shared in passing, nothing memorable by any means. But the fact that Mark remembered that tiny, childlike wish you carried touched you.

Mark stopped in front of you, setting his bags down, to hand the kite over to you. He gently placed it in your hold, giving you the time to admire it.  Its design was simple, just a diamond with rainbow stripes and a matching rainbow tail, but it was beautiful. Your fingers ran through the tail of the kite, feeling the thin fabric slip through the cracks. The breeze picked up, causing the tail to go with the wind, and the childish excitement inside you bloomed. “Can we try it now?”

“Yeah,” Mark laughed at your how your eyes grew brighter and brighter with each passing second. “We just need to drop off the rest of the stuff first and then give it a go.” 

Your gaze never left the kite.

“You like it?” Mark asked.

You shifted your gaze to look him in the eye. “I love it. Thank you, Marky.”

Tucking it to your side, you picked up half of Mark’s belongings. You used your free hand to tug Mark, causing him to stumble in the warm sand. “Now, what are we waiting for? Let’s go already!”

Mark wiggled his hand in your hold, twisting it so your fingers interlocked like it was nothing out of the ordinary. You felt heat rising within you and it had nothing to do with the warm weather. There were little catcalls here and there as you approached your group of friends. Jaehyun and Johnny, the ones who started it all, snickered as you shot death glares at them. You shoved the rest of the belongings into their hands. “Here take care of this stuff, will you?”

You dropped your beach bag under a canopy, quickly stripped yourself of your outer layers, and grabbed the pretty kite once again. Mark wasn’t too far behind you, chatting it up with Renjun and Doyoung, who preferred to stay under the shade. Taking your place beside him, you smiled at the other two. 

“You ready, sunshine?”

“We’ll be back!” you called to Renjun and Doyoung, who simply waved you off.

Mark led you to the shoreline, your feet sinking into the damp sand. You bounced up and down as you waited for your next step. As you held onto the kite, Mark unwinded a bit of the line from the kite spool with certainty. “Now, there isn’t enough of a breeze down here for the kite to launch, so you have to make a run for it.”

“That I can do.”

“As soon as you feel like you’re fast enough, let it go and run back to me. I’ll do the rest.” At that moment, Mark sounded so reliable and it made you melt into goo. “Sounds good?”

“Sounds great,” you whispered back, nodding at him before you broke into a run. You felt the tension of the kite line as your speed increased. And when the wind made its way through your strands, you lifted the kite up in the air and let it go. Your eyes followed its every move as it made its way up, up, up high into the sky, the tail of it fluttering so pretty below it. 

Mark called your name, motioning you to come back to him as he angled the kite to fly above the water. In no time, you were back at his side. Wordlessly, he handed you the reel and you held it with two hands. Mark’s toned arms wrapped around you so that your back pressed against his built front. Every little instruction that he whispered to you brushed against a weak spot of your neck, sending the slightest tingle down your spine. At times, his large hands would land on top of your hands to help you control the reel. When no further instruction was needed, Mark didn’t back away. Instead, he just rested his palms on your hips and watched you as you continued to control the kite. 

You flew the kite for the majority of the day, only taking a few breaks to eat or dive in for a quick swim with your friends. The others invited you to play a round of beach volleyball but there was no way you wanted to go against Johnny or Yuta in the sport. That was a losing game and you knew it. Besides, kite flying was more relaxing than chasing after a ball in the sand. 

When the sun began to set and the temperature dropped, it was time to set up the bonfire. When the breeze picked up, Mark handed you his hoodie and insisted that you needed it more than he did. Plus, unbeknownst to you, your best friend always left an extra jacket in the car for you in case you got cold. He took hold of the reel as you slipped it on, smiling ear to ear as you covered yourself in his clothes. Mark liked the sight of you in his hoodie so much, he loosened his grip on the kite and the flimsy item was picked up by the wind. The spool dragged on, leaving a tiny path on the sand, as the kite continued to drift away.

“Oh shit!” He yelled as the two of you chased after it. The kite landed right in the water, floating along with the waves. You laughed at the ridiculous situation, stopping right where the water met the sand, while Mark ran full speed ahead into the ocean.

“Mark, hey! It’s okay!” You yelled but your best friend didn’t listen. “Just leave it!”

Determined to get it back for you, Mark dived right into now freezing water and swam towards the floating item. He fought the cold temperature that was prickling his skin and the seawater that got into his brown eyes as he reached out for the rainbow kite. Once he latched onto the tail, he pulled it towards him, hugged it to his chest, and led himself back to the shore.

You met him as he made his way out of the water, immediately draping his beach towel over his wet shoulders. His teeth chattered as he winced at the breeze that wiggled its way through his wet layers. Feeling him shiver against your side, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders and ran your hand up and down his side. “You idiot, why would you go after it? It’s just a kite. Now you’re gonna get sick.”

Mark tucked his wet mop of hair into your shoulder, lips brushing against the skin of your neck. “Because you love the kite,” he muttered.

“You’re a dummy,” you whispered back, leaving a little kiss at the top of his head. His free arm circled around your middle, drawing you closer to him. If it was anyone else, you would easily shove them away for dampening your dry clothes. But because it was Mark, you didn’t mind how the cold fabric tickled your skin. It was nothing compared to the way Mark clung to you. “Let’s get you to the fire.”

If Mark Lee was an endless ocean, you would easily dive into his embrace. And much to everyone else’s knowledge but your own, Mark would do the very same. 

If you were a siren, he would heed your dangerous call, no matter the risk. If you were the breeze that pushed the sails, he would go along with the wind. And if you were the bottomless sea, filled with the unknown, Mark Lee would willingly submerge himself into rough waters and dive into you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. harvest break from work and school means i finally have time to relax and unwind by writing <3 i haven’t released anything mark lee related in a while and thought this would be a good time to drop a mark fic! please let me know what you think. proofread but i may have missed some things!

TAGLIST. @keemburley @johtenrecs @bat-shark-repellant  @bebsky @donutswithjaminthemiddle @suhnnyskhies @baekhyuns-lipchain @emmybyeakitty  @sokkigarden @inlovergirlsworld @iwishiwasthemoontonight @stvrrynight @loeycity @ppangjae @luvenshiti @renjuunsz @ferxanda @jaembby @jenosuh​ @mxrcayong-main​

reply to this post or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

NETWORKS. @czennienet @neowritingsnet @ankathi-a 

© sehunniepotwrites, 2022

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déj�� vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[miyagihawk]

“idfc; blackbear (again it’s so easily related to hawk vibes, maybe he’s afraid to open up again for a relationship after moon so he acts like he doesn’t care about the reader but the mfs actually so in love😩✋🏻)” - @hawkwhore

ugh i love this sm and blackbear 😛 ty for the request as always <3

idfc | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

warnings: just cursing?

summary: based on idfc by blackbear :) hawk doesn’t like you and you don’t know why

a/n: soooo i kinda strayed from the song LOL sorry but this is kinda more cutesy and less angsty than the song. i actually like it though :)

You don’t know why he seemed to hate you.

Ever since you walked into the dojo for the first time, it was like you couldn’t escape his death stare.

Eventually, you got closer to Miguel, his best friend, so you two started going to the same parties and hanging out more often. But he never seemed to warm up to you.

Miguel said Hawk was just intimidated by you because you always beat him when Sensei calls you both to spar. So you let him win one time, but he seemed to hate you even more after.

Which is why you started Operation Get Hawk To Like Me.

It seemed like a fun challenge to get the broody boy to enjoy your company, but you also sincerely wanted to be friends with him. When he would laugh with Miguel and he smiled like the sun, it made you sad that he was so cold towards you but so warm towards others. You wanted the sun.

You decided that the first part of O.G.H.T.L.M was to subtlety be nicer; you didn’t want to be desperately kind out of nowhere and make him dislike you even more.

“Hey!” you called after the red haired boy who was about to open the door to the dojo.

Hawk turned around slowly at the sound of your voice, and you winced at the annoyed look on his face.

“I- uh, I got this for you,” you held out a blueberry smoothie. When everyone hung out at Golf N Stuff, you saw that he got that flavor and took a mental note.

The boy stood in front of you with a twisted face, not reaching out to take the drink. “Why?” he asked.

You shifted awkwardly, feeling nervous under his stare. Was this too forward? “Um... I accidentally got an extra one?” you made the excuse lamely. “Just take it.”

“Give it to Miguel,” Hawk turned around and sauntered into the dojo, leaving you with a frown. But you wiped off any trace of your disappointed expression and walked into practice too.

-

You tried everything.

You waved at him every time you passed each other in the halls. You got him drinks at parties and you even offered to be the designated driver so that he could get wasted with Miguel.

When you two sparred, you lost on purpose each time. Sensei even pulled you aside to ask if something was wrong. “Hawk is getting better,” was all you said, but he didn’t seem convinced.

The list of things you were trying to do for Operation Get Hawk To Like Me seemed endless and you were totally kissing his ass. His feelings about you weren’t budging, and it seemed like this was just a hopeless mission.

“I just don’t get why he hates me so much. I’m trying so hard,” you groaned.

“Maybe that’s why. You’re trying too hard,” Miguel said across from you with a mouthful of fries.

“Well I don’t know what to do then. I want him to know I’m trying.”

“He knows,” your best friend nodded his head nonchalantly.

Your face scrunched up in confusion, causing Miguel to give you an amused look. “Then why doesn’t he care? I’m starting to think there’s just something wrong with me,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“You should just talk to him if it’s bothering you so much,” Miguel shrugged.

“I guess I should,” you slumped, feeling intimidated by the thought of confronting Hawk. Was it even worth it? If he didn’t want to be your friend now, then what would change if you talked to him? If he would even agree to talk.

-

Tonight. The final step that would determine if you were going to give up on Hawk.

The truth is, it really hurt your feelings how little he cared about you. And it hurt even more when you went out of your way to get him to even acknowledge you as an acquaintance.

You don’t know why it affected you so badly; maybe you’ve always had a teensy crush on him. And maybe this little plan you formulated was actually motivated by your subconscious desire to really get to know him, even though you passed it off as wanting to simply be his friend.

So tonight, at the party you were all going to, you were going to talk to him. And get the truth on why he was so persistent in shoving you away.

“Woah, slow down Y/N. Miss lightweight,” Miguel eyed you cautiously when you downed another cup of beer.

“I just need some liquid courage to face Hawk,” you licked your lips, already feeling the effect of the alcohol clouding your mind. You started to sway without noticing, making Miguel laugh at you amusingly.

“Well good luck with that. But that’s enough, or you won’t even get any words out,” he took the cup from you and you pouted. Miguel subtly motioned behind you, and you turned around to look.

It was the red haired boy you’ve been avoiding all night; the one who made your palms sweat when you thought about the conversation you were planning to have.

But with the alcohol giving you a rush of confidence, you walked up to him with no anxiety. His eyes widened when he saw you rushing forward, and he almost looked afraid.

“Can I talk to you?” you said solidly, feeling braver than you usually are. Hawk looked at you, confused, but nodded to his friends before following you to go somewhere quieter.

He traced behind you as you opened the door to go outside, where there were less people and the music wasn’t so loud.

“Um... is something wrong?” Hawk stood awkwardly in front of you, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“Of course there’s something wrong,” you replied in a meaner tone than you intended, but you brushed off the guilt.

“Well what is it?” he asked in his usual annoyed tone that he used only when he needed to speak to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up with frustration. “Why don’t you like me?” you blurted out, and the expression on his face told you that he wasn’t prepared for it at all.

“W-What?” Hawk stuttered, his previously composed persona was gone.

“Why don’t you like me?” you repeated, more forcefully. “I am so nice to you. But you just hate me and I have no idea why! And you’re just best buds with everyone else, so I know you aren’t incapable of having friends. Do you know how shitty that feels? Especially when I try so hard to just get you to treat me decently!” your mouth ran on and on and words were coming out without you thinking.

Your blurred vision from your anger cleared after you caught your breath, and you focused on his shocked expression. It was the most expression he’s ever shown you.

“I-I-” Hawk stammered, but you cut him off.

“Look, I’ll leave you alone if you just tell me to. But tell me why, so I can give up. I’m sorry, okay? For whatever I’ve done that makes you not even want to be near me. And I don’t even know why I feel like I need you to like me, I just-”

This time he was the one to interrupt you. “I do like you.”

You blinked in confusion, taken aback by his words.

Hawk licked his lips anxiously, taking a breath in before speaking, “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a dick. The truth is... I’ve been... um... catching feelings for you. And I guess I was trying to protect myself by pushing you away.”

Your mouth dropped open at his confession. Out of all the responses you were expecting when you were overthinking about the conversation, this one was one you could have never seen coming. But surprisingly, it made your stomach turn and your heartbeat accelerate.

He continued, this time looking into your eyes with his blue ones. “I don’t hate you at all. I just... I just felt like last time I caught feelings for someone I just got hurt. And I was all in, but they weren’t. That’s why I keep myself from getting close to you. I’m sorry Y/N,” Hawk confessed his whole heart, leaving you speechless.

After barely getting a few words out of him everyday, his confession of feelings was overwhelming. But you finally understood him. You knew about his relationship with Moon and how it went down from all the school gossip, but for some reason you never pieced together that it was why his guard was up so high.

“I don’t really know what to say,” you admitted, still feeling woozy from both the alcohol and his speech. You weren’t sure about your feelings and you didn’t want to say something you didn’t mean. Yes, you had feelings for him too, but everything was going so fast.

Hawk gave you a smile that calmed you from your worry. “It’s okay, sorry. It was a lot. But if you still want we can be friends.” He reached out his hand for you to shake and confirm your partnership.

Instead of taking it, you took him by surprise by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He melted into the hug after a few seconds, and you smiled from behind his view. “Friends,” you pulled away and he beamed at you warmly.

You finally got the sun.

a/n: omg bye this was not like the song at all SORRY there wasn’t that much action it was just fluffy IVE BEEN WATCHING TOO MUCH MIRACULOUS LADYBUG like they r so soft and u can see the influence of it on my writing lmaoo anyways hope u enjoyed!! :)

[shotorozu]

TITLE : hospital stay

PAIRING : bakugou katsuki x reader

SYNOPSIS : you’re in the hospital on your boyfriend’s birthday, and bakugou seems to have no issue with spending it in there.

WARNING(S) : MHA MANGA SPOILERS ‼️ (recent arc)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, a quirk similar to the avatar but that’s about it.

note(s) : so, it’s bakugou’s birthday. and i had this idea since march 20 😦 so i’ve been waiting for his birthday to come for literally a month but i didn’t want to post this way too early. alsooo i don’t know if this arc happened near spring but lets pretend it did for the sake of the story

When you woke up, the fluorescent lights were the first to hit your face

Following by the incoming beeping of a monitor, and the sudden throbbing of your head, the dryness of your throat evident.

Blinking slowly (or trying to, your other eye being a bit delayed.) you try recalling what just happened. You’re in a hospital, that’s one thing you know, but the specifics are still unknown to you.

Right. You remember now, you were fighting along side your classmates, and you managed to get blasted away when you thought that shielding Bakugou Katsuki would work. Yeah, you were sure that you were going to get an earful from him, if he—

You jolt when you notice said blond standing right next to your bed, vermillion eyes staring deep into your own, and somewhat— you could feel the weight and intensity in the stare

“S-since when did you get here?” You’re startled, and your voice is hoarse. Bakugou doesn’t formulate a response, and chooses to avoid the question as a whole.

“Finally you’re up.” He rolls his eyes. He looks much better than you remembered, despite having a few bandages on his forehead— he looked well. “It’s been 5 fucking days.”

“Five days?” You question out loud, your sense of time all disorganized. You clench your hand, just to see if your quirk was still working. Seeing air, fire, water, and just.. something, would relieve your worries— but a look from the blond shot you down quickly. You decided that it was wise if you didn’t try.

The blond seems to be done with the conversation, since he immediately walks out of the room. Actually, why was he here? You’d expect him to be laying down in bed, but despite being hit with that beam, he was walking around like everything was fine.

He comes back with a few other nurses, and they’re relieved to see that you’re awake— and even though they’ve bombarded you with questions with how you felt, you couldn’t brush off the feeling of a pair of ruby eyes on you.

Just, glaring. It’s nothing abnormal.

When the nurses finally leave you alone, giving you details of a few injuries— like your injured— well, burned eyelid that honestly stung (it came from the fire aspect of your quirk) you would’ve expected to be alone in your hospital room for the rest of your time there but Bakugou stayed.

“You’re going to tell me why you jumped in front of me?”

You were expecting to be questioned by him, after all— what you did didn’t exactly shield him, since he was also pierced. You didn’t expect the interrogation to be happening this soon

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to fucking know.” And he suddenly changes his mind, just like that.

You would’ve said impulse as an answer, but you doubt that he would’ve taken that seriously. And besides, you were kind of glad he changed midway that he didn’t want your answer. Your voice feels parched, despite chugging down a glass of water earlier.

“Did you check up on Deku?” You cringe when you hear cracks in your voice, and the dryness is unbearable to your throat, but he nods. “Idiot’s knocked out cold.”

He doesn’t mention the fact that you were one of the last few people that were still rendered unconscious.

“Your throat sounds like the sahara desert. Do me a favor and drink up.”

You blink owlishly at the glass of water that was set on the mini table, and when you drink up— it actually does something to relieve (temporarily) the dryness.

It was a consequence of your quirk after all, using your quirk too much would cause your body to feel sore, and everywhere to feel dry, and he knew that.

Bakugou was acting uncharacteristically, and you just don’t know why. Maybe it’s not so uncharacteristic of him, since he’s been less of an asshole as of recently, but you know that he would probably deviate from the question if you asked, so the both of you sat in silence.

—

It’s the next day, the same as yesterday— except it looked like dawn when you woke up. Bakugou also appeared at the side of your bed once again, almost as if he was there for quite some time.

“Nice to see you too,” You think to yourself, and you’re glad you didn’t actually say that out loud. You try to stand up straight, but Bakugou’s quick to push your back against the pillows.

“Don’t sit up, that’s idiotic.”

“Right, sorry. How did you get here? Isn’t it too early?” The parched throat came back. Though the ‘magical’ baku-water helped, it’s effects were only temporarily, sadly.

“You call 7am early?” Right, because for him— 7am isn’t that early, you even remember seeing him up at 6 sometimes.

“Actually, wait.” You blink, trying to recall what day it was, and what month it was. You recalled it being spring but.. was it March? or was it April already?

“What.. day is it today?”

It was almost like he was hesitant to say, “..April 20.”

“What the— April 20?” You’re appalled, because the last time you remembered, it wasn’t anywhere near April 20, but maybe it’s your 5 day unconsciousness to be blamed. “Isn’t it your birthday?”

“Shut up,” He mumbles, and he shifts around the room in search of something, but it’s too dim to be able to tell.

“Medicine. The nurses said you should take it now.”

You don’t reply.

“It’s for your Sahara desert throat. The other things are for your fucked up eye and injuries.”

That seems to be enough to convince you to take the medicine, and despite wanting to run away screaming from the bitterness, you take the medicine— not wanting to be met with any consequences

“Why are you spending your birthday here?”

“Do idiots like you ask that many questions?” He shoots back, and you’re unfazed by the fact that he just called you an idiot. You wouldn’t blame him.

“No but.. you seem fine.”

“A few days ago I was not, but now I am because I took medicine.” He walks over to untwist a few medicine caps, it appears to be for your eye.

“So, Does my eye look fine?” You bat your eyelashes just to mess with him, and he flicks your forehead with an ointment cap “No.”

“Sorry, sorry,” You laugh, choosing to completely ignore the sudden sharp pain when you laugh.

He bends down to reach eyelevel, “Can you see?”

“Sorta.” Your eye has this thin blur filter to it, that can’t be good— can it? Going blind in one eye, and having to wear an eye patch.

It was almost on cue, because Bakugou says “You’ll be rocking the pirate look if you don’t take your medicine,” Instead of handing the medicine for you to apply, he quickly applies a decent amount around your eyes— not giving you a warning whatsoever.

You wince slightly, but you’re glad it’s over. But why is he playing nurse with you? And why was he brushing off the fact that it’s literally his birthday.

—

Through out the entire day, Bakugou continued to act as if he had some responsibility over you. From helping you put on your medicine, to just monitoring you with eyes of a hawk. The fact that he chose to ignore all your protests was just a part of him.

His behavior was also very.. interesting. It would swing from being his usual self, to being this eerily quiet and calm Bakugou. You would’ve guessed that you were having a fever dream, if it weren’t for the fact that he wore his usual scowl on his face.

What remained consistent, despite it all— was that he stayed. He ate lunch in your room. He only left when the doctors and nurses asked him too, but that was only temporary. He stayed with you the entire day, even when the clock stroke 5pm.

But it’s quite literally his birthday? Why would he spend it in a hospital room with some extra? Or idiot? Let alone, why would he take care of said idiot/extra on his birthday? You don’t know because he refuses to tell you on why he spent it here.

“Did you at least get some cake or something?” You ask for the umpteenth time, Bakugou’s paced back and forth for some medicine bottles and bottles of water, and you could tell that he was scowling, despite the fact that he was facing the other direction, “Why the hell would I want cake? You’ve been asking weird shit all day.”

“Because it’s your birthday? Seriously— have you been brainwashed into thinking that it’s not your birthday?”

“What— fuck no. I haven’t been brainwashed.” He turns over to you, “I know today is my birthday.”

“Okay, so you know. Why aren’t you celebrating then? Did people forget? Or am I finally going insane?”

Bakugou chooses to stay silent. He stands up, and walks over to you— everytime he moves closer, you could feel your heart pound, luckily not at a dangerous rate.

“Birthday, birthday, birthday” He grumbles, quiet, but loud enough for you to hear. “That’s all you’ve been talking about. As if like you weren’t the one in the hospital bed as we speak.”

“Okay, is it wrong to remember your birthday?”

“Shut up, I didn’t say that.” He gets closer once again, almost to the point that your faces weren’t that far away.

“You’ve just been so concerned about my damn birthday, that you haven’t even taken a good look at yourself,” He gestures at you, by looking you up and down

You finally take observation of all of the gauzes, the IV tubes, and bandages, his words forcing you to look at what was reality.

“I don’t know why you did what you did, jumping in front of me like some kind of heroic bastard, it’s dumb. For all I know, I should be screaming at you, and wishing you the worst for that.” He clenches his fist when he recalls, the scene replaying in his head

“But what I am saying is that, you can give me a gift if you’re so fucking concerned about my birthday. It’s the least you can do.” His statement is solid enough for you to take him seriously. You wouldn’t have if he was scowling, but it’s quite.. different. An expression you’ve seen all day, but seeing it up close is a different story.

“And that would be..?” You gulp, anticipation bubbles

And just like that, he presses his lips against yours, the warmth of his lips sending shocks of warmth all around your body— the impact was abrupt, but the kiss as a whole was surprisingly gentle

Yet, it was also similar to his quirk, it sparked up spurs of need and sent goosebumps all over your body.

You place a hand on his shoulder, the tubes around your arms making it too difficult to wrap your arms around him as you deepened the kiss, Bakugou’s touch is cautious when he lays his hand on a spot that was the least affected, aware of your injuries. Pushing the small of your back with his hand quite gently, he kisses you like it’ll be the very last— even though you both know it won’t be.

When you both pull back, you’re taken aback— unable to think of coherent words, and a proper response.

But this damn bastard, he smirks at you knowing that he just sent shocks and explosions of intense feelings all around your body, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Wait, that’s unfair!”

“What?”

“I had no idea you even liked me!”

“For the fucking longest time I did, why the hell would I even be in some extras room, if I didn’t care about them?!” He tries not to yell too loudly but, the tone of his voice gets raised

You blink, “And you preferred playing nurse with your crush this entire time, instead of spending it properly like well.. everyone else?”

“Who the hell said— Fucking hell, do I have to kiss you again for you to understand?”

“Enlighten me,” Your mouth quirks up into a smile, which ultimately causes his cheeks to be set ablaze.

“Playing fucking nurse with you isn’t horrible. It’s one way to spend my birthday, even when you give me shit about it” His brows press together, trying to drown out his flustered expressions with a scowl, “There’ll be more birthdays to come, so why would I be ‘wasting’ it here? There, that’s it. You happy now?”

Silence.

“..More than happy. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your thing for playing nur—”

“Don’t you fucking finish that thought,” He says stern. “I’m going to get the nurses to check on you, and then— I’ll go home and come back again, tomorrow.”

He storms off, and when the blond is sure that he’s not in your line of vision anymore— he slumps against the wall

“Fucking hell, they’re driving me crazy.” He mumbles, recalling what he had pulled off earlier.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[technowoah]

could you do 21 and 23 from the prompt list with george x gn! or fem!reader?

btw i adore your writing!! i love all your ideas and your imagines are so original ahhh i love them sm

So Cliché [3:41 am]

TYSM! OMG THAT MEANS A LOT TO ME🤚🏾😭

Also sorry this came out so late

I am guessing the prompts are from the fluff list, but if this isn't what you wanted I'll do it from the angst list!

21) "Are you up? Do you need me to stay up?"

23) "Pinki promise kiss"

⚠︎ swearing, fluffy stuff, i didn't proofread 😪

Your eyes adjusted to the dark bedroom you were in. The door was closed and the curtains were slightly opened letting in the slightest slither of light inside. The sun hasn't rose yet and your body felt heavy. You turned around under the warm covers of your bed and looked at the clock beside your bed that shined 3:41 am.

You groaned as you rotated around in bed until you found a comfortable way to lay down. Time seemed to be going slower when you woke up, the need to sleep flooded your mind but you just couldn't relax. Turning around again you faced your closed door that led to the hallway. The door always had to be at least cracked and not completely closed, but your roomate was making too much noise at an ungodly hour.

Living alone wasn't good for you at all, you didn't feel comfortable living alone. It was so quiet all the time and no one was around to entertain you or comfort you when things went bump in the night until your friend George suggested that you moved in with him. You always complained that you needed a roommate so he proposed the idea that you two moved in together to make you feel safe.

A few days from that conversation you packed your things and moved in with George. Slowly but surely you moved all of your things into George's place and he was always there to help. George had two bedrooms in his house and they were right next to eachother. You both woke up around the same time and went to bed at totally different times.

George and you always made breakfast together, sat around the house thinking of things to do and just end up sitting on the couch watching anything interesting he finds, doing chores and going out quickly to then inevitably end up back to the couch to do absolutely nothing. George always ended up sleeping while you two had this time together because he stayed up so late you dont know how he could sleep like a baby like that all the time. He ended up either laying on the armrest of the couch or on your shoulder. You always thought that was uncomfortable for him, but he always ended up there. The last couple times he ended up laying on your thighs which flustered you the first time, and the second, basically anytime he goes to lay on your lap you tense up.

You weren't afraid of physical touch, but this was new to you, you've grown accustomed to George and you think you a crush evolved from nothing. You two have been really close and it all started with a stupid Minecraft server. Ever since you moved in you two have grown closer than ever and your complicated feelings if you would want George as a boyfriend or not flooded your mind as we speak.

[4:01]

You still couldn't sleep and it was becoming a problem. You tossed and turned until you felt comfortable and began to count sheep, but you already got to 40 and didn't feel sleepy at all. Encasing yourself underneath your covers didn't help, it only made you hot. You were wide awake at this point. You had sat up and got out of your bed slipping on some fluffy socks and quitely opened the door and shuffled your way to the living room. You tried to stay quiet trying to keep George asleep as you turned on the TV.

Turning down the volume you sat there for a while underneath a blanket you and George had on the couch for times like this. You had a throw pillow underneath your head while you layed horizontal, across the couch. Two shows later and your eyes began to droop, it was a sense of accomplishment because you were finally sleeping so you stayed there still so you continue to lull yourself to sleep.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" George asked with tired eyes and gravelly voice. "Are you up? Do you need me to stay up?"

"Fuck you George. I was about to go to sleep. I kinda want you up with me." You complained as you pulled the blanket over your head with your eyes still closed.

"C'mon silly get in your bed. Were you here all night?" George said while leaning against a wall, clearly still tired.

"No. I couldn't sleep. Why are you here?" You asked, but your words mumbled together.

"I heard the TV." George pointed at the TV that was illuminating objects in the dark.

You hummed and he did as well. "Are you okay bub?"

You had a small smile on your face, you loved the small petnames he gave you. You had a small feeling that he didn't mean it in the romantic way you wanted it to be.

"I woke up and cant sleep now. I was almost asleep, but you came in so.." You said still drowsy from staying in the state of in-between being awake and sleep.

"Im sorry." George said with his head against the wall, eyes closed. "Mm sorry I'm tired." George wiped his face.

"Could you sleep with me?"

"What?" George asked laughing slightly.

"No not that, just sleep in the same bed." You said. Your brain was just working on his own. You wouldn't have said this if you were awake, but you were desperate and needed sleep. Also you were touch starved and your crush on George was becoming more apparent each day, but that wasnt the point now.

"Yeah I'll do that." George said while pushing himself off of the wall.

"What?" You said thinking he would reject the offer.

"You sound like me. Come on." George said making his way over to you and reaching his arms out. You sat up looking at him with half open eyes and ended up grabbing both of his hands to pull yourself up.

Once both of you were on your feet you both lazily made your way to your bedroom. You mad yourself comfortable under the covers while George sat ontop, restricting the cover's movements.

"You're ontop of the blankets, it's weird." You mumbled.

"Sorry, sorry. Um, what would you want me to do?" George asked as he got off of the bed and stood there awaiting for an answer.

Your back was facing towards him when you answered. "Come on under the covers, I dont bite." You faced towards him when you said that.

He smiled a bit and then got under the covers with you, he layed on his back facing the ceiling and his hands on his stomach. He was uncomfortable.

You turnedon your side facing George. "Are you uncomfortable? If you want you can leav-"

"No! No. Im just- Ive never done this before you know. I've never comforted anyone like this." George quickly said.

"Like cuddled anyone?"

"Like cuddle, yeah."

A silence fell upon you two until George laid on his side facing you. His face was close to yours and you tried not to freak out right in front of him. He reached his hand across your body and started to rub your back. You shuffled your body a little so that your heads weren't at the same level, you were level with his chest and you got closer leaning your forehead against his chest. You both got more comfortable and got closer in touch, he soothingly rubbed your back trying to lull you to sleep.

It was a while that you both layed like this, basking in eachothers comfort

"I wish I could sing like Wilbur. That would make this moment better." George whispered against your hair.

"You being here makes this moment already great though." You whispered as well hoping he could hear you.

"Really?"

"Really. I mean it. I love this." You pulled him close.

"I love 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ."

"I love you too."

You smiled with your eyes closed. "Promise you love me?"

"Pinki promise I love you." George lazily locked both of your little fingers together.

"Pinki promise kiss." You puckered your lips hoping he would get the hint.

You heard George chuckle and he softly pecked you lips, it was like he was testing the waters. You opened your eyes and he had a small tired smile on his face, the two of you ended up giggling like little kids and then going back into the calming state you both were in.

Thank God for you both being in that state of tiredness. You just hoped that you both remembered what happend at [4:32 am] when you both wake up.

EXTRA:

You were alone in the kitchen this morning making pancakes. George hasnt met up with you yet and you questioned why. Yes you remembered last night and you're glad that you finally had the courage to say that you loved him, but it wasn't how you pictured it happening.

You flipped your pancake as George came put from around the corner looking fresher and more awake than last night. He smiled at you and made his way over to you. He closely stood by you and reached over your head to grab a glass from above. He only stepped that closely to you to grab a glass.

You begun to think that he forgot about last night's kiss. He had filled his glass with ice and then with water he stood over by the refrigerator for a while until he walked over to you.

You had just finished the second pancake of the day and faced George who was stood beside you waiting for your attention. He smiled at you and slowly leaned down and gave you a kiss on your lips. It was slow and longing, like he wanted to do this for quite a while. One of his hands found the side of your face and the other one pulled you closer by your waist. He then pulled away having a big smile on his face, you matched his smile clearly glad that he did that and remember.

"This is so cliché you know that right?" You laughed.

George rolled his eyes playfully. "Exactly, I feel like I've read this somewhere before."

"Like on Wattpad?" You jokingly asked.

"Yeah I read a bunch of DreamNotFound fanfiction on there." George said as he swayed you back and forth along with him.

"Hey~!"

"I'm just kidding! And I pinki promised didnt I?" George rose his eyebrows.

"You did! You did!" You smiled at him and he matched your smile again.

"I love you." George said.

"I love you too." You replied.

"I could get used to this!"

[from-a-reckless-writer]

here lads have an angsty supercorp soulmate story

It starts exactly 24 hours after Kara’s departure. 

It’s subtle at first. It actually reminds Lena of the first few days after they met. 

The slow but steady build-up of pain manifesting itself into little things; shaky hands, dizzy spells, chest pains. The pills help, of course. She’s already ingested 5 pills in the span of 3 hours and she’s contemplating taking more. Just to keep the pain—threatening to overtake her—at bay. But what good would she be if Alex finds her passed out on the floor? Veins chock-full of narcotics? 

So, she wills her hands to stop shaking and pushes on. She sends a text to Jess to send a shipment of pills to her home address; tells her to be discreet. 

She can do it. She’s done it before. She can fucking do it again. And she will bring Kara home. 

Because every moment that passes with them apart, means a step closer to Lena’s death. 

You might think she’s exaggerating, but really she isn’t. See, Kara’s her soul mate, not just in the figure of speech wax-poetic sense but literally Kara’s her soul mate. 

But her being a Luthor of course, soul mates wouldn’t come easy. None of it had ever been easy. Why would this one be an exception? It wasn’t unheard of, no, there were a few rare cases of it being recorded. Of course, Lena would be one of those people. Why wouldn’t the universe add shitty soul mate luck into the long list of misfortunes in Lena’s life? What’s one more curse, right? 

See, Kara’s her soul mate but...Lena isn’t Kara’s.

“You look like shit, Luthor. You’re allowed to take a break you know?” 

It’s Alex who breaks her out of her reverie. She prays to God that Alex doesn't notice her shaking hands. She’s well aware she looks like shit. She feels like shit, she doesn’t need Alex of all people to point that one out. But now, Lena notices that the whole place is empty, she didn’t even notice J’onn slip out. She didn’t even notice Alex coming in too, really. 

Brainy had long passed-out in one of the beds in the MedBay in the 2nd level of The Tower, Nia taking up the opposite bed. There was a brief moment when she walked in that made her feel tempted to occupy the third bed and take a break. But then, her chest tightened and a flare of pain lit up her whole insides, it was reason enough to keep her feet moving and back unto the computers trying to pinpoint Kara’s location. 

“I know,” she replies, “But it’s really not necessary, Alex. I’ll rest after.” 

She doesn’t need rest, what she needs is Kara to be here. 

She refuses to look at Alex, fingers flying across the screen. Alex shifts closer to her, lays a hand on her right arm prompting her to stop. Her eyes land on Alex's hand and continue up to Alex’s eyes. 

“We’ll find her, Lena. But you have to rest. I’m serious, Luthor. Come on,” Alex persists, wrapping her hand more firmly and tugging at Lena to follow her. 

She doesn’t say that rest will do her more harm than good. She doesn’t say that if she closes her eyes all she would see is Kara’s body floating all alone in space and the pain would start anew.

First, her chest and then travelling up the rest of her body until all there is is pain. 

She doesn’t say that she needs to work in order to distract her from the pain. 

Instead, she holds her tongue, lets Alex bring her to the 2nd level and tries to have the most fitful sleep of her life. 

***

It gets worse on the 5th day of the second week. It really isn’t a surprise considering this is the longest she’s had to go without Kara around. 

She’s taken mega-doses of painkillers in anticipation for today. Last night was a nightmare, she had to bite down on a hand towel as waves of pain assaulted her, again and again and again.

When morning came, it slowly subsided. Once feeling had returned to her legs she ran into the kitchen and swallowed 3 pills immediately. 

It doesn’t matter if she’s taken 3 or 4 or a whole bottle today, because it will just get worse and worse the longer Kara isn’t by her side. 

And so, she drags herself into The Tower again, because she needs to finally find a way to bring her back. 

She tries to ignore the tightening of her chest even though she’s really having a hard time breathing now. Not to mention the pain behind her eyes that is bit by bit making it difficult for her to coordinate with Brainy’s computations. 

She’s taken to keeping a bottle of pills on her person now. Opting to take them dry as if they were mint candies to keep her tongue moving while programming lines of codes. 

She thinks she’s still being subtle. 

Well, she is.

Until she isn’t. 

She crumples to the floor in front of everyone and a guttural scream of pain breaks free from her lips. 

***

When she wakes it’s to Alex sitting by her bedside. 

She lets out a groan in response to the sore feeling of her entire body. It’s like the time they were forced to do team building exercises all day in Mt. Helena and Lena nearly passed out. 

Alex hands her a bottle of water. She sips greedily before handing it back and wiping her mouth. 

“Hey? How you feeling?”

“Like I wanna die.”

Alex sighs and Lena intentionally avoids her eyes. 

“It’s Kara isn’t it?” Alex says and Lena doesn’t bother with lying anymore.

“It is.”

“How you survived almost two weeks away from her, I wouldn’t know. Two days away from Kelly—” Alex breaks off, inhales deeply and then sighs again, “That’s already torture for me.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” She retorts flatly, hands fiddling with the rough edges of the blanket. Alex looks like she wants to say something about that but Lena beats her there. 

“How?” She asks, gesturing to the IV drip. How am I not feeling pain right now? How am I still breathing? How am I still alive?

“The DEO created a special fluid for agents,” Alex reveals, “They distribute it to agents on field assignments. That way, them and their partners don’t die from pain. Good thing, J’onn had a stash hidden here, well, we always thought it would be for me and Kelly. Never expected you, Luthor.”

Lena takes that in for a moment. So, the DEO had a special formula of Dextrose to stave off the pain of soulmate separation and apparently she’s using up all the remaining bags of it. 

And it’s not even supposed to be for her. 

“Don’t worry about it. Brainy can replicate the formula.”

Worry must’ve shown on her face. So, she works on schooling her features again, she knows that Alex is itching to ask her questions but is trying to be polite. 

There’s really no use hiding anything now though. 

“K-Kara’s my soulmate,” she finally says out loud, and she’s always thought that it’s supposed to feel cathartic and freeing but instead it just feels heavy. 

“But I’m not hers,” she quickly finishes, better to rip the band-aid off. She briefly looks at Alex, whose face doesn’t give her anything; mouth a tight line and eyes shining with curiosity. 

She doesn’t know if Alex had ever had a conversation with Kara about soul mates before. Had they talked about it? Had Kara ever mentioned Lena acting too clingy whenever they don’t see each other for a short period of time? Had Kara ever told Alex if she would want a soul mate of her own?

But the look and silence from Alex’s side makes Lena refrain from asking. 

Instead, she starts to tell her how it had hit her the instant Kara walked in her office. How there was a zing! and her brain had immediately screamed HER. That’s the one. She’s the one. 

How when they met eyes and Kara had told her her name it felt like Lena’s soul finally found her home. 

“I asked for her name and I kind of thought she’d wait for me to get out of the office,” Lena trails off and Alex takes it for what it is. 

Their first meeting was all sparks for Lena but then, the conversation kept going and going and Clark had tried interrogating her and Kara didn’t do anything. 

Didn’t approach her afterwards, didn’t show any reaction that might’ve given Lena a clue that she felt the way Lena did. 

A conclusion was easily reached. 

Kara was hers but she wasn’t Kara’s. 

After the initial shock settled in, Lena set to work. Because that was what she did best. Work out a solution to everything and anything that poses a problem. 

How many people have dreamed about meeting their soul mate? How many years had Lena sat there hoping that tomorrow maybe, maybe she’ll finally meet them? She never expected this, never expected her soul to find a home that isn’t hers. 

Staying away from Kara was a non-starter, it’s only been a day since they parted but Lena can already feel the beginnings of pain. Slow but sharp shots of throbbing from behind her eyes then came the shaky hands then the dizziness and then— 

They became friends and Lena made sure Kara didn’t know anything about her growing need to be close to her; didn't let Kara know about the fact that the universe made Lena its most epic punchline yet. 

She agreed to scheduled game nights and movie nights and lunch dates. She never knew the pain of soulmate separation during those early days. Kara was always around; bringing her a salad, covering an L-Corp gala, crashing on Lena’s couch. 

“It was easy, you know? Kara was always there. What are friends for?” Lena mimics Kara and then repeats somberly, “It was easy, Alex.”

Or at least, Lena kept telling herself it was easy. She had it easy. She didn’t have to think about painkiller pills or cutting her business trips short—because the pain becomes unbearable too soon—like so many of her board members do. 

She had it easy with Kara, she can just call and she’ll be there. 

Until, Kara started going MIA. And for three days pain overtook her entire life. The pain made her unable to think clearly, the pills kicking in at the last minute. 

“You haven't been around. Supergirl's been there for me. Person who judges me on the very premise of my last name, but my best friend hasn't,” she accuses because Goddamnit Kara has no idea what kind of shit Lena had to endure with her going away with no warning. 

Logically, Lena knows it’s partly her fault. 

She knows that if she only just told Kara that she needs her to live, Kara would stay. But she doesn’t want anything to change. 

Of course, Kara would stay, it was the kind of thing a person like her would do. 

Kara would take care of her, whatever Lena needed she would give. 

But Lena didn’t want things that way. 

She wants Kara to want her the same way she wants her. 

But no, Lena’s not going to tell her that. She is never going to know. She will find an alternative. So, she injects as much venom as she can into that accusation, “B-but maybe it’s better if I leave.” 

She makes Kara leave. 

She just got her cure back and immediately Lena had pushed her away. The moment Kara stepped out of the door, a dull throb already kicked in her chest; as if telling Lena she was making a big mistake. 

She regretted that night so much, Jess had to drag her drunken body out of her office. 

Then it became normal again and Lena went back to not worrying about body pains again. 

Because a different kind of pain is trying to make itself known. 

A gaping hole in her heart that is entirely unrelated to the biological consequences of being separated from your soul mate. 

She was falling in love. 

She was falling in love and she wasn’t prepared for how it would hurt to have Kara not love her back. She can endure the physical pain, there are pills for that. 

But there wasn’t any type of medication to see your other half everyday and not have them see you as theirs. 

When Lex told her Kara’s secret. Something broke inside of her. Which was saying something, considering she was getting her heart broken every single day that Kara wouldn’t look her way. 

But to know how stupid she’s been? To realize that the flutter of her heart whenever Supergirl was near was her brain telling her it was Kara? 

There was no word for that. 

“I think, I kept rejecting the idea of Supergirl being Kara you know?” Lena huffs out, laughs drily, “Imagine how fucking painful it would be, Alex, if Supergirl was my soul mate. This person who didn’t trust me wholly, who lies behind my back, imagine if she was my soul mate? It would have felt humiliating. My body knew better, though,” she admitted sadly. 

“When Lex told me, all the little painful outbursts every time Supergirl flew away? It made sense. Everything made sense, but at the same time? Everything hurt too.”

She tried hurting her back. Created Hope. Experimented with Q-waves. Foolishly used Myriad. Teamed up with Lex.

But even through all of those? The separation pain never knocked her out. 

Even when they were fighting, Kara was still always around. Even when the world—the fucking multiverse got reset. The pain wasn’t enough to knock her out. Not like today. 

Because Kara was always lingering around convincing her not to join Lex, crossing paths in CatCo, flying into her home even if it was to call her a villain. 

All of those interactions were still sustenance for Lena. 

But this? This separation? This knowledge that Kara was somewhere out there, unreachable. That she could be lightyears away in space and it has been two weeks since Lena had last saw her, it has her every molecule shouting to go find Kara. 

“It’s never been like this before,” Lena confesses, “I thought I could do it without-”

“Help?” Alex supplies and Lena finally turns to her and she feels a hand squeeze her. 

“Yeah.” She mutters back softly. 

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Luthor. You’re part of the team now whether you like it or not. We are going to help you, we’re going to find a temporary solution for that pain and then we’ll get back to work and we’ll find Kara.”

[bibbawrites]

Family Ties - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (16+)

Request: Can you please do one where either Charlie is meeting your family or you’re meeting his and he keeps trying to be touchy/wanting to have sex but you/him don’t want to get caught xx

Word Count: 1721 words 

Summary: your annual family trip gets a little bit more hands on when your boyfriend Charlie and his family join you

Warnings: heavy makeout, touching, a little bit of grinding, swearing, mentioned and implied sex 

A/N: sorry if this editing is shit my brain is not working lol  hopefully y’all like this one, ive been debating on rewriting it for what feels like years but fuck it i dont have that motivation lol  also idk if theres beaches in canada like what we have here in aus but if there isnt oh well in this fictional version of canada they have aussie beaches  anyways, enjoy! 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes​​ @littlemissaddict​​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​​ @headheartbellarke​​ @lovesanimals​​ @bartok-the-magnificent​​ @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @katrina765​​ @fandomxreaders​​​ @ifilwtmfc

It had all started when you had jokingly suggested that you should invite your boyfriend Charlie and his family along on your annual family trip to the beach. Your mother had agreed, and before you knew it she was on the phone to Charlie’s mother working the whole plan out. 

Your family lives in Quebec, and Charlie’s in Dieppe, so your mum’s quickly decided that your family would drive to his house, and then the two families would continue the rest of the way together.

So that’s how you ended up in your dad’s old truck, pulling into the driveway of the Gillespie house at 6am in the morning after almost 8 hours of driving.

You jumped out quickly, wanting to get away from your brother’s annoying rap music and your sister’s constant whining about being bored as quickly as you could. The front door of Charlie’s house swung open and within a few seconds you were being pulled into the arms of your boyfriend, inhaling his familiar scent.

“God I missed you.” He murmured into your shoulder and you grinned.

“I missed you more handsome.” You replied, exchanging a soft kiss. 

Charlie’s family joined him outside and after a few quick introductions, you were on your way to the beach, this time tucked away in the passenger’s seat of Charlie’s car. 

- 

Once you arrived your families spent the day at the beach, and Charlie couldn’t keep his hands off of you. By the time you finally headed off to bed you were certain that every other person in the house was sick of his touchy behaviour. 

You made yourself comfortable on the bed, watching Charlie as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“I don’t think your dad likes me that much.” He said with a giggle, flopping down onto the bed. You rolled over to look at him.

“He’d like you a lot more if you stopped looking at me and touching me like you want to fuck me at every free moment you have.” You stated, and a light blush appeared on Charlie’s cheeks.

“You think he noticed that?” He asked, pressing his nose against yours.

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t. You haven’t been subtle at all. We’ve only been here for the day and you’ve tried to jump me three times and that’s not even counting the shower sex.” He grinned cheekily at your words.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so hot.” He whined, and you rolled your eyes.

“But we’re on a holiday with both of our families. You gotta tone down the horny.” You said. He sighed dramatically.

“Fine, I’ll try to be better tomorrow. But for now, we’re all alone... and it’s our first night...” He trailed off, pouting, his eyes dark with lust. You nodded once and that was all the consent he needed, crashing his lips against yours and making quick work of climbing on top of you and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned, your fingers scraping down his back as he grinded his hips into yours. 

“Fuck.” You mumbled against his lips, your hands finding a place in his hair. You tugged lightly on his hair causing him to moan into your mouth. 

“Hey Y/N?” Your mum’s voice called. 

“Shit.” You exclaimed, pushing Charlie off you. Not expecting the reaction, he jumped slightly, falling off the edge of the bed with a thud. 

You giggled as your mum opened the door, frowning as she took in the sight. 

“Charlie, why are you on the floor?” She questioned. You laughed harder. 

“Fell.” He replied simply, rolling over to stand up, climbing back onto the bed. 

“What’s up Mum?” You asked, hoping that you didn’t look like you had been making out with your boyfriend only moments ago. 

“Did you remember to grab the bag of board games? We were going to play Monopoly.” She said, leaning against the door. You nodded. 

“I put it in the little den room.” You told her and she smiled. 

“Thanks Hon, you two are welcome to join us if you’d like.” She invited. Charlie shook his head. 

“We’re good thanks Mrs Y/L/N. My mum is scary good at Monopoly so I’d rather not lose to her again.” He grinned and your mum returned the smile. 

“Well the offer is there if you want it.” She said, before leaving the room. You let out a sigh of relief. 

“That was a close one.” You mumbled. Charlie nodded, leaning in to kiss you again. You pulled back, giving him an incredulous look. 

“Really? You’re still horny after being interrupted by my mum and monopoly?” You asked. Charlie pouted. 

“A bit.” He admitted. You rolled your eyes at him, pushing him away. He whined but gave in, curling up next to you instead. 

“Tomorrow night.” You said, flicking the tv on. Charlie snuggled his face into your upper back. 

“You promise?” He mumbled against your skin. You nodded. 

“I promise. But only if you’re good during the day.” You bargained. He thought for a moment before humming in agreement. 

“Deal.”

- 

“This is not being good.” You whispered to Charlie as his hand crawled up your thigh at lunch the next day. 

It was tradition for your family to get lunch at your favourite restaurant on the second day, and you had barely been there twenty minutes when Charlie started to get fidgety. 

“I’m not doing anything.” He lied, giving you an innocent smile. 

“Bullshit.” You muttered in reply, and Charlie shook his head, making a disapproving sound. 

“Language.” He faked disappointment. 

“Fuck you.” You rolled your eyes. He gave you a flirty smile. 

“Oh I wish you would.” He teased, his voice deepening slightly. 

“Charles.” You warned, and he sighed, sitting back up again, his hand returning to your knee. 

“Remember our deal?” You said quietly, and he nodded. 

“How could I forget, I’m so sexually frustrated I might explode.” He admitted. You stared at him in disbelief.  

“We literally had sex yesterday evening.” You whispered, your voice hushed. Charlie nodded, eyes wide. 

“Exactly! It’s almost been a whole 24 hours.” He sighed. 

“A whole 24 hours since what?” Meghan questioned, and you choked on a mouthful of fish, grabbing your glass of Coke quickly to wash it down. 

“None of your business.” Charlie retorted. “Stop eavesdropping.” 

“Don’t have private conversations around other people then.” Meghan bit back, but dropped the conversation anyway. Charlie gave you a relieved look. 

“That was close.” You muttered. 

“You’re telling me. Almost enough to get rid of the semi in my pants.” He winked and you hit his arm.

“Charles. Stop it.” You reprimanded. He grinned cheekily. 

“You love me.” He sung, placing a wet kiss on your cheek. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

“I’m reconsidering.” 

- 

“So what were you and Charlie discussing at lunch that was so private?” Meghan questioned, once you, her and your sister Isabella were alone sunbathing later that afternoon. You cringed slightly. 

“You don’t want to know.” You replied. 

“Oh god was it a sex thing?” Isabella gasped, and Meghan’s eyes widened in fear. You blushed. 

“I told you that you didn’t want to know.” You said simply, and they both squealed in disgust. 

“Do mum and dad know that you’re sleeping with Charlie?” Isabella asked after a pause. You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m a fully grown adult Bel, I don’t need parental permission to have sex with my boyfriend.” You told her. Meghan fake gagged. 

“Can we not talk about this? I do not want to think about my brother having sex.” She begged. You grinned slightly. 

“You were the one who brought it up.” You said. Meghan sighed. 

“If I’d known it was a sex thing I would have never.” She replied. 

“With Charlie it’s always a sex thing.” You answered. 

Meghan and Isabella groaned in unison as you giggled, flopping back into your chair. 

You really needed to get some girl friends who weren’t your sister and your boyfriend’s sister.

- 

“Was I good today?” Charlie questioned, jumping onto the bed next to you as you scrolled through Instagram that night. 

You put you phone down, pretending to think. 

“Well, you tried to tease me at lunch and then tried to discuss it, which then led to me having a very awkward conversation with our sisters about our sex life. So I’m gonna go with no.” You said. Charlie’s eyes widened. 

“Y/N!” He gasped. “You can’t do that to me.” 

“Why not? I told you to be good and you weren’t so that’s on you.” You replied, returning to scrolling on your phone. Charlie placed his head on your chest, pouting.

“But...” He trailed off. You raised an eyebrow.

“But what?” You questioned. He sighed loudly.

“But I’m so horny.” He complained. You rolled your eyes.

“That sounds like a you problem.” You replied.

“Baby.” Charlie whined, dragging out the ‘y’. “I’m gonna get blue balls, do you want that?” 

“You’ve got hands. And I know you know how to use them.” You said. He sat up, giving you his infamous puppy eyes.  

“Please?” He asked. You stared at him, not wiling to budge.

“Your sex drive is frankly disturbing Gillespie.” You told him.

“I know.” He agreed, batting his eyes at you. “Please?” 

You groaned.

“Fine.” You said. His eyes widened.

“Really?” He questioned, a grin appearing on his face.

“Yes. Quickly, before I change my mind.” You nodded. Charlie moved forward but paused.

“Wait.” He said. You frowned.

“What now?” You questioned, your tone clearly showing your exasperation. 

“You want to do this, right? I’m not making you do anything you don’t want to be doing?” He asked, suddenly serious, and your frown fell as your heart filled with love for the boy in front of you and the fact that he was still asking for consent despite how desperately horny he claimed to be. You lent in, kissing him gently. 

“I promise you’re not forcing me to do anything I don’t want to do.” You said softly.

“You’re sure?” He checked. You nodded. 

“Positive.” You reassured him. He grinned. 

“I love you.” He whispered, leaning closer. 

“I love you too.” You replied. 

And with that Charlie pulled you towards him, ready to show you just how much he really loved you. 

[andromedasstarship]

i could not choose between 77-80 so i overbearingly ask u to use each of them with spencer reid if u wish 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

80. “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.” + 77- “If you want to leave, we can leave.”

send a prompt + character from this list! 

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - stress?? mostly fluff 

a/n - tysm kenna for requesting this i love you and i loved writing this. i also went overboard on this one bye! ive also never posted something this long in an ask reply before so if this looks weird BYE!

Your car had long gone cold, but you still couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself out yet. It was futile to try and wrestle your emotions into a tightly sealed box; as soon as you crossed the threshold of the town-home you shared with Spencer, you knew he’d be able to read you like a book. Damn genius profiler skills.

Taking a quick look at the time you knew you had to suck it up and go inside; you were pushing how ‘late’ you could be without him worrying something had happened on your commute home. With a deep sigh, you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and exited the car; taking your sweet time with locking the car behind you and digging your house keys out of the bottom of your bag.

To put it simply, it had been a difficult year. It was the final year of your Phd. program and while- all things considered- you had had an amazing time, the past few months had been both physically and mentally draining. What was once your lifelong passion had suddenly started to feel like a chore; a chore you felt you weren’t even good at anymore. Almost every day was spent either in your own classes or teaching undergrads. Almost every night was spent on the final edits of your thesis or grading work from your students. The few moments of freedom you found were spent doing the boring parts of adult life: housekeeping, getting your car fixed, calling elderly family members, etc.

Neither of you had formerly addressed it, but you knew it was taking a toll on your relationship. Spencer being busy was a constant, but it was normally balanced out by your typical 9-5 schedule. But recently, even on the nights he was home you’d be too wrapped up in your own work to even sit down and eat dinner with him. By the time you crawled into bed he’d be long asleep and in the mornings you’d been leaving for work earlier and earlier in order to get research time in at the university library. It felt like the two of you hadn’t even been awake in the same room for weeks, let alone do anything relationship-y.

Tonight was supposed to change that. Kind of. His team was having a fancy dinner to celebrate some major milestone that you couldn’t remember. It’d been on the books for months, but kept getting pushed back by surprise cases. It felt like everyone held their breath this week, waiting for a case to pop up, but instead everyone was left pleasantly surprised when no such thing happened. It was going to be a great night: classic Rossi pasta dish, all partners and kids invited. Even though the two of you wouldn’t be alone, it’d still be a perfectly good excuse to get out, put on some nice outfits and have a fun evening with friends.

Spencer had been particularly excited. The past week, you felt as if it was the only thing he ever talked about. Not that the two of you were having extensive conversations. He kept talking about how great it would be to get out of the house and how much he was looking forward to having a totally work free evening. His excitement warmed your heart.

Which is why you were taking so long to find your keys. Today had been one of the hardest day you’d experienced in a long time. The thesis meeting you had with your advisor- that you’d been staying up late every night editing for- had gone horribly; it was as if everything you prepared was wrong. Almost every student in the class you taught scored poorly on the latest assessment- on a unit you considered yourself an expert on-, something you viewed as a failure of your ability to convey the info. And to top it all off, even though you felt as if you’d spent hours upon hours working yourself to the bone the past week- in order to clear space for tonight-, you still felt as if you had piles of work to catch up on.

You knew the stress and tension of the day would read clear on your body as soon as Spencer got a look at you. And with how excited he’d been, you absolutely didn’t want to ruin the dinner. You’d hate for him to feel as if you were being selfish or that you couldn’t even prioritize him in your schedule.

You took one last deep breath, before going to put the key into the doorknob. Just as you touched the handle, the door swung open from the other side.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, one hand clutching your chest as you nearly jumped out of your skin. In front of you was Spencer, smiling down at you with that irresistible grin of his.

“Did I scare you? Sorry. I thought I heard you car pull up earlier and when you didn’t come in I thought maybe something was wrong so I wanted to come check-”

You quickly cut him off- even though you did find his worrying a bit endearing- by pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

“A good song came on just as I pulled in, couldn’t just get out.” You lied, adding a small laugh for effect. It was an on brand situation for you, something certainly believable. If Spencer had any doubts, he didn’t question you, simply moved out of the doorframe so you could step in.

Inside the house, you set your bag down by the front door like you always did. While kicking your shoes off, you pulled your jacket off, smiling when Spencer had his hands already open to hang it on the rack. You knew he had that ridiculous memory- and you had a pretty set routine-, but it still made your heart swell every time he anticipated your next move and went the extra mile to be helpful.

“So, how was your day?" Spencer asked, as the two of you made your way to the kitchen area. “What’d Professor Addams have to say in your meeting?”

You clenched at the handle of the fridge, grinding your teeth before pulling the door open. When you turned to look at Spencer, you saw he made himself comfortable on one of the countertop stools.

“Went well. They gave me some uh, um, some comprehensive revisions.” You said flatly, turning back to face the fridge; missing the skeptical look Spencer was throwing you.

“That’s good?” He said slowly, before adding, “well how was class? You just wrapped up the last unit didn’t you?” You both knew he knew the answer, but was just attempting to further the conversation. Had it been any other day you would’ve found it endearing, but today just wasn’t that day.

You slammed the fridge door shut, just hard enough to be cause for concern. “I thought tonight was absolutely no shop talk. Huh? Why don’t we just start that rule now.” You said, a slight edge to your voice. It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault.

“Are you okay-”

“Yes! I just don’t-”

“If there’s something wrong, you know you can tell-”

“There’s nothing wrong-”

“Do you need to stay-”

“Stop!” You exclaimed, bringing an end to the constant cutting each other off. “Everything is fine. Okay?” You said, unable to maintain eye contact.

Spencer slowly nodded, though you could tell he didn’t believe an ounce of what you had just said. Luckily for you, he seemed to let it go, falling back in his seat.

“I’m gonna go shower and get ready and then we can leave, alright?” You asked rhetorically. When he just nodded again, you very quickly walked up to him and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

---

The ride to Rossi’s was silent, something that normally wouldn’t have bothered either of you had it not been for the borderline argument you had in the kitchen. As you pulled up a few cars down from the house, you caught Spencer staring at you from the passenger seat, a slightly concerned look on his face.

“Stop doing that.” You huffed out, but there was no real bite in your voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked gently, reaching out to push a piece of your hair away from your face. God that was sweet.

You quickly nodded and threw a very forced smile his way, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m fine. I promise, come on.” You said, killing the engine and pushing open your car door.

Before you could fully open the door, Spencer’s arm shot out across your body and pulled the door back shut with a bang.

“Spencer!” You yelped, startled by his sudden movement. You turned and gave him a bewildered look.

“You always look over my head when you lie.” Spencer stated.

“Oh I do not-” You started, but letting the sentence fall flat as soon as you realized you currently were looking over his head.

“Your favorite song came on the radio, twice, on the drive here and you didn’t react at all either times.” He said. When you still didn’t say anything he continued. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me.”

The look he was giving you was making you feel all sorts of guilty. Of course he cared, that’s why you loved him so much. You just didn’t want to ruin something that’d been in the works for so long, all because you had a bad day.

“Spencer,” you started, giving him a very pointed look and making sure to hold eye contact, “I’m fine. Can we just go in?”

Spencer shook his head, externally searching your face for more clues while also internally thinking back to any clues from your kitchen fight. “We aren’t going anywhere, until you talk to me.” He urged.

It probably wasn’t the best move on his part, seeing as you both were incredibly stubborn. The two of you were unrelenting, both staring blankly at the other; hoping the other one would break first. After nearly 5 minutes of silence, it became very clear that neither of you were standing down anytime soon.

Spencer reached his hand out again, gently cupping your cheek; internally you cursed your body’s natural reaction to lean into his touch. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice much softer than earlier.

You were internally screaming over how caring he was. Damn him! You cursed yourself for not being able to just play the role of perfect partner for one night.

“I’m exhausted.” You said, voice quiet. “My meeting went horrible day. I absolutely failed at teaching my students the last unit. I’ve been bringing so much work back to the house I haven’t even been able to give you a second of attention. And now we have this dinner that you’ve been looking forward to for months and I don’t want to ruin-”

This time, it was Spencer that quickly cut off your rambles with a kiss.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, as if it were the most simple thing ever

You gave him a shocked look. “Spencer, you’ve been talking about this dinner for weeks. I, I can’t ask you to put this off, you and the team rarely get time to-”

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” He said. His voice was so sincere it made the whole thing that much more difficult. He was too good.

“Spencer, no.” You said, putting special emphasis on the ‘no’. “We haven’t even walked in the door, there’s nothing to leave yet. I’m not going to ruin the dinner we’ve all been planning on for months. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

He didn’t answer, instead pulled his phone out and quickly started to type out a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Rossi, I’m gonna tell him you aren’t feeling well and we can’t come anymore.”

“We’re outside his house! It’s not a big deal-!

“Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner!” Spencer cut you off, giving you a very pointed look. You weren’t sure your heart could take the swelling much longer.

“Spencer, you’ve been planning-”

“I don’t want to hear it-”

“You’ve wanted to get out of the house for so long!” You stressed, giving him a ‘duh’ look.

“We can go do something else!” He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just us, no pressure to be ‘on’ in front of anyone else.” That did sound good- No!

“I’m not gonna be the one who keeps their boyfriend away from his friends-”

“I see them every day. Every day. One dinner means nothing.” Spencer said confidently, clasping your hand tightly between his.

You contemplated for what seemed like hours; though it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.” Spencer said, giving you a very mock serious look; you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “There you are.” He said, smiling to match yours.

You turned the car on, clicking your seatbelt back into place. “So, where to pretty boy?” You asked.

“Well, I heard of this new ice cream place that just opened up. Their ‘claim to fame’ is they make over 50 flavors in store every single day. Did you know on average it takes nearly three hours from start to finish to make a single batch of ice cream? Or that when ice cream-”

You shook your head in amusement, chancing a couple glances in his direction as you were driving. You loved his excited ramblings and animated hand motions as he further explained the history of ice cream; as well as all the random facts about the place he was directing you to. As you got closer to your new destination, all you could think about was how lucky you were to, to be loved by someone who always knew just what to say.

---

permanent tags - @sunflowersandotherthings

[lumosinlove]

Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Marlene got into college and hasn’t told Dorcas because she’s scared of how she will react.

Lily and James had sex and obviously like each other, but Lily is scared to have attachments on Hogwarts when they’re going to college soon.

Leo and Logan question each other about their pasts without much progress. Logan finds out that Leo hopes to own The Lion restaurant one day, and that his father’s death has something to do with “The Voldemort.”

Saint and Sirius talk about leaving the island and how they met when they were eleven years old. They have sex and avoid more difficult topics.

James and Lily meet at the Gryffindor Club as promised. Lily tells James that she doesn’t want anything tying her to the island, that she hates the fake boundaries that Hogwarts has and that James isn’t crossing them as much as he thinks he is. James understands, even though it hurts.

Saint and Sirius are cleaning the Potter’s pool when James arrives with Remus and Luke. Remus and Sirius have a tense moment in the kitchen, Luke and Saint argue, and Sirius finds out that it’s Remus who sails the Wolfsbane every morning—Remus thus finding out that Sirius notices.

Logan returns to the Carrows to hand over his money and stock up on Crucio. We find out that he works for them in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out of Saint Clair, only the Carrows are angry with him for using their Crucio—they say that Logan owes them now.

Logan heads over to Saint Clair to watch Finn from afar, and swears again that he will rescue him.

part iv

Remus closed his eyes, soaking in the morning sun and the salty air. The wind pushed his hair back as he tightened the rigging, catching the wind. Sometimes his sails felt like his bare hands. Like he finally had something to hold onto, even if it blistered his palms. The sea made him feel alone, in the best way. Usually, it felt like people were always around. He couldn’t go anywhere without running into at least two people from school, or his parents’ friends. Yes, he’s excited for college, no, he’s not sure exactly yet, yes, he’s still sailing, yes, he’s still obsessed, yes, he remembers learning at Gryffindor Club, sure, I’ll tell my mom you say hi.

Solidarity was less exhausting.

The wind buffered and he sighed as he slowed down. he looked back towards Shack Beach. Saint had said they saw him every morning—that Sirius saw him every morning. He wondered if Sirius was watching now.

He couldn’t see anything from this far away. Part of him wondered if he could make this island disappear completely, just for a moment. But it was dangerous to stray that far. Even The Cradle, the small U of islands just off of Hogwarts’ southern coast, was pushing it. Remus huffed out a laugh as he managed the ropes to come about, back towards shore. If that wasn’t a metaphor, he didn’t know what was.

Things on Hogwarts had become complicated in what felt like overnight, even though Remus knew that wasn’t true. They were older now. They didn’t just care about summer vacation. There was college to think about, and then jobs. Hogwarts wasn’t the dream it once was. Remus wanted to see mountains, and huge cities, or snow—and not just for a week on vacation. He wanted to belong somewhere because he wanted to be there, and not just because he had grown up there. He was tired of knowing everything there was to know.

He tied up his Wolfsbane on autopilot, stroking his hand over the side before tugging his shirt over his head and jumping straight into the water. It was cooler from the night, but it was what Remus needed. He held his breath as he found the sandy bottom, his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn’t have to be anywhere. He got to enjoy the ocean and its predictable changes.

When he came up for air, he remembered why he loved this island. That still didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave.

“Are you headed to the museum, sweetheart?” his mother said when Remus came down to the kitchen, freshly showered. He preferred to let the salt linger all day, but he figured he should be fresh for his first day of work.

“Yeah,” Remus held up his keys. “Just looking for some coffee first.”

His mom held up a mug for him, laughing. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“How was it this morning?”

Remus poured some milk into his cup. “It was good. Sun’s going to be strong today. Went near The Cradle—not too far, don’t worry.”

“You know me too well,” Hope laughed, whisking some eggs into a lather. “Well, it’s pizza night. We’re ordering in so, if you want to have some friends over and take it to the den, that’s fine with me. But don’t complain if Jules crashes the party.”

Remus nodded. “Actually, I think we’re going out. If that’s all right?”

Hope nodded. “All right, sure. Be safe, though. Who, uh…”

“James and Luke,” Remus sighed. “Mom—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“It’s not Luke’s fault,” Remus continued anyway. “His dad, I mean. He didn’t know.”

“I know that,” Hope sighed. “But…Even I can see that boy’s hurting and I barely see him at all.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with his friends?” Remus said.

Hope raised her eyebrows at him, and Remus raised his own right back.

“All right, all right,” Hope said. “You’re gonna be late, I’ll see you later, baby.”

Remus knew he should take the car his parents had given him. He knew he should get used to driving, knew his dad wondered why it just sat in the garage. But here, on the island, Remus liked his bicycle. He liked the warm breeze. It reminded him of being out on the water.

Which, in turn, now reminded him of Sirius Black.

When Remus remembered Sirius, he mostly remembered bruised cheeks and nasty looking cuts. He remembered the hushed way people used to whisper about him, and how, even when he was loud, grinning and well-liked, he was still from Salazar. Sometimes he had eaten lunch surrounded by people, and sometimes he had eaten it alone with his brother.

Remus didn’t understand this island. Was Sirius really so different because he was born a few miles South rather than North? It made no sense—only it did, but only because it was all Remus had ever known.

The Hogwarts History Museum was a pride of the island. Remus knew it well from school trips, and from his own interest. He’d spent many Saturdays there as a kid, gazing at all of the small models of ships and dreaming about what it would be like to sail them, wishing they weren’t trapped behind glass—feeling a little like he was trapped behind glass. A ship in a bottle.

“Hi there, Remus,” Layla smiled at him, green eyes kind and skin a rich, dark brown against the pale pink scarf in her hair.

“Hi, Layla,” Remus smiled. “Having a good summer so far?”

“Sure,” Layla shrugged. “Lots of time here. I saw you win the sailing race last Sunday, congrats.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. It was real fun. Sorry I beat your brother, though.”

“Oh, Lyle doesn’t mind,” Layla waved a hand. Her nails were painted pink, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus had been friends with Layla since they were little, competing for best in class usually. She was wicked smart and mellow. Remus could always use some mellow, good conversation—especially with James being James and Luke being…well, whatever Luke was now. Layla liked history, and her family owned the museum, which meant Layla told tales that were, albeit tall, fun to listen to.

Remus leaned against the desk, looking around. “This place never changes, huh?”

Layla laughed, clicking a pen. “History doesn’t tend to change that much, R, and so neither do we. Unlike the world out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing ever feels too different out there,” Remus laughed, too. “But I guess you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, though. Or else I’d be sitting behind this desk by myself.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Layla nodded. “What made you take the job?”

Remus snorted as he rounded the corner, picking up his name badge where Beatrice, Layla’s mother and the museum curator, said it would be. “Don’t pretend we didn’t see each other here when we were little all the time. Not to mention at Gryffindor Club. You, obviously.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Me and your mom.”

Remus winced and Layla laughed.

“C’mon, we both know you’d be out on your boat all day if it was up to you.”

Remus laughed. “Fine. But seriously. You’re a perk.”

Layla nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Just a couple of history buffs, I guess.”

Remus shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

The day was pretty slow. A few tourists here and there, taking photo behind the cardboard cutouts that made you look like you were dressed as a sailor, or a pirate.

“Are there really pirates here?” one little girl had asked Layla.

Remus had smiled when Layla crouched down and whispered to her, “careful, there’s one there,” and pointed at Remus.

When lunch rolled around, Remus expected Layla to pull out a bagged sandwich like him, but instead she scoffed and picked up her bag.

“Come on. We have to get out for a bit.”

Remus shrugged. “All right, where to?”

“The Lion, of course,” Layla replied. “It’s the best food on the island.”

“The Lion,” Remus repeated slowly. “You mean—in The Hollow?”

Layla gave him a look. “Oh, you’re not one of those are you?”

“One of what?” Remus said. “No. I’m not, I just… c’mon, you hear things.”

“Hear things? You’ve never been?”

“Once,” Remus swallowed, thinking of the fight. “It didn’t really go well.”

Layla just shook her head.

“History is just one great field of stories, Remus. You’ll never get to the truth unless you listen to them all.”

And so Remus found himself riding alongside Layla on their bikes and right through Gryffindor. The Hollow didn’t have a sign or anything, but you knew when you were in it. Remus almost wished he had been able to see some sort of line to cross, but everything was just suddenly different. Low houses with open doors, people gathered together and laughing. Kids running with surfboards over their heads, towards Shack Beach. It had seemed even more vibrant in the dark the night of the party, even through the tinted windows of Luke’s car. String lights hung over cookouts, and music blasting from speakers. It had smelled amazing, and Remus would have to say Layla was probably right about the food. 

The Lion was just as bright as everything else. It was bustling with lunch-goers, and the doors were flung wide, letting the heat right in. Remus looked around at the people. Some tourists, obviously. Some not. Hollows. Some of them smiled when they caught Remus’ eye, and some narrowed their eyes.

“Hi, Leo, babe,” Layla said as she slid onto a stool at the counter.

There was a blond boy behind it wearing a tank top and a snapback. He smiled as he set some shrimp down in a frier. “Hey, Layla, babe, ça va?”

“Just working. At least I’ve got Remus for company now.”

Remus smiled awkwardly when Leo fixed his blue eyes on him. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for. Something terrible to happen?

Leo only held out a hand. “Leo, nice to meet you.”

“Remus,” Remus said, and took it. He tried not to look at the rainbow bracelet on Leo’s wrist for too long, but he could tell Leo had felt the way his hand tightened. “Yeah—you, too.”

Leo touched it briefly, like an old habit, as he pulled away, giving another smile to Remus.

It didn’t necessarily mean Leo wasn’t straight, but on such a small island, Remus tended to notice these things. He and Luke had figured each other out pretty fast around sixteen. They’d kissed. Once. And then winced, laughed, and shoved each other in the pool. Sometimes Remus wished he and Luke had worked. He didn’t see any other boys coming his way. Leo was smiling at him like he knew what Remus was thinking.

“What can I get you two?” Leo asked.

A boyfriend? Remus thought wistfully.

“Two of your specials, please,” Layla said. “Re, you’re going to lose your mind it’s so good.”

“What’s your special?” Remus asked.

Leo shrugged, but he was grinning. “Like a chef ever gives up his secrets—”

Leo had stopped mid-sentence, eyes going over their shoulders towards the door. Remus turned to look, and a moment later, a brown haired boy was slinging a backpack down carefully between his feet and taking the seat beside Remus.

“Well, look who’s back,” Leo said to him.

The boy glanced at Remus and Layla, then gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Leo snorted. “Yeah,” he parroted. “You’re just hungry.”

The boy shrugged again.

Leo sighed, and gave Remus a look that said, can you believe this? before turning back to the stove. “This is Logan guys. Apparently he doesn’t talk today. Three specials. Coming up.”

~

Logan didn’t recognize the boy sitting at the counter. He didn’t recognize the girl either. Then again, he didn’t recognize many people. He didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—if that even counted. And Leo. If that counted, either.

The Felix was heavy in his pack, wedged protectively between his feet, and he wished the strangers would leave so that Leo would talk to him. He hadn’t said two words that weren’t him making sure that Logan liked his food, and asking him where he’d been.

Logan was a little annoyed with him for asking that question. It wasn’t like Leo didn’t know what Logan did. Then again, Leo didn’t know why Logan did what he did.

“You guys get the new madness exhibit up yet, Layla?” Leo was asking the girl with the scarf in her hair. “The one you were telling me about.”

The sandy-haired boy looked up from his food. “The madness exhibit?”

The girl—Layla—cocked her head. “Remus, you…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” the boy—Remus—replied.

Layla sat up a little, looking suddenly awkward. “Your mom donated almost everything we have. I mean…it is your family that’s famous for…”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Losing their fucking minds?”

Layla winced. “Well, yeah, okay, poor choice of words on my part. But madness isn’t always a bad thing, you know. People say people are crazy all the time. Sometimes they’re just extraordinary.”

Remus looked back down at his food. “My family’s not extraordinary, believe me.”

“Usually extraordinary-ness belongs to one person, I’d say,” Leo said. “My mom’s pretty extraordinary. Doesn’t mean I am.”

“You want to stay on this island, don’t you?” Logan found himself saying. Then, he felt his neck heat and he turned down to his food.

“What’s so extraordinary about that?” Layla replied at the same time as Remus said, “You do?”

Leo just laughed, rolling his eyes at Logan. “I’m with Layla on this one, guys, sorry.”

“What about you, Logan?” Layla asked. “I want the museum after I go to college. At least I think I do. Leo wants The Lion, Remus wants to sail the world…” Remus blushed at that, and Layla’s eyes were very green. “What do you want to do?”

Logan found it strange that they were treating him like that. So normally. Logan knew his necklace was on display. It was easier than explaining why people hadn’t seen him around and pretending to be a tourist. That lead to questions. Being abandoned didn’t. And he was. He was abandoned. People didn’t ask. Most probably thought he had just aged out. People didn’t ask. It was better that way. Logan didn’t have any answers. All he had was the memory of that last night with Finn. Finn had returned to their room, eyes wild and voice urgent.

Come on, Lo, wake up. Wake up, Logan, we have to go. Now.

Logan had felt helplessly awake in the first weeks of being out. He was still sorting through what that meant.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m—looking for someone first.”

Remus sighed and mumbled. “Aren’t we all.”

“You are?” Leo asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Or, not looking. I’m just…I’m waiting for someone.”

He knew where Finn was, but Logan knew that he could wait forever and he wouldn’t come. Logan had to take what he wanted. It was a lesson he was learning fast.

“Oh,” Remus replied. “Um…cool. I hope you find them.”

Logan just nodded.

“Well, we should head out,” Layla said, rising. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Sure thing, just pay up front,” Leo smiled. “See you later, Layla.” He nodded at Remus. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Remus smiled back. “The food was great.”

Logan watched Leo watch them leave, then snort. “That guy looked more spooked than a horse with a snake.”

“Isn’t that what Gods are supposed to look like?” Logan replied.

Leo shrugged. “Usually you can’t see their eyes behind their aviators.”

Logan laughed a little. “Right.” he looked back down at his food, realizing he had begun picking his fries apart, rather than eating them.

“I’m looking for someone too, you know,” Leo broke the silence.

Logan did. Only, he hadn’t thought about it like that. Leo’s dad and Finn. Leo’s dad was probably dead. Finn wasn’t.

“I hope you find him,” Logan replied. “Your dad.”

The Lion was in full swing now, the lunchtime rush loud and boisterous. Leo had a tank top on, and Logan thought he looked a little tired. Sleeplessness showed easily on his skin.

“Do you have to run?” Leo asked instead of responding. “And hide? Like, from the police?”

Logan sat up, instinctively looking behind him. “I assumed I would have to. But…it hasn’t been that difficult.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I guess I keep overestimating how much people actually care about me. Maybe I should have learned something by now.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong people,” Leo said quickly, and looked up with a smile, a small one, then down again. “I know a few others who got out. They don’t seem to have trouble, so, you know, if you needed a job or something, you could work in my mom’s workshop. With me. Or here. I’m sure Celeste and Pascal would be all right with it.”

Logan felt taken off guard. “Oh. I…” he thought of the powder packets in his bag. Of the Carrows. How much do you think you owe us by now?

Others? he wanted to ask. What others? 

“Just think about it,” Leo said, and turned towards one of the stove tops to check on some boiling water.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“It’s a boat,” Leo began suddenly, answering Logan’s yet unasked question. The Voldemort. What his father had been looking for. It was almost like Leo was thanking him for telling the truth about his situation. An eye for an eye. A truth for a truth. Logan sort of liked that consistency. “Was a boat. In the eighteenth century.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Biggest story on Hogwarts,” Leo said. “Ten thousand pieces of gold, all fallen to the depths of the ocean just off of Hogwarts’ shores…and never seen again.”

“But if it’s just off the shore…”

Leo smiled a little, shaking his head. “But you have to know where off the shore. Otherwise, you have a whole circumference of miles and miles of open water to work with.”

“And your dad figured it out?”

Leo shrugged, expression closing off a little. “He thought he did.” He cleared his throat as he put an order on the counter for a waiter to take away, and ripped another piece of paper down from the line up to look at. “The Cradle. You know it?”

Logan shook his head.

“It’s a sort of…horse shoe shaped cluster of islands, just off of our southern tip.”

“Salazar,” Logan said quietly.

Leo nodded. “Salazar.”

“Your dad was a treasure hunter,” Logan said slowly. “He was looking for a treasure.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, flipping a crab cake in sizzling oil. “He was.”

“And did he find it? Do you want to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Leo whispered, busy hands stilling. “He never came home.”

Logan nodded.

“He wanted to find it,” Leo said softly. “Really badly. And I… I feel like I should.”

“And was he close?”

Leo glanced up from his knife. “Yes.”

“Leonardo,” a voice came suddenly, entering the restaurant. “What does your mother feed you, you gorgeous specimen?”

Logan froze. He knew that voice.

Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at the newcomers. “Fuck off, Saint. Hey, Sirius.”

“Hi,” a second voice came, and it was closer, almost beside Logan at the bar.

Leo’s eyes caught on Logan’s again, probably meaning to introduce him, but he stopped instead.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

But Logan just shook his head, and then the newcomers—Saint and Sirius—were leaning against the bar. Logan felt the breath beside him catch just as his own had, and he turned to look.

Logan thought the boy standing beside him looked different. Older. More muscular. Squarer jaw. But the same. Same eyes. Same shock of blond hair. Same warm, brown skin.

“Logan?” Saint breathed, his eyes disbelieving.

Logan went to open his mouth, when Saint’s arms were around him suddenly.

“It’s Saint,” he said softly, just for Logan’s ears. He squeezed him tighter. “God, you’re here.”

“Saint?” Logan whispered into his shoulder. No one had touched him like this in what felt like forever.

“Yeah,” Saint said. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Logan shrugged. “I…yeah, okay.”

“Knutty,” Saint’s serious expression morphed into a grin. He leaned against the counter, keeping his palm on Logan. “Handsome as ever.”

Logan blinked at Saint, then at Leo. “Knutty?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Oh, Logan already knows not to do that,” Saint laughed. He tapped his cross necklace. “We’re practically brothers.”

“Oh,” Leo blinked. “Right.”

The other boy—Sirius—looked just as taken aback.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Saint called in a sing-song voice, looking at Sirius. “Order for us, won’t you? And get us a table? Logan,” Saint nodded towards the door. “Come hither.”

Logan was so thankful to see Saint, he nearly tripped while getting up. A familiar face. A familiar anything. Saint had gotten out almost seven years ago. He’d been there one day, in his bed, in classes, in the courtyard, and gone the next.

“Sweetheart?” Logan asked, glancing back inside at the dark-haired boy, Sirius.

Saint just put his hands on Logan’s arms, eyes more intent than Logan had ever seen them, then on Logan’s cheeks. “Holy shit, how did you get out?”

Logan felt his heart slow, then speed up. He swallowed dryly. “Finn. How did you?”

Saint ignored the question.

“Finn,” Saint repeated, nodding. “Of course. When?”

“About a month ago. And he—he’s still in there,” Logan said. “He’s…And I’m—”

“I hear you,” Saint said. He jerked his head over to the table. “Not now. Let’s get back.”

“Saint?” Logan asked again.

Saint rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone. For now.”

~

Saint hadn’t been ready. He hadn’t seen Logan in nine years, but he’d know his face anywhere. All eyelashes and sad, green eyes. A smile he wore with Finn only. He looked spooked now, and tired. They’d sat at the bar, watching one of Leo’s shifts go and another one come, then moved to a table. Watching it get dark outside now, Saint wondered where Logan had been living for a month.

He eyed the backpack that Logan held so protectively close, and thought of the way Dorcas did the same thing.

Saint had a bad feeling.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Sirius said, gesturing between Logan and Leo with a fry when Leo brought over more water.

“Party,” Leo shrugged after a moment of hesitation. “Shack Beach.” He jerked his head at Saint. “You two were there, judging by Sirius’ shiner. Could hear that fight at my house, probably.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I didn’t start it.”

“True,” Saint said, wondering how he had missed Logan that night. “Some God—albeit a beautiful one—thought we were selling Crucio.”

Saint flicked his eyes over to Logan. Sure enough, he blushed.

Saint cocked his head. “The horror. Dangerous stuff.”

Leo looked at Saint quietly, and glanced at Logan, then back to him. Saint nodded. Got it, it said.

“Well, would you look who it is,” said a deep voice from behind them, and then there were two strong arms around Saint and Sirius. Pascal placed a loud kiss on each of their heads.

“Eck,” Sirius laughed. “You smell like grease, old man.”

Pascal Dumais laughed. “Grease that feeds you, maybe. And who’s this?”

“Dumo, meet Logan,” Saint said. “Logan, meet Pascal. He owns the Lion with his wife, Celeste.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Pascal said, accent heavy. “Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Saint watched Pascal eye Logan’s necklace.

“We were together at Saint Clair,” he supplied.

“Maybe not so loud,” Logan said harshly. “Saint.”

“Oh?” Pascal said, and squinted at Logan. “Who are you with now, mon cher?”

Saint watched Logan open his mouth, frozen, and was about to speak up when—

“Me,” Leo cut in. He looked down at the carrots he was chopping as he said it. “Me and my mom.”

Oh, Saint thought.

“Oh, Leonardo,” Saint sighed. “Un ange.”

“Not my name,” Leo said.

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied to Pascal’s still questioning gaze. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Pascal nodded. “Well, I’m happy you and your mother will have a helping hand now. I miss your father dearly, mon fils.” He smiled sadly at Leo.

Leo just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Him and his treasure, eh?” Pascal said. “A wonderful man. I miss going out on that boat of his.”

Leo’s smile was small, but fond. “Those were some of his favorite mornings.”

“Treasure?” Sirius asked.

“Black!” a new voice shouted. “Thank fuck.”

Saint looked up when Sirius did. James and Remus were barreling towards them from the dark outside.

“Good lord,” Saint said. “Rain, from Olympus. Water my crops, why don’t you.”

“James?” Sirius said. “What are you—”

James and Remus walked right up to their table—Remus looking slightly more reluctant. “We have a question.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I mean, just…it’s a little out of your way, non?”

“Remus came here earlier, and when I told him—well, you’ll see—he said maybe you’d be here.”

Saint watched Sirius’ eyes narrow at Remus, confused. “Okay…”

“Well, it’s good to see you again, tweedle-hot,” Saint said to Remus. “Up close this time. We actually though you were going to sail right out of sight this morning.”

Sirius stepped on his toe beneath the table.

“Excuse me?” Remus choked out. “What the fuck did you—”

James blinked at Saint, then shook his head, as if to right his thoughts. “All right, setting every strange thing that comes out of your mouth aside for a moment —where is Dorcas?”

“Meadowes?” Logan chimed in.

James’ eyes turned on him. “You know her?”

Saint raised his hand. “I have the same question.”

“Well,” Logan hesitated. “Sure.”

“And she sells Felix,” James said, as if trying to confirm the information.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Says you.”

James sighed. “I’m not here to turn her in, Jesus, I just have a question.”

“Do…” Sirius was looking at Logan. “Do you sell…”

“What kind of question?” Saint cut in.

Remus spoke up. “A does-she-deal-to-Luke type of question.”

Saint laughed. “Deveaux?”

“You know who Luke is, Saint,” Remus sighed.

“Well, yeah I do, Lupin, he tried to buy off me,” Saint shook his head with a tisking sound. “Turns out he’s a prejudice piece of eye candy. Who knew.”

“Come on,” James sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Please, Sirius, come on.”

Sirius shrugged. “We don’t know who Dorcas deals to. We’re not involved.”

“If you did would you tell us?”

Sirius smiled, just a little. “Probably not. But I really don’t know.”

James sighed, sagging away from the table. He looked at Remus. “Fuck.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish here?” Sirius asked slowly.

“We—” Remus said, then sighed, too. “We were going to see if she would agree to stop. If it was her, if she would stop giving it to him.”

“We’d pay her,” James added. “Obviously.”

Saint scoffed, and Logan laughed a little, too, from beside him.

“Obviously,” Saint mimicked.

“We just meant—” Remus began.

“We know what you meant,” Sirius said.

Saint popped a fry into his mouth. “If we’ll clean your pools for a few bucks, we’ll grant you three wishes, too.”

“Jesus, Saint,” James groaned.

“Mary. Joseph—”

James ran his hands through his hair. “We’re sorry, we misspoke. We’re just trying to help our friend. His dad got taken to jail, his mom pops pills all day and night.  That’s already draining what little money the bank didn’t seize and if he wants to do anything with his life he needs a straight head. Just—fuck, we’re just asking.”

Saint prided himself on gathering information, but most of that were things he didn’t know. Luke’s dad had got taken away. But the pills? The financial distress? All of that paired with that guarded snarl the boy always seemed to wear…it almost made Saint feel sorry for Luke Deveaux. He almost said so.

Instead, he said, while twirling the cross around his neck. “Wow, he must feel like an orphan or something.”

“All right,” Remus sighed. “James, let’s just go.”

“What does he look like?” Logan said suddenly before they could turn to leave.

James looked a him warily. “Um. Sort of blond-ish. More brown-haired, I guess. Big guy, built and tall and all that. Oh, he’s got this green spot in one eye.”

Logan nodded. James raised an eyebrow. Saint waited.

“How much will you pay me to stop selling to him?” Logan finally said. He rose as he did, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “That’s a lot out of my pocket.”

“Logan,” Saint said, but Logan didn’t look at him.

James blinked. “I—oh. Oh, uh—God, what do you want? Two hundred?”

"One grand,” Logan said.

James laughed. “Dude. Who the fuck are you? No, I don’t have that much just—on me.”

“Logan,” Saint warned again, and this time Logan did look at him. Saint shook his head softly.

“Fine,” Logan said through his teeth, and held out his hand. “Two.”

James took his wallet out and handed over the cash.

“Thanks,” Remus said from a little behind James’ shoulder. “Really.”

Logan just nodded, shoved the bills into his pocket, and headed for the door.

“Pardon,” Saint sent a grin to them all, and followed him.

Once they were outside, Saint gave him a wack on the back of the head.

“Fuck,” Logan swore. “S—”

“You get out of that shit-hole and you go around selling Crucio? To Gods?”

“I—”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck was that? Do you know how not careful that was?”

“I don’t even know who that boy is,” Logan bit back.

Saint blinked. “What?”

Logan looked out towards the ocean where they could hear the waves crashing against the shore. “He offered to pay, and so I told him what he wanted to hear. When his friend shows up hallucinating next, that’s their problem.”

Saint scoffed. “Fine, okay, clever boy. But you do sell Crucio.”

“Felix,” Logan countered. “And yes.”

“Crucio. And no.”

Logan shrugged. “I need the money.”

“For what?”

Logan looked at him and, this time, his eyes were hard. Desperate. “For Finn.”

Saint froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“If I can get enough cash, I can get Finn,” Logan said.

Saint stared at him, and then Saint laughed. Then, he laughed louder.

“You’re shitting me,” Saint said. “You think that?”

“What do you…”

“You think you can buy Finn out?” Saint repeated incredulously. “You think you can walk back in there and buy Finn out.”

Logan took a breath. “He—”

“Logan, Jesus Christ,” Saint snapped. “You walk anywhere near that place and you are never getting back out.” Saint pressed a hand to Logan’s shoulder and shook him. “Do you hear me?”

“I need to do something,” Logan shouted back. “I need to do something, I can’t just leave him in there, he’s everything to me.”

Saint shook his head. “He got you out. Don’t waste that.”

Logan nodded, eyes bright with tears now. “And you know he got punished for it. You know he did—”

“Stop,” Saint spat, glancing around, as if anyone could hear. “Don’t.”

“You could help me,” Logan said, wiping his nose. “Bash, you got out once—”

“No,” Saint said, and turned away. “No. And don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.”

“Please,” Logan begged. “Please—Saint.”

Saint whirled on him again. “I am never going near there, and neither are you. Finn’s still in there, fine. But he’ll need to get himself free like us if he wants it bad enough.”

“I owe money,” Logan began, then his breathing hitched. “I owe them, I took some of it to see—to see Finn and…Bash—Saint—”

“Them?” Saint took a step forward. “Them?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, but Saint walked forward and pulled it away.

“Logan,” he said lowly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Logan closed his eyes, mouth twisting against his tears.

“Tell me, right now, that you didn’t let the Carrows tell you they’d help you. And that you didn’t believe them.”

Logan shook his head, not in negation, but in defeat. “I need him. I need him, I’m so…I’m alone.”

Saint pulled Logan against his chest and let him cry. The sobs heaved out of him for a long while, until the collar of Saint’s shirt was wet. Until Logan was breathing softly again, exhausted, and until his voice sounded shot when he spoke.

“You’re really staying with Leo?” Saint asked, more gently this time.

Logan nodded.

“I have a place, too. Here, in The Hollow. If you want.”

“With the others?” Logan rasped.

“What others?”

“How many others are out?” Logan said softly.

Saint shook his head, fingers in Logan’s hair. “Just me, that I know of.”

“You still wear it,” Logan said, pulling back to look at him. “The cross.”

Saint let his hands drop with a last touch to Logan’s hot cheek. “So do you.”

They were both silent.

“I’m sorry about Finn,” Saint said rigidly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Logan’s brows pulled together. “He’s not dead.”

Saint nodded. “Right.”

“Saint…” Logan began, and Saint heard the almost B instead. “Would you—just thinking about it—“

“No,” Saint said, and then turned and went back inside.

Sirius, back at the table, looked at his face, and then at his wet shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly when Saint sat down.

“Just dandy,” Saint replied, and looked towards the door. Logan was gone.

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (IV)

Series Masterlist

Communication is key.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 2248. Square filled: “Sung to Sleep”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Hydra Evilness, More Sad Child, Parental Anxieties. Brief mentions of war, sickness, death, grief. 

A/N: I know 2.2k words isn’t objectively a lot but boy did this feel like it. I hope every word is worth it and that you enjoy! Lmk what you think!!! Also I won’t even lie, the idea of Steve’s kids is 100% from one of my favorite comfort fics, family means no one gets left behind or forgotten, by the genius, the wonderful cosmicocean. IT’S SO SOFT. Pls read it.

You’re stunned when Bucky tells you what’s going on. The idea that his daughter (?) was made in a lab like some kind of experiment, and that the man who led said experiment now wants her back like she is his property, his weapon, is too horrid to consider for very long. Weaponizing an innocent child. Hydra.

Bucky gave you the broad strokes of the investigation – currently running on little more than educated guesses based on the meagre intel they have – and has let you know that he has had to recuse himself from the case, due to his… personal connection. That leaves him somewhere he finds awkward, to say the least.

It's evident in the way the corners of his lips turn down, how he is constantly rubbing the pads of his fingers against the coarse scratch of denim, while he watches Ana watch Zoya, Steve’s 17-year-old daughter, working on a tablet. Zoya tucks a strand of hair behind her hijab, then continues to draw up a storyboard, narrating the events to the younger girl. Steve had apparently forgotten the lunch his kids had made him at home, so Zoya had brought it in, and decided to stay the day.

Ana’s quiet, attentive for the most part, listening with her full capabilities, but her eyes flit away from the screen every now and then to look at you and Bucky, as if to reassure herself that you’re still there.

Besides that, there aren’t all that many distractions present for an already precocious child. Most of the team has dispersed for the investigation, with the exception of Peter, who is sat at a table in the corner making intentionally fruitless efforts at teaching Morgan chess, while she giggles and tries to stack the pieces like Jenga blocks instead.

However, Bucky’s restlessness is infectious, and you think he needs to get it under check before it grows any further. That’s why you stand, saying, “Could we go for a little walk, Bucky?”

He nods, man of few words that he is, and leads the way. You’re sure he knows that you formulated it like a request for his benefit, but he doesn’t mention it. It’s just as well – that he knows you like that, and knows when to accept the proverbial hand being offered.

Bucky takes you to a corner of the roof that you’d mistake for a community garden if you didn’t know any better. The Avengers seem to have green thumbs, or at least, a significant portion of them do. They’re good with plants, and possessive about them, too. Autumn ferns grow outside the circle they seem to have been planted in – with a sign shouting Wanda! – to invade the territory of a vegetable garden labelled Bruce (accompanied by a Hulkish, green thumbs up presumably not drawn by the man himself).  

Meticulously maintained daylilies and columbines, in vivid reds and vibrant purples, litter the edges of the path that has been carved through this little paradise, and the birdhouses between them stake the claim of the owner more effectively than a neon sign screaming Sam Wilson. Bucky’s told you about his abilities, how they veer into the decidedly supernatural but Sam insists are only the residue of a childhood with homing pigeons.

Nothing here looks like Bucky’s, though. He seems to be taking it in, perhaps thinking about his own little paradise back in the city, and how he’s chosen to keep it distant from that of his teammates. That worries you. He worries you.

And this, the situation with Anastasia, becoming a father, it’s terrifying. Hell, if it scares you this much, how is he feeling? You ask him as much.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

He laughs, softly, disbelievingly, no malice in his scoff, only fear. Only the sound of a voice saturated with consternation and total, complete anxiety. “Would you be?” He asks back.

“That’s why I’m asking.”

Bucky evades the questions, turning first one way on the path, and then the other, approaching the edge clear of shrubbery and blooms alike, resting his palms on the top of the wall.

“I can’t be a father.”

The solemnity in his tone allows no room for negotiations, but then, neither do the facts. “You are,” you reply, somewhat hesitantly, because the technicalities of how Ana came to be are still a little blurry to you. She’s far from a normal child, and not quite a clone, either. She is of Bucky, though. His, in any way that counts.

“That little girl was created in a Hydra lab as a super soldier to serve the cause,” he says, shaking his head vigorously as the cause repulses him even more than it does you. “And who knows what else she was put through before SHIELD fell and Orlov got her out, and it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t—”

“I didn’t ask for it to happen but it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t happened. They used me to make a super soldier from scratch, and now I’m supposed to raise her? It’s not that simple. I’m not Steve. I can’t…”

Being honest, you feel you’re pretty far out of your depth here. But you’ve promised him your help, and you’ll do your best.

“You don’t have to. There are other options.” You’re sure you’re overstepping. Perhaps this gentle companionship has not yet reached the point where you can give advice on parenting. But if you don’t, who will? Steve, whose answers don’t enter the gray territory Bucky’s mind is residing in right now, who parents like he was born for it?

Steve chose fatherhood. Bucky has been nailed to it like it’s a new cross to bear, heavier than all the previous ones put together.

His gaze roams the grounds that stretch as far as you can see. You’re both far away from home right now, far outside your comfort zones.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess, sweetheart. It’s not right. You have things to do, and I shouldn’t have—”

“Bucky, I’ve been staring at the same four sentences of dialogue for the past month. I literally could not have been happier to get out of the house. Even if I do wish it was under better circumstances,” you say fervently. You’re here because he needs you. Because Ana needs you. It’s nice to be needed.

“That’s one way to put it,” he smiles, and you’re glad to see it.

“Not to mention, it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault except whoever your team is looking for,” you insist. “And Ana’s a sweet girl. A little quiet, but Baba says I was, too.”

This, Bucky thinks about. You wonder if he was a quiet child, too. “What’s he like?”

“Hmm?” The reverie snaps like a rubber band.

“Your father?” Bucky asks, shyly, his eyes meeting yours, letting you know exactly why he’s asking.

You look up at the clouds, think back to Boston, to time shared between the library and the park. A childhood with books, lunch breaks under a desk in an office at MIT, stealing his glasses and running away with them, rubbing at his stubbly beard like he was a housecat. Inside jokes with your father and rolled eyes with your mother. Laughter and tears, laughter with tears.

After a long while, trying and failing to summarize your father, you say, “A jokester. The most sarcastic person I know. But still kind of neurotic, to be honest. The kind of parent that makes you show up at the airport a full four hours before your flight.” It’s grossly insufficient. For a writer, you’re not very good with words. You suppose it’s not the words that are the problem; it’s the lifetime they have to encompass. “What about yours?”

Bucky sighs. “Soldier. He’s one thing I don’t feel bad for not remembering because it wasn’t Hydra that wiped those memories. He just died when I was really small. Survived the Great War only to be killed by TB a few years later at home.”

“I’m sorry.” You avert your eyes. Grief feels private, even decades later, even in the smallest doses.

He shakes his head, smiles fondly, up at the sky, too, like you did. Only, he’s smiling at it, like he’s thinking of someone beyond the clouds. “Don’t be. Was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t allowed to hurt anymore.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“I sound like my therapist.”

At this, the two of you look at each other and burst into laughter. It feels forbidden, as though the severity of the situation condemns joy. That isn’t fair, you think. The situation is that of a child, and nobody needs laughter more than kids do. Food for the soul.

When the echo of your exhilarations falls, Bucky grows serious once more. “They have them for kids, now, too, right?” He asks, referring to therapists. “Do you think Anastasia should see one? She’s not exactly… normal, you know?”

“Maybe.” It’s a difficult question, but a good indicator of how Bucky is growing to feel about Ana. “You’d make a good dad, if you wanted to be one, Bucky,” you say, and mean it. It’s plain as day that he cares about her.

“I can’t even remember my own.”

“Parental instincts are intuitive, not genetic,” you tell him.

“You been reading handbooks?” He teases.

“You’d be surprised by how much you learn from the rabbit holes you fall down while researching books,” you deadpan.

“Can any of that research get the nightmares out of my head? I think it might scare a kid.”

The self-deprecation hurts, but your response is honest, heartfelt. “She likes you already.”

“She won’t if she thinks I’ve run away,” he answers, straightening up. He might be trying to evade the conversation, but you’ll let him, for now. He’s gotten some fresh air, had some time to clear his thoughts, or sort them, at least. And so you return, to the little girl who has a tighter grip on both of you than you even realize.

------

Ana grows unsettled as night darkens the sky. It could be the ruckus she isn’t quite used to. It could be the toy fire truck Tony has been altering with his utensils to increase its noise output, much to Morgan’s amusement. It could be the actual parrot perched on Sam’s shoulder.

Whatever the cause, she hasn’t succumbed to it enough to make a seat out of the fridge again. She’s sitting in her seat, between Bucky and yourself, eating the hummus Bruce and Wanda have made. Nat discusses sniper scopes with Clint, Peter tries to get away with eating the side of vegetables on Jordan’s plate without Steve noticing, and Bucky eats silently, eyes almost constantly on Anastasia, who takes it all in while her knee bounces up and down with an ever-increasing speed, much like her father’s.

You excuse yourselves soon after dessert, after Morgan has fallen asleep against Jordan’s arm on the couch, and Steve and Tony’s friendly debate is starting to develop the edge it tends to when they’ve been bantering for too long.

Bucky sets up on the sectional in his room, and leaves the ridiculously large double bed to you and Anastasia. It’s been a strange, strange day, and one can only hope that tomorrow brings some ease, a balm for the prickly, fiery ache that has settled over the man you care so much about.

------

When you wake, it’s because of singing. For half a moment, you think you’re in a dream, but as your eyes adjust to the blanket of dark, you see the shadow on the sofa nearby. Only, it’s bigger than just Bucky. Anastasia is sitting on his lap, her head cushioned against his chest. Scrambling for your glasses, and turning on the lamp on the bedside table, you notice that there are trails of drying tears on her little cheeks, and she’s still shaking with the aftershocks of whatever scare she must’ve had during the night.

Not for the first time, you curse your deep sleep that meant you didn’t wake with Ana, but watch in wonder as Bucky sings.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird won't sing Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring

Ana’s eyes begin to close, but she fights the sleep. Bucky doesn’t let her. He lies down, easing her down beside himself, singing all the while.

And if that diamond ring turns brass Papa's going to buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass gets broke Papa's going to buy you a billy goat

His voice fills the room, low though it may be, and he curls himself around Ana.

And if that billy goat won't pull Papa's going to buy you a cart and bull

And if that cart and bull turn over Papa's going to buy you a dog named Rover

She succumbs to the lull of his tone, his song, his promises, sighs a little sigh, lets the last, little hiccup leave her body.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark Papa's going to buy you a horse and cart

And if that horse and cart fall down You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town

Bucky lifts his hand from where it was stroking the hair at her temple, and lays his arm over his daughter. They’re safe, for now. Together.

[sadisticyouko]

"dont be afraid to reach out im mostly normal!" number one way to directly not appeal to me JGKZJF /JKJK LMAO but u should know back when i first made my tumblr my url was weirdobsessivenerd and Weirdo was literally what i went by as my name (then i discovered kinning and started going by rouge and now also kurama lol) so like. im Absolutely one to embrace weirdness and encourage it in others, so! dont hold back that unhinged-ness! its precisely what draws me to people HFKHZKG when i say Chill i absolutely mean someone that feels like theyd probably be easy to just relax n be myself around. hang out being Cool Bros. which basically equals being unjudgemental and a bit of a freak (said absolutely positively but i wont use that again if ur uncomfortable with being called that!!)

but ANYWAYZ yeah sending out asks n responding through that feels a lot less...... contained? whatever the hell that means for Conversations but its the vibe lol. exactly like what u were saying. its like im pokin my head out of my lil fox den and yelling out across the field instead of inviting someone inside bgksbfjnzf also yea i totally get the social battery thing thats Super how it is for me too. if were ever chattin n u just drop off out of nowhere and show back up in a couple days continuing the same convo i will not judge bc i Super Relate JFKHSJF

also im not like Super exactly like my kins all the time its more like an internal thing. they may not always reflect me but i still get the feeling of Thats Me. cant always explain it tjjsbf then theres the case of some kins of being exactly how i am irl and some i connect to so hard for one reason or another that i just absorb all of their characteristics into myself bkdjfkd i have a lot of mha kins bc it was my Big Hyperfixation before yyh completely steamrolled over everything in my brain lol, most of them are lower kins tho but my bigger ones are def himiko, la brava, ochako, and shoto!

tbh i kinda wonder how into yyh i woulda been if i discovered it when i was younger, it feels like i may not have been as into it as i am now? which is weird to picture bc rn im Severely hyperfixated on it, i cant imagine having any other sort of relationship to the series jfkdhkf AND HIEI IS SO. FUCKING. ATTRACTIVE. only the second character to break through my asexuality and sex repulsion fjkdjfkd i cant believe he actually makes me so wild over his muscles when ive literally never given any fucks about abs n shit all my life. his hotness is just too powerful fjsjf AND IM ALWAYS ADORING HOW TINY HE IS BUT IN REALITY HES JUST A FEW INCHES SHORTER THAN ME TOO BC IM 5'2" LMAO. but. i always picture his height in comparison to kuramas human and youko forms and it makes me crazy HFKSJKF little man i want to pick him up and kiss him as hes frustrated and flustered about being carried so easily like that and annoyed at himself that he actually likes it 🥰

also if u do like those songs lmk owo!! im always curious to see if others will like a song i recommend hehe. and if u like aggressive music then boy do i have plenty of that bc edgy shit is like my #1 thing i love to listen to HFKSHKF

Omg pretending I’m normal is how I try to fit in ! That’s my inner shuichi trying to blend in with this classmates 😂 I’m a little bit of a weirdo too but I like pretending to be normie passing, I’m like a snail hiding all it’s weirdness under the shell 😂 my first username was tsukisbadgirl so I GET IT 😂😂 I was SUPER into bakugou I mean I still like him but he’s been replaced as my #1 since I got into Tokyo revengers 😂 I will let you know all about my weirdness tendencies but pretend its perfectly normal like 2 seconds later hehe

& yea wild open asks are the best lol IDK WHY but it’s all so true ! I’m glad u won’t judge if I can’t reply right away cuz sometimes I need to disappear and then I feel bad if I try to come back later ! Ohhh the kin thing makes sense too ! Maybe I’m not kinning too many ppl from mha rn cuz I’m hyper fixated on Tokyo revengers now ! I kin like SO MANY PPL from there but I am hopelessly obsessed with it so that might be why 😂 (especially manjiro, he is plaguing my every waking & slumbering moment now 👀)

asbfoajsos Hiei’s MUSCLES keep drawing me back like a little magnet and I am RESISTING 😂😂 why is he built like that ?? I mean I know why but omg WHY DOES IT LOOK SO GOOD ?? i hate it, if Kurama had nearly half the shirtless scenes hiei did I’d be even more unhinged but they didn’t give him the chance !! 😭 SOBBING. I like to be the one that gets manhandled tbh but I feel like even with Hiei’s height he could still get it done 😏 and then im like NO ! INTRUSTIVE THOUGHTS I WANT KURAMA ! and ahdisnsiaosndk 😂 im mostly attracted to ppl based on personality rather than physicality but once im attracted to the person it opens the flood gates and all of a sudden everything about them seems hot 😩

But yes I will let u now about the songs !! It might take me a while like my reading list lol ahdisbskdn BUT I will eventually get to it ! I do things very sporadically and depending on inspiration level so I can’t be held accountable 😂

[aminiatureworld]

A Sea of Fragments IV

Word Count: 2,544

Warnings: Alcohol

Author’s Note: I somehow lost an hour at some point when writing, but here is Chapter 4! Like I said last time this is more of a continuation of Chapter 3 since I split it into two parts, but I think it’s rather good in its own right. Hope you enjoy!

You wandered between the white tents, pace fast and without any real goal. For what end destination could you truly have? You had no base, no sanctuary, nowhere you might consider home. The tent you’d borrowed was just Fatui property, and though your belongings were surely some comfort they also smacked of betrayal. For indeed you’d betrayed yourself by agreeing to this, by being so naïve as to believe that you might’ve been able to live out a perfect future, one in which the valiant knight lifts the curse of a fallen prince.

There was nowhere in this camp that was truly your own, and the outside world proved hardly more comforting. The idea of returning to your village was something you automatically shrunk from, for then the constant attention would just return, only worse now. How could you live with endless eyes staring at you from behind? No, you could not return home either. There was nowhere else then, nowhere except the rest of the world, which spread itself before you like a chasm, one that was a very large fall away. You were essentially trapped, no matter what you did you were trapped. There was nothing, nothing except this distant future you refused to let go of. But was the future worth the payment of your current misery?

Stumbling along the haphazard pathways you found yourself at what must’ve been the center of the camp. It was a surprisingly open place, the clearing large enough to fit at least one regiment, with space to spare for sparring and other such activities. You could spot two pairs doing just that, but the majority of people were sitting. Though there were a large enough number of benches in a circle the majority of the troops were lounging about the grass, a steady stream of conversation escaping their groups.

“Since I’ve never heard of anyone getting drunk off of one round, and all of you certainly don’t have water in your pouches, let’s have a toast!”

The man who spoke up was quite evidently tipsy, something that caused a twittering of laughter and scoffing amid his companions. He paid no attention to the conversation, nor to the shove on the shoulder from the man sitting next to him, the “oh Pytor” that accompanied a roll of the eyes. Standing up, somewhat shakily, he raised his glass.

“A toast to the Tsaritsa! And to the glory of Snezhnaya!”

The words made you cringe, but somehow you found yourself not the only one. Pytor’s proclamation was met with a great rolling of eyes, and even some grumbling. One woman shook her head, crossing her hands and scowling.

“And what would the Tsaritsa do with that toast of yours? If you’re going to toast someone they should at least have a vested interest in you. Besides, what do you know of the glory of Snezhnaya.”

“Oh come on Irina, cut the poor boy some slack. We can’t all be as serious as you are.”

“You know nothing of the world Misha, and neither does this idiot. I can’t help that you need some reality put into you.”

“Oh?” Pytor flashed an amused look towards Irina. “Then enlighten me Irina, who should I toast to? After all the Tsaritsa is still paying us, and that counts more than your talking.”

“Would you toast the sun because it shines\? You know she’s only paying because if not half her army wouldn’t be here. Or are you such a patriot as that, Pytor?”

“I admit, I am not.” Pytor sighed, expression twisting into one of abject sadness. The expression was so comical, you couldn’t help but giggle with the rest of the group, taking a few steps forward as to hear better. “And yet, I feel that I must toast her most beloved Majesty nevertheless, for if not I would be rotting away in some hovel, and surely you would all miss me if that were come to pass.”

“I’m not sure if Irina here would, but I would, don’t worry.” Misha piped back up, ducking as Irina went to slug him. “Anyways I frankly don’t care about any glory, at least the food is better than one would expect, even if the company is terrible.”

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you imbeciles,” Irina muttered, “you all have the curiosity of a house plant.”

“Then why do you stay?” You immediately clamped your mouth shut, uneasiness washing over you as the group turned to stare at you. Keeping your gaze slightly lowered you peered over at Irina. An odd smile spread across her face, and her eyes reflected something unreadable.

“Why do you stay?”

“Because I have nowhere else to go.” You replied, compelled to honesty despite the slight waver of your voice.

“Is it not the same for us?” Irina gestured towards the people around her. “After all, what life is there for us other than here. Half of us come from villages with no future, doomed otherwise to starvation or poverty. Where else would any of us go?”

“Yet surely there is a better option?” You pressed on, vaguely aware of the fact you were posing the question to yourself. “Surely there is better than serving someone whose goals you can’t understand, who cares not for the people around her, and under the gaze of a man who cares not at all whether you live or die?”

“What do you mean?” Misha stared at you oddly. “Are you talking about my lord, Scaramouche?”

“Lord?” You replied, not sure which urge was stronger, the urge to laugh or to cry.

“Only to his face.” Irina replied, glaring at Misha, who was laughing uncontrollably. “Although I have to agree with Misha, I don’t see why he should any worse than the rest. He manages at least to keep the sadism to a minimum around the ground troops.”

“He’s one of the worst tempered men I’ve ever met.” You blurted out.

“Perhaps.” Misha let out another string of laughter. “Still at least he runs things well enough. You’ll never catch that man skimming off the top, or the bottom for that matter. His pride would probably kill him for it.”

“Lord Scaramouche is one of the best leaders I’ve ever worked under. At least he’s never experimented on anyone else.”

“I think Dottore doesn’t count when talking about good or bad, Pytor. That one is simply in a world of his own, and all we can do is hope to never get sucked in with him.”

“You must’ve had some bad experiences with Scaramouche.” Irina tilted her head, once more bringing the conversation back to your objection.

“It’s not my fault he has a superiority complex the size of Celestia.”

“You may be right about that.” Irina replied, a wry smile conveying some odd form of approval. “Still, you can’t help it with people like them. What else is there for the man who was bred for war?”

“I suppose you’re right.” You frowned. “It almost makes me pity him.”

“Well don’t let him know that.” Misha joined in. “I think his ego wouldn’t be able to take it.”

You laughed, despite yourself.

 -------

Scaramouche wove his way through the camp, thoughts still swirling in his head. A part of him chafed at the idea of going after you, at having once more to in some way lower himself. Yet still your words echoed in his head, your accusations which caused him inexplicable irritation propelling his steps forward.

Reaching the center of the camp Scaramouche heard the familiar tones of your voice. Keeping towards the edges of the clearing he followed the sound, surprisingly jovial considering the fight you two had just experienced. Finally spying you next to a few troops he found himself caught somewhat off guard, the view of your face open with laughter killing all the thoughts he’d previously been harboring.

As if entranced he watched mutely as you conversed and joked with the people around you, voice hesitant but no less eager for it. Your words were fueled by excitement and humor, said in a sort of tone and register that Scaramouche had never before heard from you. Your laugh was warm and somewhat excited, something that the Harbinger found himself enthralled with. Never before did he understand the idea of a musical voice or laugh, at least not in terms of someone speaking. Voices were flat, screechy, deep, irritating. Voices were not warm, were not musical; one could not pin such words onto something so mundane as someone’s speech. And yet when he heard your voice all he could think of was the idea of song. Absentmindedly he wondered what it might be like if you sang.

You looked so comfortable now, so different from the sulky distrust that coated your every gesture when he was with you. A flicker of resentment stirred within Scaramouche, joined by a prickly disbelief. How was it that these people should so easily coax smiles and laughter out of you? Were they no less Fatui members than he was? It seemed almost hypocritical, how you should so quickly blame him for one thing and forgive others for that exact same situation. And yet Scaramouche didn’t want them to share in your rocky contempt. He wanted fairness, wanted to share in that openness that those so beneath him had managed to cultivate. He wanted to be acquitted of his crimes, just as you had decided to acquit those around you.  

A quick shout of “My lord” quickly broke apart this reverie. Suddenly the camp was silent, the only sound that of fabric shifting as troops stood up and bowed. Waving his hand impatiently Scaramouche made his way over to you. Your face was somewhat flushed from the liveliness of your previous conversation, your gaze suddenly weary. Saying nothing Scaramouche took your hand, glad that you followed silently, and silently cursing the soft conversation that followed the two of you.

“It seemed like you were having a good time.” Scaramouche opened, bitterness seeping through his voice. You seemed startled, stance once more closing off, an action which caused a flicker of regret to run through the Harbinger.

“I was, I didn’t think there’d be any real people here.”

“How kind of you to ameliorate your statement.”

“What do you want?” Your words were once more short, but the tone had somehow shifted. Though Scaramouche could not say what they’d shifted to.

“I…” What did he want? Surely he could not tell you of all the things he thought. Could not reveal such a weakness, such an inexplicable, incomprehensible thing.

“I’m sorry for calling you heartless.” Your tone was somewhat rushed. “I, I was angry, I couldn’t understand why you would do such a thing. I still don’t, of course I still don’t, but I shouldn’t’ve called you that. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t see why my plans should be causing you such distress.”

“And I don’t see what the Tsaritsa could need with a village’s heirloom? Perhaps if I knew it were for some noble cause I could excuse it, but I don’t know that. In fact I doubt it very much. Surely you must know?”

“It’s not my duty to question the wishes of the Tsaritsa. I only see that he will is done.”

“How?” You looked aghast. “How could you never question what you’ve been asked? You must have your own thoughts, your own feelings. How could you never question what you’ve been asked to do?”

“Because that’s not my duty. I don’t exist to question Her Majesty’s will, only to fulfill it.”

“That must be a very sad existence.” You paused staring once more at some spot in the distance, some spot Scaramouche could not see. “It must be a very lonely existence. To never be able to reveal one’s thoughts.”

Scaramouche said nothing, unsure whether the assertion was above or beneath him. Why should he question the Tsaritsa after all? She’d given him a will, a goal, a target with which to point his abilities, a place where he could expel the rage which twisted inside him. And in return he gave her his loyalty, the most he could ever give anyone. Of course he never questioned the Tsaritsa. Does a dog question his owner? Why should a mortal question the resolve, the will of a god?

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” Scaramouche asked, mind wrenched from his previous thoughts.

“I’ll do it, I’ll look into the future. I’ll find what you’re looking for. But in return you must do something for me.”

“What will it be this time?”

“Listen to me. Listen to what I see in the future, to the fragments and the branches. And tell no one else about it, about the divergences and the dangers. And no matter what make sure that the worst never happens. Because if you raze that village to the ground I will never do anything for you again.”

“Very well.” Scaramouche replied, wary of what was to come ahead. A part of him brimmed with curiosity, with the wish to glimpse inside a piece of your life; yet another part of him balked at the unsaid accusation, the idea that this venture was destined to end in failure, as if he couldn’t make sure a simple plan succeed.

“Good.”

“Come to my tent after dinner.” Scaramouche turned to go.

“Wait.”

“Yes?” Scaramouche turned back around. Your gaze was somewhat surprised, though whether it was by his actions or you words he couldn’t tell.

“I…”

"Yes?”

Scaramouche stepped closer to you. The odd expression that you’d last given him in your tent had returned, filling the Harbinger’s mind with questions. He once more felt that odd pull, the pull to be close to you, to stare, as if trying to read something incomprehensible in your expression. You leaned closer to him and he absentmindedly thought of how distinct your presence was, how he wished that it would continue to float in front of him. It was like a warm current, powerful and steadfast, dragging him somewhere he couldn’t explain yet wanted to go.

The brush of your fingers against his finally brought Scaramouche back to the present. Drawing back slightly he glanced away, embarrassed by his sudden lack of presence.

“You were saying.”

“I was? Oh! Yes…” you trailed off before shaking your head violently, cheeks slightly flushed. “Just remember not to tell anyone.”

And with that you were gone, leaving Scaramouche feeling somewhat lacking, as if he’d gained something by being next to you which was once more lost. Sighing the Harbinger thought about your parting words. The reminder of another deal, yet this one he couldn’t be sure to keep. After all, the information he possessed belonged to the Tsaritsa. If she were to ever inquire about it he’d have to tell her.

He thought back to your conversation, the pitying words you’d given him. Question the Tsaritsa? How naïve you were. And yet Scaramouche still felt that odd emptiness around him. He’d never truly understood the concept of loneliness, the need for others being a necessity for the masses. And yet as he stood there, standing amid tents with no one in sight, he suddenly felt very alone indeed.

[dashedwithromance]

Slithered Here From Eden - Princewitch

KINGDOM OF THE WICKED SPOILERS!!! I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW SPOILERY THIS FIC IS. THE HEIGHT OF SPOILERS!! THE PEAK OF SPOILERS!! THIS IS A VERY LOUD WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KINGDOM OF THE WICKED SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT DO NOT KEEP READING IF YOU DONT WISH TO BE SPOILED THANK YOUUUUUU

anyways here is my first princewitch fic!! i hope you guys like it, and let me know if you have any ideas for fics for those two. im a little nervous to put this out here - ive written only cressworth and original stuff for a while, so im kinda nervous this wont be in character or will be weird in my style. anyway, please let me know if you like this, and if its something you want more of. im already working on a few others, courtesy of @duchess-of-nothing-and-nowhere ‘s brilliant ideas, but send in any requests you have!!! i hope you guys enjoy, thank you!!!!!

---

Hell was, well, hell.

Her husband was busy doing whatever kings of Hell did in their spare time, which she was thankful for. She didn’t wish to run into any of the Wicked, but Pride was close to the top of the list. Not the worst offender, however. The Prince she’d once tentatively called an ally had claimed that spot with his spectacularly humiliating betrayal. 

The worst part was that she still didn’t understand. His motives, his feelings, his aims - all were shrouded in mystery, one that seemed to taunt her at every twist and turn. Bastard. 

Contrary to her preconceptions, her rooms were actually rather beautiful. Similar to the style of the house Wrath had rented in Palermo, but it felt different. Darker. Her quarters were styled in black and gold, with serpent scones lining the walls. The fire flickered in a menacing fashion, though she’d long since learned it had more bark than bite. 

Shadows crept along the floor until they curled at her feet like a cat, announcing the presence of the one demon prince she wished to see the least. 

“What do you want.” Emilia barely gave him a glance before he walked him, arrogance pouring off him. As if he owned the damn place. 

Infuriatingly beautiful as usual, he wore a dark suit, flecked with golden patterns, not unlike the tattoo she knew adorned his shoulder. Her attention flicked to the wicker basket he held gingerly in his hands. Covered with a soft blue tea towel, it looked like something plucked off the streets of her home, not something that belonged within the obsidian walls of the kingdom where wickedness ruled with abandon. 

Silence was his only reply as he looked her up and down. The gaze threatened to set her alight; with rage or desire, she wasn’t entirely sure. Once, the bed that loomed behind her would’ve offered a taunting distraction and a fragile but desperate wish. Now, it only annoyed her, reminding her of the moments she’d failed so magnificently at seeing through his façade.

Still no response. They hadn’t spoken since her wedding, and their last words had been less of a conversation and more of throwing of well-deserved insults on her behalf. He’d told her that she knew nothing of his motivations, and to assume he wished her harm was foolish. She’d told him a few carefully chosen expletives, complete with a hand gesture that would’ve had her mother wringing her hands. Wrath had spent the days prior skulking outside her quarters, never saying a word, only letting his shadows pollute her already foul mood. She might’ve had the slightest amount of sympathy for him, had he not betrayed her, lied to her, married her to his brother and thoroughly pissed her off in the process.

He placed the basket down on the table at the other side of the room. Looking up, Wrath raised a carefully groomed brow. Apparently, princes of Hell had beauty routines.

His mood was undetectable through his face, but the shadows that followed him gave it away, if only slightly. They were the same dark as a summer night; dark enough for comfort, but not the soulless black pitch she’d seen him wear so often. An interesting combination for a prince who seemed to care not a whit whether she lived or died after he’d gotten what he wanted.

Wrath pulled back the cloth covering the basket to reveal – food. A carefully curated selection of her favourites, smelling like they’d been plucked off the serving plates of the Sea & Vine.

She nearly salivated at the sight – the food she’d eaten in Hell had been a sore spot for her. Though nothing was wrong with it, it lacked the love of homemade food. The flavour that came with knowing that someone lovingly made every single bite. There were no laughing families who cooked here, no fathers to taste-test, or sisters to tease while they made sangria side by side.

  “How on earth did you find this?” The words slipped out before she could correct herself. ‘Earth’ was perhaps not the right term, though she couldn’t truly tell where she was. Under, felt more accurate. Below.

He looked at her as if she was missing the obvious – and she was.

The food smelt like she was used to because it was what she was used to. The same recipes, made with the same care as every meal that came from the Sea & Vine kitchens.

Panic enveloped her faster than joy.

“Did you hurt them?” She hissed, desperately searching his appearance for any sign of violence. He was wearing black, that much was true, but either he cleaned up exceptionally well, or there was no blood to be found.

“Hurt them?” Wrath’s tone was even, but she could hear how he scoffed. The nerve, “No. I even paid for it.”

Her heart still beat fast enough to burst from her chest, so he continued, “Relax, witch. No harm has come to them, nor will it, if you comply with my brother’s terms.” There was no audible threat in his tone, but she knew it went without saying. Comply, be Pride’s blooded wife, or her family would receive the same fate as Vittoria. It hurt to even think about, however brief the thought was.

She was going to throw something right at his beautiful, awful face. Maybe the basket, once she was finished devouring her favourites. Wrath would certainly look ridiculous enough with a basket slammed over his head, if he didn’t kill her first.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you fear.” Emilia blinked, unsure how to respond. He seemed to be lingering, if demon princes could ever linger. Why wouldn’t he leave?

She nodded, restraining a biting retort about how she was sure that fact was a deep disappointment for him. Remembering the odd rules of demonhood, she thanked him.

Still, he wouldn’t leave. Just stood there, watching her with those golden eyes that peered into her very soul, reaching inside and setting her alight. His gaze was unnerving.

Her patience, which had thinned dramatically since becoming a co-ruler of Hell, waned, “Are you waiting for payment?”

He laughed. Actually laughed. A short, biting sound, but a laugh nonetheless.

“I could smell your foul mood from my own House. Perhaps this will appease you.”

Appease her. As if it were that simple. As if he hadn’t tricked her, lied to her by omission, made her into an even greater fool than the one she was.

“Perhaps if you deigned to be truthful, I would be more polite.” Lies, but worth a try. If only he would tell her something, anything by way of explanation. Even if it was brutally cruel and benefitting a member of the Wicked. Anything but the agony of anticipation.

Apparently this evening was full of more surprises, because Wrath then pulled out a chair, and gestured for her to sit down, like they weren’t sworn enemies. The thought of a biting retort was attractive, but the smell of food was too much. The scent of all her favourites, food she’d spent hours labouring over in the past, wafted towards her like an irresistible gift.

The basket held everything she dreamt of. Wrath laid the table with his harvest as she tried not to gape at the sight. Twin glasses of sangria, somehow still delightfully cold. The comforting smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeated the air. Plates piled high with a mix of all her favourite things: a selection of antipasto, a side plate of bruschetta, a bowl of pasta, and a small dish of cannoli. If she closed her eyes, and forgot the presence of the prince in front of her, she could picture being back home, surrounded by her family and loved ones. If she thought hard enough, she could faintly smell Vittoria’s favourite perfume, the one she made for herself.

When she opened her eyes, the dream faded away, and there was only Wrath sitting across from her. Despite all the effort she presumed he must’ve taken to fetch the food, he sat watching like he thought it was attack him. Or she would. A laugh escaped her lips, almost hysterical, at the situation. Her, Queen of Hell, sat with her husband’s brother, another demon prince, as they ate food from her family’s restaurant. Comical, if disturbing.

“It won’t bite,” She said, eagerly helping herself to a plate. His eyes flickered with the promise of his bite, and she fought to keep any sign of her reaction off her face. Now was not the time to think of his kiss, or goddess forbid, his tongue. Watching carefully, he followed suit, piling his plate high with a mirror of her own. If she didn’t know the strength that lurked beneath that bronze skin and manicured hands, she would’ve called it sweet.

The food was – the food was heavenly. The taste of home, the love of her family, the promise of safety offered in those few bites brought her more joy than she thought possible. She wanted to stretch out the meal forever, as long as time would permit. If this was the last time she would taste such heaven, she wanted to remember it.

Despite her anger at the demon sitting across from her, curiosity embedded itself in her mind. How could he have known? How could he have known this was exactly what she needed, what her soul craved? Just as he’d done with the orange blossoms after Lust, he’d somehow known her mind and soul needing nourishment, and brought it as a gift to her door. Perhaps there would be a price to be paid, someday, but for now, her happiness was enough.

It was ridiculous and Nonna would’ve scolded her dearly, but it was the first semblance of normal she’d had since signing her name over to Pride. The meal sent flashbacks of the time she’d spent after Lust had invaded her mind; the days she’d spent lying in bed, a stranger in her own body, while Wrath sat like a comforting guardian demon. They hadn’t spoken, but he’d delivered her meals thrice daily, and never left her side unless to fetch her clothes from his mysterious source, or to give her privacy if she’d asked. He’d even brought her reading materials, though they were filled with battle strategies, not the steamy romances she craved. At the time, she’d thought it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, Wrath was different. Now, she only felt the white-hot flush of shame. Her appetite faded, and she pushed the plate away.

He catalogued her change in mood with a barely perceptible nod of his head. Truly, she had no idea what he was thinking. Sometimes she thought he was terrified for her, her witch-blood and mortal heart acting as a beacon for all those whom Pride had made an enemy. Sometimes she thought he wanted to kiss her until her lips were swollen and she begged him for release. Sometimes she thought her presence disgusted him to a never-ending degree. A mystery.

“You need to be careful,” He broke the silence with a warning, as if she treated Hell like a stroll along Sicilian streets.

“It would help if you told me anything.” She hated the petulant near-whine of her voice, but it couldn’t be helped. She had nothing and no-one in the world, but she needed an ally. Or, if she couldn’t have that, information would have to do.

“I’ve already told you too much.” Lies. Complete lies.

Her questioning had bored him, she assumed, as he stood up to go, leaving the remnants of their meal scattered around them. Wrath cast one last look at her before stalking out, taking the shadows with him.

Just as she was about to curse his name, she spotted a bouquet of orange blossoms on the dresser.

Bastard.

---

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[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 19 - Holy Ground

Masterlist; Chapter 18

Summary: In the days before the mission in Tallinn, you and Neil have a few conversations to clear the air of doubts. Only, the mission itself proves to be a disruption...

Warnings: Swearing; mild violence.

Author’s Notes: Here we go, my favourite mission (and favourite Neil outfit too). This is only part one of the Tallinn action because so much happens... as you’ll see. I’m sorry. I really am. Hope you enjoy and please leave me feedback if you feel like it!

Song mentioned is: ‘Holy Ground’ by Within Temptation (I’ll share it in a post later but basically listen to it after reading and you’ll know why I’m obsessed)

Edit is courtesy of my amazing friend @sh3tani​ once again (ilysm and thanks for everything 💕)

The upcoming days were busy. You have been assigned the task of getting hold of some of the vehicles and artillery TP wanted for the heist in Tallinn. It was difficult, not only because it is actually rather hard to acquire a fire truck with no records left from the transaction, but also because you barely had any clue what you were actually doing. And so, most of the time, you were sat at the dining table in the flat, calling various shady people Neil gave you contacts to. Sometimes, a tea would appear in front of you, courtesy of the other team members thoroughly apologizing for how they handled the ‘alley situation’.

It seemed like your late-night walk and the cold treatment you gave everyone (including Neil) for the next 24 hours afterward worked. The jokes have ended, and contrition took their place, usually in the form of extreme helpfulness, random acts of kindness, and, in Neil’s case, a break from teasing. At least for a short while.

The only development you were not so sure of was the fact that the whole team decided to label your relationship. Not just any label but dating, verging on a couple. And that was rather terrifying. It struck you especially the night before when you have minded your own business in the kitchen. Watching over the pasta boiling on the stove, you listened to the plans made by Ives. He was trying to settle on the best way to track Neil during the heist when he suddenly turned to you with a question:

“Has your boyfriend told you what kind of car they are going for in the end?” the neutral tone made you skim over the term at first.

But then your brain caught up. What?! You almost toppled over the whole pot of pasta onto the floor when trying to drain it. Fuck. Ives was staring at you quizzically, as though confused about your current state.

“I… Who?” you stammered out the question, knowing it will only make everything worse.

“Neil” Ives grinned, “Unless you’ve gone for an open relationship and there’s another boyfriend involved”

“Christ, please stop” sighing, you tried to calm down just enough to function “I believe he’s going for a BMW, don’t know what series but something fast enough just in case there was a chase” triumphantly, you poured the sauce over the noodles.

“I’ll need to give him a call about it” Ives smacked his tongue thoughtfully.

“Feel free” using the opportunity, you grabbed the cutlery and escaped into your room.

Boyfriend? Now that was something to cause anxiety. Because despite everything that happened, all the things you have told Neil and got in return, you had no clue what you were supposed to be. Not really. Yes, sometimes you let yourself entertain the idea that maybe you were together, maybe he was your lover. But… was he? Could he ever be that?

With those thoughts occupying your mind, you only managed to last until afternoon the next day before giving in. After failing to contact a car dealer for the fifth time and realising that you have completely messed up the route plan due to forgetting about important details, you closed the laptop. It was hard to think when all your brain did was give reasons for why Neil would never actually want to be with you. To summarise: you were not enough, naïve, hopeless, and dumb enough to think that someone this incredible could think about you seriously. Stifling the sudden desire to breakdown and give up on everything, you dialed his number. He picked up almost instantly.

“Yes, my love?” your heart clenched at the nickname.

“Hi… um… Do you have a moment?” you cringed at the awkwardness.

“For you? Always”

Maybe, on another day, that would have made you smile. But that was not that kind of a day.

“Neil, I’m serious,” sighing, you rested your head on the cold wall behind your bed.

“What’s wrong?” his tone switched from playful to concerned.

Okay… now there’s no turning back.

“I’ve just been thinking...” you started, debating on the best way to breach the topic.

“Oh no”

Damn him. You cracked a small smile, knowing that was the intention. You could almost picture him at this moment, sat in some absolutely strange position in the armchair, nothing but long legs and ruffled hair. You did have it pretty bad.

“Shut up” you took a deep breath and blurted out “It’s probably stupid, and feel free to ignore this but... what even are we?”

There it is. Your whole existence hanged on his reply. But, of course, Neil needed more clarification than that…

“How do you mean?” his careful tone made your heart rate elevate.

The result was a string of sentences you shot out with the speed of a machine gun.

“Because everyone here assumes we’re dating. And Ives called you my boyfriend last night, and I don’t... I don’t know if that’s what’s going on and-”

“Okay, calm down,” he interrupted your rant “Take a deep breath” he waited until he could hear you exhale to continue “What do you want this to be? Because we’re the only people who have a say about it” the diplomatic tone made you frown.

But then maybe he just wanted to get your point of view before saying anything substantial… Trouble was you had no clue. Picking on a loose thread on your sweater, you sighed:

“I don’t know” maybe this was the right time to give him another piece of mind?  “I always hated labels because when you name something, it becomes real” you admitted, letting yourself slide down onto the pillows.

Nothing could hurt you there. Apart from potential rejection from the likely love of your life. Basically, fml, as the kids say.

“What about good things?” his question caught you off guard.

“Well, yeah, but… once there’s a couple, then there can be a break-up” the insecurity had an answer for that too.

Your cheeks heated up upon saying the word. Because even that felt like a step too far. Like maybe you were clingy. Obnoxious. Someone he could want to get rid of as quickly as possible. Before you decided to back out of the conversation, he replied:

“That’s a rather bleak way of looking at things” it was still that thoughtful tone.

A burden then.

“I know” you groaned, frustrated with yourself.

But the next thing he said was rather surprising…

“I’ll need to work on making you more optimistic. Not because I don’t like you the way you are, but because I want you to realise how wrong you are sometimes” the conviction and practical implications of the statement made you speechless.

The future tense. The admission that he did like you, with your countless issues and overbearing anxiety. It couldn’t be, could it? Neil took your stunned silence as permission to say more:

“From my side, let me say that dating doesn’t quite cut it because it implies not being sure... And…” despite yourself, your ears perked up, wanting to know what he meant.

“Yeah?” you prodded, trying to toe that precarious line between curiosity and fear of rejection.

“I’m not really in the trial stages anymore. Don’t think I’ve ever been” he clearly wanted to tell you more but was holding back.

Maybe it was for the better. Before you could think about a response to that, Neil added:

“Basically, we don’t have to use any labels. We’re just us” the simplicity of that statement broke through your resolve, making tears well up “Me and you. We know best what that implies and no one else matters” quietly, you sobbed, and he laughed before choosing to put that final nail in the metaphorical coffin “You’re my love, and that’s the only nickname I need” Neil sounded happy, as though despite your worries, he wanted to say that “I can be your idiot, as long as I’m yours” the punchline came with an audible smug smile.

Oh my god. You laughed, with tears still silently falling down your cheeks and heart hammering in your chest. He was impossible. Absolutely impossible. Suddenly asking that crucial question was not that scary. Because maybe today was the day when would tell you, without alcohol or worries prompting the confession. Taking the plunge, you spoke:

“Neil, do you-”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted you with an answer.

“I haven’t even asked the question” you frowned, unsure whether that kind of an answer was better than a confession.

Because, yes, he already said it once (almost twice), but both those have been anything but thoughtful. And your ever doubting brain was quick to use that fact against you.

“But I know the answer” he sounded certain.

Perhaps too certain.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to tell you over the phone” Neil sighed heavily on the other end “Listen, I have to go… but call me or text if you need to talk” he hesitated before adding, “No matter what I want you to remember what I said that night in London”

Oh… It was the first time any of you brought it up. You just assumed it was one of the things that just slipped out in an unguarded moment. You wanted it to be true, but then that was too risky. But maybe not…?

“I heard you” you whispered despite being alone in the room.

“I know” you could picture the soft smile he sometimes gave you “Goodbye, my love. Good luck with work” at the reminder of the piles of papers still waiting, you groaned, causing him to laugh.

“Will be needed since what you’ve assigned me is close to impossible” the change of the topic was dearly welcomed.

Grabbing the laptop again, you opened it up and felt all the motivation dissolve upon the sight of the route waiting to be planned. Coffee will be needed. And maybe whiskey too.

“I believe in you,” Neil broke your brooding with a comment, “And it’s not really me who assigned it” you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot” unable to stop the grin on your face, you ended the call.

So maybe it was worth calling… Even if only to learn that he was in fact yours. And that he did not mind your insecurity or moments of anxiety. Maybe all this had some more potential than heartbreak and tragedy? Ignoring all the thoughts, you focused on the workload. After all, someone had to get all those bloody vehicles on time for the boys to play with.

*** The closer it got to the day, you could feel the tensions rising within the team. Partially it was your own fault and the fact that you were nervous. The plan was vague enough. What you and Ives’ squad knew was that TP intended to take over the plutonium 241 on the move, specifically on the highway leading out of the city. For some reason, he needed a fire truck and a firefighter suit for that. You had no clue why, but you blamed it on the boyish dreams of being a firefighter. Sure they all had those.

Neil was simply the designated driver and mission coordinator, and you hoped that meant he would stay out of harm. As much as that was possible for an idiot like him. You were not allowed to meet to stop TP from getting suspicious, and so all you could do was rely on texts and daily phone calls to keep you from going insane. The downside of the situation was that you could not slap Neil when he said questionable things. Examples being referring to the heist car as sexy (“And what if I told that it’s not the BMW that’s sexy?” “I’d be flattered”) and calling you his girlfriend on the call with Ives. That second incident resulted in the squad leader acting all smug because he apparently ‘figured it all out’. He did not, but who were you to prove him wrong.

And so, you perfected the plan, finished all the assigned tasks, and waited on instructions concerning the day of the mission. When they came, the message was simple – sit on your assess and wait, just in case the Cavalry was needed. You did not specifically like that ‘waiting’ part. Especially since Ives began insisting that you do not actually join them in the field. In his mind, the safest place for you was the flat. Not being a part of the squad and not having enough experience were the main factors acting against you. And you hated the fact that he was right. That is until the evening before the mission when an unexpected text from TP came. You were busy trying to understand the rules of a strange competition show on the television when your phone buzzed. Expecting something nonsensical from Neil, you picked it up instantly. Only to get shocked by the number on display. The message was straightforward:

“Join the squad in the field in Tallinn. You must be there”

Right… When you were asking the universe for help, you did not expect that. But it was better than nothing.

Without a further ado, you got up and wandered over to Ives, who was sat with Wheeler and Michael at the table. Upon your approach, the Brit looked up:

“Don’t tell me you’ve got some last-minute changes from Neil” his blue eyes were hazed with concern.

“No, I’ve got something better” you passed him the phone and waited for a response.

The widened stare and arched eyebrow was the initial reaction.

“He wouldn’t have sent if it wasn’t important” you added, hoping to win the case.

“I don’t get it” Ives sighed heavily, leaning back in the chair.

He glanced at Michael, who nodded and left the room. You just assumed that the discussion was not meant for any ordinary squad member.

“Apologies for my language, but you’re not a bloody soldier, and it might get rough out there” Ives spoke up again after a beat “And I don’t want to fucking worry about your safety amidst all the other mess” he met your gaze warily.

It was a little embarrassing to be considered a burden. You flinched internally before trying another approach.

“I know, but Neil might need me” as soon as you said the words, Ives scowled.

Of course, that just sounded like a lovesick teenager fighting for a hopeless case. And you hated that. But his very next words triggered the remains of resolve.

“Frankly, darling-”

You broke into a laugh, knowing the quotation well.

“I swear, if you quote Gone with the Wind right now, I’ll do something stupid” as a warning, you grabbed hold of the knife lying on the table, making Wheeler snicker quietly “Please, let me go out there. I can track his GPS signal or something. And well, you know that I’ve got a good aim. It might count for something” pleading was not your forte either but at the end of the speech, Ives’ gaze softened.

Maybe? He sighed once again before leaning his forehead on the folded forearms on the table.

“If you get hurt, he’ll kill me” he muttered gloomily.

“You’re exaggerating” you bit back a dry chuckle.

“No, he’s not” your head snapped up at the sound of Wheeler’s voice “But I’ve got to back you here if TP sent that text, then it’s probably important” she looked at you with a small smile.

“Thank you” you grinned back, grateful for the support.

With the days spent among men almost exclusively, Wheeler’s company meant a lot. Soon she became the only person you were willing to discuss your worries with. Because she was not keen on cracking dumb jokes about your relationship and asked questions that did not only concern Neil. And that was a welcomed change.

“You really need to be careful though, because Neil cares about you. Which probably makes you the most important person on this squad” her voice broke through your thoughts.

You knew she meant well, but the statement still made your cheeks heat up. Because did he really care?

“Don’t. You’re making me all flustered” deciding you’ve had enough of the awkwardness you got up to fix a tea.

“Well, I’m only speaking the truth here” turning back to the table, you saw Wheeler shrug “The physics boy took his fancy upon you, and that’s no funny business” she grinned at your perplexed expression.

Briefly, you glanced at Ives, who seemed to have given up on fighting with you and instead was listening in to the conversation with a neutral facial expression. The kettle boiling was your cue to respond:

“Great” semi-aggressively, you threw the tea bag into the mug poured the water “Did he though?” you asked, not even looking at them or expecting an answer.

“Yep,” Wheeler stood up and gave you a quick reassuring shoulder squeeze.

“I’ve never seen him like this before” Ives added once you turned to face him again.

That tea could not brew any longer…

“Not even with…” you hesitated before adding quietly, “Alex?”

“Not quite,” the man gave you an enigmatic smile, only increasing your frustration “You’ve convinced me though. You’re coming with us. Just please, for the sake of my sanity, be careful out there” you resisted the urge to jump up in relief “Because I’d rather not deal with an angry Neil. He’s a pain in the ass enough” Ives added darkly before getting up and joining you by the kitchen counter.

Smiling, you finished the tea.

“Thanks. I’ll do my best” playfully, you nudged his shoulder with yours “You can always blame me though” picking up the mug, you turned towards the corridor.

“As though he’d care” Ives muttered at your back.

The sudden surge of confidence was surprising yet also inspiring:

“I’d make him care. There are some things even he can’t say no to”

The last thing you heard upon closing the door to the bedroom was Ives choking on water.

*** The Tallinn mission for you began with an early morning phone call from Neil. You got as far as getting out of bed after having been staring at the ceiling anxiously for the past three hours when the phone rang.

“Morning,” you muttered, stifling a yawn.

Espresso was certainly needed. Maybe two, before you would have to head out.

“Hey,” the soft tone felt like a mild punch “I’m glad you’re up already” Neil’s sleepy voice made you wish you could wake up together again.

There was always that slightly husky tinge to it, the way he lazily pronounced some words just because it was early still. So different from the enthusiastic overenunciation when he was preaching another messed up plan of his. Or the cheeky inflections he tended to use with you during banter. It was terrifyingly easy to get to know him that well because of how open he was with you.

“I couldn’t sleep. But it’s okay I’ll manage” you admitted, distracting yourself from the sudden thoughts “I didn’t tell you last night, but I got another text from TP… he wants me to join the squad today”

From the moment you have shut the bedroom door the previous night, you have debated calling Neil about it. But then he initiated another rather amusing texting exchange focusing on his fashion choices, and you felt bad disrupting the peace. It could wait. Not anymore. You held your breath until Neil responded with a simple question:

“Why?” he was careful, and you could not blame him for it.

You perched on the windowsill and looked out at the quiet cityscape. The streets were strangely empty for a weekday morning. Sighing, you answered in the best way possible:

“I don’t know, but Ives said yes after some coaxing, so I might see you out there” smiling despite yourself, you waited for his response.

Since recently you had to rely on phone calls, it became increasingly easy to determine his mood based on the tone of the reply. Or on the various nonverbal noises he sometimes made. Now there was a quiet hum proceeding the sentence. A surprise, mild confusion, and worry. Brilliant.

“As much as I’m happy we might meet… and that you can see me in that sexy car,” you rolled your eyes awaiting the point “Please, be careful. I need you safe”

It was not disappointing. You knew he did not intend it that way, and yet the anxiety fuelled brain was onto it instantly. I need you… safe. Unable to stop the comment, you muttered:

“Just safe, then”

“What?” any hope that he might have missed it dissolved with that single question.

Could he for once not listen to what you say? You know, like men tended to do. But then Neil was by no means an ordinary man.

“Nothing. Don’t mind me” the attempt at saving your dignity failed too.

“I thought it goes without saying that I do need you. And that I want you”

Oh god. At once, you wanted to smash your head into the wall and to kiss the bastard for being the way he was. Adding to that sentence, the mental image of his sheepish smile was enough to make your heart speed up. When the silence stretched, becoming awkward, you whispered a reply.

“It’s good to hear it sometimes” the coldness of the window glass cooled off your blazed cheeks, “Especially when I don’t actually believe it” he knew that by now, undoubtedly.

Here the nonverbal cue was a half-choked sigh. Annoyance. Frustration.

“You should. I don’t go around telling everyone that” Neil’s confident voice was trying to pull you back “And I certainly don’t have moments as we do with anyone else” at the implication, you felt flustered again.

Because there did not an hour go by without you thinking about what happened. The pull between you was startling at times. The absolute desire you felt. The way Neil knew exactly how to make you remember every second of every moment. With the memories flooding your brain, you could only utter a single question:

“Why me?”

It was curiosity. Because apart from that evening months ago when you first tried to make sense of your budding relationship, he never said why he cared about you. And you would never dare ask. But now, with everything that happened, it was worth trying. And Neil was willing to deliver:

“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because you’re the bravest, kindest, most beautiful person I know” you could only keep on listening with your mouth agape “You fascinate me, and I want to discover all that you’re willing to give me” he finished in a reverent whisper.

That was not what you expected to hear. Not now. Not ever. Speechless, you wondered whether maybe this time it was not a mistake to give your heart away. It was too late. He had everything but your body; that was just a matter of time.

“Neil, I…” this was all you could manage, afraid you would give away another confession.

“Well, you’ve asked,” he chuckled lightly and then asked, “Are you okay?” you could picture that crease between furrowed eyebrows.

“I suppose-” a loud knock on your door interrupted the sentence; it was time, “I think I should probably join them for the final briefing…” hesitantly, you jumped off the sill.

Only two of you could be interrupted during such an important conversation.

“Go, I won’t keep you. Believe me, though, when I say that I want nothing but to be with you. In every way possible” your breath hitched at the connotation behind the sentiment.

Jesus, this man…

“That’s rather mutual,” like a secret you passed it to him on a sigh “But only when you’re not an ass” that was a much-needed distraction for you both.

There was work to be done, after all. You could hear the commotion in the apartment rise in volume and strength.

“I’ll do my best then. Good luck, darling” you grinned at the nickname he was determined to use.

Darling, you could do with. It was better than the ‘love’ that always made you feel like you were just another one among many.

“Don’t do anything stupid I still owe you a few slaps… and a payback” you added the necessary suggestive tone to the last word.

The rest was up to him to figure out. Which he did, if the pleased laughed was anything to go by.

“I’m very much looking forward to all of those” you missed that smirk.

“You should. Bye, my idiot,” you debated saving his number as that in your phone.

Maybe it was the way forwards.

“My love,” laughing, you ended the call when he uttered the words just for the sake of it.

But then that was Neil’s essence – doing things just because. Or to get a reaction from you. And you would not have it any other way.

*** Only when sitting in that bloody SUV, you learned the true meaning of waiting. And how much you hated to do that. There was nothing to do apart from sweating in the protective gear and avoiding the awkward small talk others were susceptible to. The squad has cramped into two non-descript vehicles, and you being the so-called precious cargo, ended up in the same car with Ives who have sworn to protect you. Only, for the first half-hour, there was nothing to protect you from. Apart from anxiety, boredom, and frustration.

Your role was rather simple – follow Neil’s signal on the map to know where you might be needed should he call for backup. As much as you did enjoy the possibility of tracking his movements somehow, you did not appreciate the cheeky smile Ives had on his face when he gave you the job. Or the comment combined with it: “Well, he’s your boyfriend, it’s only fair you keep him on the metaphorical leash here”. That is how the small blinking dot on the map of Tallinn became your sole focus for the past hour. Just before everything kicked off, Neil radioed you with a simple message: The mission is about to start. Wait for further instructions.

Ever since your morning phone call and the revelations that came out, you only exchanged a few texts concerning the practicalities of the action. Despite the nerves, you did hope to see him in near future. Even if just to check whether what he said was true. Looking for a distraction from the sudden thoughts, you glanced at the screen again. They were near, on the main junction of the highway, heading towards the port. Your SUVs were parked underneath a small overpass, five minutes away in the current traffic conditions. Which proved to be convenient, as it turned out.

“Is he still following the set route?” Ives’s question brought you to the present moment.

“Yeah, they’re-” you glanced to double-check the exact location when you realised that something has changed.

The dot was not moving. It was still blinking, but clearly, they have stopped at a crossing. Traffic lights? Your brain somehow knew that it could not be that simple. You opened your mouth to voice the thoughts when the comm came alive on the dashboard with static crackling:

“We need back up here. ASAP”

“Roger that” Ives tossed you the radio “Ask him about the details”

Without waiting for more information, Michael fired up the SUV engine as Ives contacted the second vehicle.

“Neil” you spoke into the receiver “What happened?” you flinched at the louder noise from the radio.

Gunshots?

“We’ve been ambushed by Sator’s people. TP’s status unknown”

Bloody brilliant. Swallowing down the rising worries, you asked another question:

“How many people?” another gunshot pierced the silence.

“Not sure. They’ve gotten clean up orders” a strained breath from Neil told you how bad the situation was.

“Okay. We’ll be there soon” you glanced at the road ahead.

Still, 2 mins to go. Anxiety was threatening to overpower you at any moment. But now was not the time.

“Hurry up” Neil closed the channel with a final dose of static.

Fuck… Forcing a deeper breath, you could only watch as you got closer to him. The sheer thought of something happening to Neil was unimaginable. That was enough to trigger panic. So you pushed the idea to the back of your head, focusing on the distance disappearing.

There was no mistaking the fact that you have been led to the right place. Crashed cars, asphalt littered with glass shards and broken parts, gunshots piercing the air. The destination looked like a car pile-up from an action sequence. Frantically looking through the windows, you tried to spot that blonde head. To no avail. The SUV came to a sharp halt as the squad members began jumping out of the vehicle. Once everyone else disembarked, you moved to follow them, only to be stopped by Ives:

“You’re staying here. I can’t have you out in the shoot-out” his blue gaze was stern, hand blocking exit out of the car.

The idea that you were so close to Neil and could not see him was enough to make you angry.

“I can handle myself. And he’s-” you spit out the words in the face of the squad leader while trying to push him away.

“I said no. The conversation’s over” with a final glare, he stepped away and scanned the horizon for immediate danger “If someone approaches the car, you know what to do,” he threw as a parting remark and disarmed the rifle.

Fucking hell! Groaning in frustration, you kicked one of the seats. He was so close. You glanced at the device in your hand. He could not be further than behind the first line of crashed cars. Biting on your lip harshly, you quickly went over the options. One was to obey Ives and stay inside the bloody SUV like a well-behaved child everyone apparently took you for. No one seemed to care about the vehicles you parked on the outskirts of the action. Flinching at the further salve from the heavy artillery, you knew that the squad had joined the fray. You could be safe here… but… Taking a deep breath you knew there was no possibility you could stay away from the action. Not when Neil was there, potentially in danger. It was not possible to give up on someone that important just because you were told to. Christ…

Glancing through the windows again, you could see Sator’s people attempting to clear the place. The squad evidently attempted to push at them from one side, hoping to get a clean sweep that way. Then, just as you were about to go back to the internal crisis overwhelming your thoughts, you did a double-take. Surely not? You would recognize that hair colour everywhere. There he was attempting what was looking like a skirting manoeuvre to circle the mercenaries with the Cavalry on the opposite side. Only that left him completely uncovered, in the direct line of fire. Bloody idiot. The instinct to jump out and run to him kicked in. The only thing holding you back was the fact that you would disobey the orders. And leave the car unguarded. All the hesitation disappeared once the comm in the car crackled with static:

“Emergency assistance needed. ASAP” the tension in his voice made your pulse quicken.

The lack of response from the team made all the blood drain from your face. You could see him trying to hide behind some overturned car. The henchmen were near enough to get him with no problem.

That thought was all the convincing you needed. Swearing, you quickly pocketed the tracking device, adjusted your protective gear, and grabbed the gun. You have been offered a rifle (just in case), but you preferred the classic. At least it was something right?

In two leaps, you have covered the distance. With the team trying to get through the attack line on the other side, it was just you and Neil. You shot a round in the direction of the approaching merc, missing the target yet earning attention from the main object of your focus. His eyes met yours across the plane. You could see shock, worry, and something else there. Suddenly a salve whizzed past you. The bullets cutting through the air all around, shooting past your head and piercing the car behind. A strangled yell from Neil was a surprising reaction, yet you did not blink twice. He was all you could see. With a final surge through the field, you reached him. The pure fury and anguish in his eyes took you aback. Have you missed something? But there was no time to ask questions.

“Go, I’ll cover you” you whispered, looking at the approaching group of mercs.

Neil took an additional moment to stare at you as though he could not quite believe you were there. But then he jumped up, aiming the gun at the man closest to you. The same that undoubtedly attempted to take you out seconds prior. When the mercenary fell with a bullet in the head, you stared in shock. There was no time to recover as Neil pushed through, barely looking behind at you. It was surprisingly easy to tune out the emotions, taking out anyone who could threaten him or halt your advances. You worked well together, movements in sync enough to stun the opponents on a few occasions. For a second, you wondered whether it was only bound to get better the closer you get to each other. That was certainly an interesting idea… In no time you have met with the line of the squad, watching on as Ives dealt with the last man standing. You have won. The adrenaline started to leave your body, resulting in tremors and shaking hands. Clutching the gun to prevent it from cluttering to the ground, you met the exasperated gaze of the squad leader. Your only response was a shrug. You did not regret the decision, seeing as you have evidently helped them in the field.

“Neil? Do you know where TP is?” Ives took his attention off you and looked at the blonde man.

You followed his gaze, for the first time actually looking at Neil since you spotted him across the plane. At the moment, you were struck by what a sight he was. Navy shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose the forearms covered with veins. The same tie he had on during your walk. Your pulse quickened. The vest drawing attention to the ratio between his broad shoulders and narrow hips, accentuated with a belt. Brown loose-cut trousers and scrapped leather shoes adding a classy touch. You were aware that you were staring yet unable to look away. Not knowing whether to blame it on the adrenaline rush, you wanted nothing but to touch him. Take off those driving gloves that piqued your interest at the first sight. Or have them be wrapped around your throat with just enough pressure. Get rid of the tie again. And…

“Think Sator took him” Neil’s response broke through your increasingly hazy thoughts.

Shaking off the images that started appearing, you looked up at his face again. The ruffled hair and flushed cheeks were not helpful. Fuck’s sake. It had to be stress. Because what else?

“Their place in the port?” Ives asked, his tone nothing but strict business.

“That’s my bet” Neil shrugged, looking around with something dark in his eyes.

He was tense, like a feral animal that could lash out any moment. You were not wrong. The cold blue gaze settled on you almost remorsefully, but before you could open your mouth, he snapped:

“What the fuck were you thinking?” the hostile edge to his voice was new.

You flinched as though you have been hit. The lack of physical impact did not matter. Your heart stammered. He need not explain what it was about. Please no.

“You needed a cover. They weren’t responding, so I did the obvious” you shrugged, feeling the anger grow “And I could ask you the same question” spitting the sentence into his face, you took a step closer.

You have never seen him that furious. Not even in Oslo after your little fuck-up. The sight was both terrifying and alluring. The dark blue eyes blazed with fury. Jaw clenched. Slight pink tint on the cheeks. And yet, still, you had no idea why he reacted like this.

“I knew what I was doing. That’s the difference” the coldness of his voice threw you off.

So it was real. He did mean it. You tried to save him, and here he was, pissed off at you. Making you almost regret it. Almost, because the love was there too. Not giving away no matter what.

“That’s bullshit” it felt good to admit, “You were reckless, as always, and expecting me to-” your rant got interrupted by a strangled yell.

Nothing prepared you for the revelation then. Or the sudden anguish on his face.

“You were almost shot!” Neil’s eyes glistened as though he was close to tears.

Suddenly it made sense. The rain of bullets you were hit with just before getting to him. The way he reacted. But you made it. Nothing happened. So why was he acting like that?

“Almost” ignoring the growing pain in your chest, you pointed out the obvious.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Ives and the rest of the squad observing you. You would rather not have an audience, but then Neil seemed determined to drive his point forward. His face scrunched into a pained scowl.

“Fucking hell,” turning away from your gaze, his back tensed even more “You can’t do shit like that just because I’m involved” the defensive tone took you aback.

What? It was getting worse. You could feel the confidence leaving your body as you struggled for a response. You would never think Neil would do something like that. Not after everything you have told him. Figuring out the only way you that could work, you took your own line of attack.

“Who says I did it only because it was you?” the implication hurt because it was partially correct “Quite an ego you’ve got there” his back was still turned to you.

That angered you even more. Crossing the distance, you placed your hand on his shoulder, making him turn to you. He flinched upon the contact as though your touch burned him. Oh my god. The tears welled up in your eyes. It could not be real. But the emotionless look in the eyes you thought you knew was very much real. It was as though before you realised Neil has built up a wall, guarding himself against you. And there was nothing you could do to get through. You got shocked by the cruel smirk that split his face.

“I can see the way you look at me. As though you wanted to-” you interrupted him sharply.

“Neil”

It was too much. Perhaps because it was true. But he was not done. Persistent to keep going.

“Admit it. It’s because you said some things, and now you can’t bear the thought of losing the object of your affection” the careless tone and the words pierced your heart with gut-wrenching pain “Well, you see, sometimes feelings need to be put aside” he added, almost casually.

Fuck. You gasped, unable to keep a straight face. He might as well see what he has done. Some things. So this is how much your confession meant to him. Good to know. You wanted to slap him, but you felt like that could turn back on you. So instead, you made sure to straighten your back, putting on the familiar mask of neutrality. You have done this before. Probably should have expected it. Only why did it hurt ten times more?

“Can we leave the bloody lovers quarrel till later?” Ives’s voice pierced through the tension.

But you were not ready. Raising your hand in a stopping motion, you turned back to Neil. His face was terrifyingly indifferent. Maybe it was all an act. Or maybe it was just that easy for him to get over whatever you thought you had. A lie. Gathering the smithereens of confidence, you forced a levelled tone:

“Says you. As though you’re acting out of reason right now” you gave him your best impression of the sneer visible on his face.

You could crumble at any moment now. Only the pounding in your ears and the wounded pride were keeping you upwards. But Neil wanted to destroy everything.

“More than you” he glanced at the team waiting impatiently “I really thought you’d know better than this” the punchline was more than you could take.

No. Please no. Your knees buckled, and you swayed. But then you caught the flash of concern in his eyes. Just for a split of a second. So it was not all cold and hatred? You heard Ives huff out a string of curses. There was no time for this. Whatever it even was. Honesty it was then.

“Better than to give away my heart to someone like you? Evidently not” you met his eyes for the final time before walking away in the direction of the SUVs.

The shock you saw in Neil’s face was enough to fuel the survival instincts. With the heart broken or not, the mission was still on. And the rest was silence.