#l just went back to reread their first conversation together and ugh

[professorlegaspi]

So crazy that Celia was raised as an only child but is an older sister and Neeghan was raised as an older sister but is the youngest child

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Chapter 4 - Of the D.A. and the good ol’ fashioned muggle beating

series masterlist

tags:  @weasleysbees ; @gloryekaterina​ ; @thatguppienamedbae​ ; @sagittarius-flowerchild​​; @hufflepuff5972​ ; @pandaxnienke​ ;  @izzyyy-1 and also @valwritesx​ because you mentioned wanting to give it a read

if you’d like to be added/removed, send a DM or an ask

warnings: swearing, sexual references, mentions of food, violence, a tiny bit of angst word count: 2895 a/n: I had so much fun getting back to this, but simultaneously, at the moment of checking and editing it I’m on my period and super irritable, so I’m not confident about how it came out, didn’t wan’t to hold it up any longer, though, so I hope you like it.

If you have any feedback, please let me know!

—————④—————

 “Are you sure this is going to work?” Alicia Spinnet asked in a tiny whisper. “It has to, I mean, why wouldn’t it? It’s really simple, nothing complicated,” you answered while scoping an intersection before taking a turn. “Why didn’t we take Angie..?” Alicia fretted. “Oh, you know what she’d say. Besides, she’s got important things on her mind now, the quidditch team and all…” “Right, right…” Alicia nodded, “but we could’ve asked Fred and George..?” she complained, looking around the dark corridors. “We don’t need them,” you whispered back, “we can do this on our own, now pull yourself together, girl..!” you said, trying to hide just how nervous you were yourself. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” she started walking a little closer to you, as you lit the way with your wand, holding it low enough not to wake the portraits. “We’ve got this.”

 “How much do we need?” Alicia questioned, scraping some moss off of an old castle wall. “I dunno… a lot?” you shrugged your shoulders and she glared at you, “keep going, definitely more than that.”

“Did you hear that?” she froze, terrified. You looked around the two of you, scanning your surroundings as your heart rate spiked up, “I didn’t hear anything. Let’s switch, you keep a lookout,” you instructed.

 “Here goes nothing,” you pointed your wand at the bucket, standing in an abandoned storage room, in an empty part of the castle, “geminio.”

The bucket multiplied.

“Awesome…” said Alicia, before a long yawn escaped her lips. “Minnie would be proud of me,” you noted, then performed the same spell a few more times.

 —————④—————

 You were quite weary the next morning, having breakfast with Angelina and Alicia, who was having trouble staying awake over her bowl of cereal.

“Morning,” greeted Fred and George, sliding into empty seats, even though they had free period first, and were lazily greeted back.

Hermione was reading The Daily Prophet a few seats further, and after a few seconds Fred asked, “Inspections..?” “Yeah, she’s gonna be sitting in on our lessons now, apparently. To make reports,” Angelina answered flatly, with a bit of irritation in her voice. “Oh, that should be fun,” George commented, to which Fred added, “I bet, a real shit-show” with a smirk.

Only then George glanced at the still not quite healed sentence on your hand and his face fell a bit, as your friends continued the conversation. Instead of going over the same thoughts once again, he took notice of your posture, facial expression and tired eyes.

“What’s up?” he nudged you with his elbow lightly. “Huh..?” you mumbled. “You look like death,” he stated. “Oh, thanks, charmer,” you replied sarcastically, pouring yourself a bit more coffee. “Everything alright?” George asked. “Yeah, stayed up late, is all,” you answered, avoiding further explanation and George nodded in response.

“What do you have first period?” he asked after a bit of silence, even though he knew the answer. “Ancient runes.”

 Later that day, before lunch, you had charms with Flitwick. It was one of few classes George, Fred and you had together.

As soon as the three of you walked into the classroom you noticed the pink toad standing at the front, talking to Flitwick, and you groaned involuntarily.

You walked over to one of the long benches to take your usual seat. George, instead of going to the next one and take his usual seat with Fred behind you, kept walking with you.

“Ehm, excuse me? That’s- that’s my seat,” Clint Nicholson, the Ravenclaw boy who usually sat next to you, pointed out. George gave him a single glance, “find a new one, mate,” he told him and you watched, a bit puzzled. “Will do.” Clint nodded right away and walked away, sitting next to some housemate of his.

“What was that for?” you asked, puzzled, once Clint set his books down. George looked at you with his eyebrows slightly raised. “For your information, I’m here to make sure you don’t end up boiling up again, with her around,” he said, pointing quickly at Umbridge, then ruffled your hair.

You had no energy to argue, so you looked at him dazed for a couple seconds more. “Sorry,” he added quietly, fixing a few strands of hair he messed up on top of your head.

 —————④—————

 “Wait, is it the musty old shack at the end of one of the side roads?” Lee asked, shoving a bag full of Zonko’s merch in his backpack.

You had just finished shopping with the boys and the four of you were headed to the Hog’s Head Inn. Fred and George had a rough idea of where the pub could be but you were the only one who knew the location.

“I think, isn’t it?” said Fred, before you could answer. “Oooh I know now, the place where the owner has the goat..!” Lee exclaimed like it was the most exciting piece of information in the world, but that was just his talent. “The goat?” George questioned, puzzled, walking with his hands in his pockets. “I mean, a goat. But I heard the guy l e g i t  has a goat in there. Like, as a pet,” Lee went on, “or maybe..? Do you think he..?” he trailed off with a suggestive facial expression, making the twins laugh.

“Ugh, stop right there,” you halted their train of thought with disgust written on your face, trying not to picture it. “But yes, that is the place. Reckon we’re gonna need something less crowded... Dodgier.”

 You were the last people to join in. After everyone had a butterbeer in hand, they gathered round in front of Harry and you settled in a chair next to Fred and George. The crowd was versatile, mostly 5th years, with a few younger and older people.

Hermione was the one that started talking and then the conversation rolled around the topic of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Although you were quite skilled in that department, wanting to be an Auror, there were always things you could learn or practice, or maybe even help some others.

They started arguing about Harry’s accomplishments. He spoke about how difficult it was, you hadn’t expected to be so moved but when he spoke about being near losing a friend or really losing one, the reality hit you properly. It got you thinking about what if, as you looked at a pair of hands scrunching up a beanie to your right. What if you lost George?

 Coming to Hogwarts, you weren’t one of the most confident kids. You got sorted into Gryffindor and naturally got somewhat close to other Gryffindors in your year. George and Fred were wild from day one. They were easy-going and somehow always managed to make you feel comfortable. By the end of your first year, you’d already considered them your proper friends.

It was always easier with George. Although you’d also trust Fred with everything and in return, you could kill for him, you’d always go to George first. So it became not only Fred, George and Y/N but also George and Y/N.

George was always there and understood. With George, you could communicate without words. He always had the right thing to say when you needed him most, and where words were unnecessary or ineffective, he knew the right thing to do. All that on top of being an all-around great guy.

You were always each other’s biggest support, and over the years developed some shared interests. You could still remember the time you discovered your shared love for one particular book series and how it became so special.

It was in your second year that you mentioned reading it. You had just been rereading the second tome right before the third was about to come out. George shared that he loved the books too, but Fred found the plot boring and overcomplicated. When the third tome came out, you both rushed with your pocket money to buy it and raced each other who could read it faster. You had so much fun with it and sharing your thoughts, you couldn’t wait until the continuation would come out. Next year, however, when the book was about to be released, George was really sheepish about it. After many attempts, you managed to learn that with George’s younger brother starting school, his parents didn’t have enough money for him to buy the book. So you did, and you read it together – that’s how the tradition started. As the series was continued, no matter which one of you paid for the book, you’d always read it together. Over the years you forgot about the money aspect of it – you just loved spending hours upon hours with your best friend, engrossed in your favourite story. Sharing the experience with George made it that much more amusing, memorable and so, so special.

So after all that, what would happen if he was gone one day?

“That’s not what he said,” you were pulled out of your thoughts by Fred’s voice when he snarled at Zacharias Smith. George pulled some long, metal object out of his Zonko’s bag, “Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?” he inquired. “Or any part of your body, really, we’re not fussy where we stick this,” added Fred.

A wide grin appeared on your face and you started blinking away some tears you hadn’t even noticed were about to appear a moment before. You looked down at your feet, not wanting George to notice that, but you still smiled to yourself.

You were proud to call those two your friends.

 —————④—————

 The following Monday, walking to breakfast with your roommates you noticed a giant notice on the board in the common room. The sign declared all student organizations, societies, teams, groups, and clubs disbanded. This new information took a turn on everyone, you spent a long time trying to help Angelina calm down as it meant their quidditch team as well. The great hall was filled with buzz that morning and the Dumbledore’s Army stood in question. Everyone decided to stick to the plan, though, so you did.

Over the next few days Fred and George some massive boils as a result of their unfinished formula for Fever Fudge. It proved a great joking material for you, up until Fred threatened to show them to you if you didn’t stop. Angelina also managed to get permission to reform their quidditch team, meaning your friends would spend a lot of time on the pitch now, with 3 weeks until the first match of the season.

 —————④—————

 “Well,” said Harry, slightly nervously. “This is the place we’ve found for practices, and you’ve — er — obviously found it okay —” “It’s fantastic!” said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement. “It’s bizarre,” said Fred, frowning around at it. “We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then…”

“A room that gives you whatever you need, whenever you need it? That would’ve come in handy,” you exclaimed, looking around once again. “Yeah, for you, I bet. More spacious than a broom cupboard, isn’t it?” Fred teased you with a shit-eating grin. You immediately reached your foot, over a puzzled looking George, to kick him. Fred wasn’t talking about anything that actually happened but you felt a bit embarrassed nonetheless.

Your first practice session felt very odd, but also fun. You practised the disarming charm, and you partnered up with Neville. He even managed to disarm you a couple of times.

 —————④—————

 The morning of the match, Gryffindor vs Slytherin, you separated from Fred and George with a kick in the butt for good luck and headed to find the best seat.

The game was dynamic and it turned really aggressive – as most games against Slytherin did. This time, however, they developed a song ‘Weasley is our King’ to get into the team’s, and especially Ron’s, minds. It drove everyone even more.

You were at the edge of your seat and didn’t know where to look. You clutched the ends of your Gryffindor scarf tightly, biting your lip constantly and your gaze alternated between keeping track of the quaffle and following George around. He was doing brilliantly, as always.

The game ended suddenly, Harry caught the snitch and Gryffindor won. Your happiness was mixed with concern as you saw him get hit square in the back by a bludger the moment he caught the snitch. You made your way down to see if he was alright and congratulate your friends.

When you finally reached the pitch your stomach immediately sank and you knew something was wrong. The air felt thick. It was just the two teams on the grass and everyone looked on edge, Fred and George stood stiff.

You heard Malfoy say something indistinctly to you and the twins were about to jump on him, being held down by the rest of the team.

You continued walking towards them but George didn’t see you, he was too focused on Malfoy talking about his family. His jaw was clenched and his whole body tense, shoulders straight – he seemed even taller and bigger than usual.

But the moment Malfoy mentioned Harry’s parents, he let go of George and the both of them tackled Draco. You froze in spot, not knowing what to do. You were scared for George, not wanting him to get hurt or get in trouble, but you couldn’t deny Malfoy deserved it and seeing George land punch after a punch on the prat was scary but satisfying. Seeing him stand up for his family and a friend was also something completely else, which you wouldn’t admit to yourself.

 —————④—————

 You closed the door to George’s dorm. Fred was out somewhere, blowing some steam off and none of the team members was in the mood to celebrate tonight after three great players got a lifetime ban.

George had showered and changed, he lay sprawled out across the bed, covering his eyes with his forearm.

You put down the few things you brought, that could help with the cut and swelling on his lip, on the bedside table and sat down next to him.

“Can you sit up?” you instructed quietly, with a soft voice. You felt so bad for him and couldn’t imagine how bad he must’ve felt. And you knew he was angry, still.

He took a deep breath after a few seconds, then sat up. Both his hands were now clutching the bed tightly and he stared straight ahead, he avoided looking you in the eye.

You soaked a cotton swab and squeezed the excess, then turned back to him and moved a bit closer, so that your work was easier, and your thighs were touching now. You placed one of your hands on his jaw to hold his head in place. You made a mental note to yourself now was not the time to point out it was time to shave. You started dabbing silently and George winced quietly at the first touch.

“Did he mean that..?” you asked after a minute or so, barely audible. “What?” George mumbled and you put the swab away. “Is it true..? That quidditch was the only thing keeping you here?” you paused to take a deeper breath, “are you going to just leave now?”

George shifted on the bed and looked away, showing signs of irritation, then looked down at his hands, fiddling in his lap. His features softened, he rested elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands, sighing deeply.

His silence disturbed you, and you also shifted, turning to face him.

“Maybe for Fred. We talked about this for a bit, but… Yes, you do make this shit-hole bearable.” “…but?” “But if we’re talking school-specific? Nothing. You know we don’t need to sit here. We have the money, we could start up the shop and start doing real things,” he looked at you, “Y/N, we’re friends outside of school, if I left, I wouldn’t just vanish out of your life. And you’d do fine without me here.” “Yeah, just peachy, George!” You huffed, “it’s 8 months! Eight whole-fucking-months, the year has barely started.” “Relax, I didn’t say we’re leaving.” You relaxed a bit, slouching. “There’s still a bit more testing we could do here, and also the D.A. stuff...” He added.

You were quiet for a bit, both avoiding each other’s eyes.

“Are you upset I beat Malfoy up?” George asked, slightly subdued This surprised you slightly. “No, I’m not. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, considering the consequences,” you waved your hands around and shrugged your shoulders, “but also, the prat deserved it. Annd it was nice to see you in action,” you said with a chuckle and a faint smile appeared on his face with a raised brow, “good to know what you’re capable of, if needed.”

He tried his best to hold back the grin, but couldn’t, “capable, huh?” he questioned. You blushed, because you didn’t mean to make it sound suggestive, and you were about to start explaining yourself when he tackled you, tickling your sides.

All your attempts to defend yourself, attack him back or get out of his grasp were pointless.

You had to just let go and surrender.

[chaeryybomb]

“8 hours and counting...” || l.dh

anon: “Can you do a best friends to lovers with nct haechan?”

a/n: here you go! thank you so much for requesting and I might’ve went a bit overboard with this,,,

pairing: lee haechan/lee donghyuck x gender neautral reader

genre: best friend to lovers!au, college!au, fluff, slight angst, haechan lowkey being a jerk, slow burnish?

featuring: mark lee, huang renjun, lee jeno, na jaemin and choi jongho

word count: 2.3k (oops)

summary: haechan misunderstood the situation thinking you had found a boyfriend and allows jealousy to take over and it is up to you, to slap— well, more like kiss him back into reality.

Haechan stared at the red iPhone in front of him. Well, more like he was glaring at the device. The reason was because he sent a text to his dear best friend, L/N Y/N, asking to meet up at the cafe because he was bored and he wanted to spend time with you.

He sent that text a few hours ago. 8 hours ago to be more precise, his brain taunted.

Sighing, he stood and paced around the room as endless scenarios ran through his head. Usually you would’ve answered his text within seconds after he sent it, the latest you ever took was 20 minutes! And that was because you were in a replacement class! Haechan knew your schedule like the back of his hand, of course he knew when you were free to text. And this was one of the moments, so where the hell was you?

Maybe you had a replacement class you forgot to mention. Haechan scratched their side of his head as he tried to remember if you had any classes cancelled in the past week. You didn’t. What if you were kidnapped?! His eyes widened at the thought. Oh no, should he make a police report? But you have to be missing for 24 hours before you’re “officially” a missing person and it’s only been 8 hours and 47 minutes... (Technically 8 hours felt like 8 years in Haechan’s book.)

Before he could think of even worse situations, Haechan’s phone rang out loud and the boy quickly dived to answer it. He groaned in disappointment once he read the contact name. It wasn’t you, just stupid Mark Lee. He swiped the accept button and raised the phone to his ear. “What?!” He asked annoyed.

“Woah, someone woke up on the wrong side of bed today,” Mark said on the other line.

“Hahaha, very funny Minhyung. What do you want?” Haechan replied with a sarcastic laugh.

“Jesus, I was going to ask if you want to go to the arcade today. Renjun said he’s going to beat your high score at Super Mario,” Mark explained.

At mention Renjun, Haechan could hear his voice yelling, “Be there or be square!” in the background.

Haechan swiped out of the call app and into his texts, his message was still on delivered. At least it was better than being left on read, right? But there was also a 80% chance of you being missing.

“Hello? Dude, you there?” Mark’s voice drew Haechan out his thoughts. Haechan shook his head, maybe the arcade would be a good distraction.

“Yeah, I’m in.”

The arcade was not a good distraction.

“Bro, are you okay?” Mark asked as he slung his arm over the younger one. “Renjun beat you in Super Mario. I repeat, you—“ he jabbed his finger at Haechan’s shoulder “—lost to Renjun!”

Renjun, who was sitting across from Mark, kicked his shin under the table. The older hissed in pain as he grabbed his leg. Mark glared at the boy in front of him, who’s now indulging himself in a conversation with Jeno, pretending like he didn’t stab Mark on the shin with the back of his heel.

Haechan mindlessly stirred his soda with the plastic straw, the whole time his mind was occupied with you, you and you. He made a mental note to blame you the next time he sees you. It’s stupid Y/N’s fault that he lost to Renjun in Super Mario! Ugh, now he has to play the damn game again just to get back his rightful place at the top of the leaderboard.

He looked at his phone the nth time since he entered the arcade. His lockscreen was empty from any notifications. No new messages or any missed calls. His wallpaper was a picture of him and you, who was on his back. It was a candid picture (courtesy of Jaemin) and the two of you were caught in the middle of laughing. He loves the picture, but right now it’s becoming a reminder that you have yet to reply to his message. It’s officially been 12 hours since his text. 12 hours and still nothing.

Suddenly, his ears perked up at the sound of someone’s laughter. Not just anyone, he knew whose laugh was that. It was yours. There’s no doubt that it was your laugh, he’s heard it his entire life. (And it’s also his favorite sound but he’d rather die than admit that.) Haechan sat up straighter and craned his neck, his eyes scanning the area for a certain person.

And there you were, standing in all your glory. His eyes lit up once he found you, but they immediately darkened in the next second. You weren't alone, beside you was another boy. A boy that he did not recognize. He saw you open your mouth to say something which resulted in the boy to ruffle your hair and sling his arm around your neck. The two walk past their table from the mini cafeteria and into the arcade. You didn’t even notice him.

Haechan’s fist tightened around the head of the chair as he watched you and the boy laugh together. Who the fuck was he and why the fuck was he with you? Mark seemed to notice where Haechan was staring and spoke up.

“Oh hey, isn’t that Y/N? HEY Y—MMPH!” Haechan swiftly moved to slap his hand over Mark’s mouth. He waited till you and the mystery boy disappeared into the aisle of arcade machines and finally slumped back into his seat.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Mark demanded and glared at the boy beside him.

Haechan rolled his eyes at the older and slumped back deeper into his seat, a pout on his lips. Mark paid no mind to him and just ruled it as one of his moments. While the other boys were laughing at Jeno choking on a french fry, a thousand thoughts were running through Haechan’s mind. The main one was who was the guy with you?

You couldn’t possibly have a boyfriend, right? No, you wouldn’t. You would’ve told him. That’s what best friends do, right? But that’s what he’s always going to be to you.

The best friend. He hates it.

Something’s wrong with Haechan. You’re sure of it. You stared at your phone in your hand as you reread his reply over and over again.

Haechan [8:33am]: hey you wanna go to the cafe for breakfast??

Haechan [8:35am]: hello???

Haechan [8:35am]: y/nnnnn

Haechan [8:36am]: don’t ignore meee :((

You [9:42pm]: omg im so so sorry

You [9:42pm]: im sorry hyuck i was at a family reunion :(((

You [9:43pm]: we can go to the cafe tomorrow if you’re still up for it!

Haechan [9:45pm]: i have plans tomorrow. maybe next time.

You [9:46pm]: alright..

First of all, Haechan would’ve popped off at you for replying to his texts so late and for ignoring him the whole day unintentionally. And secondly, he would’ve sent multiple texts at once, all caps and fighting emojis. Not just “i have plans tomorrow. maybe next time.”

“Who are you and what did you do to my best friend,” you mumbled to yourself. You sighed to yourself and placed your phone back on your desk. Maybe he’s really mad at you for ignoring him the whole day. In your defense, you were showing your cousin around town! You hadn’t checked your phone the entire day.

‘I should probably get him coffee as an apology tomorrow,’ you thought to yourself as you got ready for bed. Yeah, coffee sounds like a good plan.

You were wrong. It was not a good plan. It all started the next morning when you sent a good morning text to Haechan. He didn’t reply to you. You found it weird but you brushed it off. Maybe he was rushing off to school. He had a habit of waking up late anyways.

But the moment you saw him at campus, he immediately took off without giving you a chance to call out for him. Even weirder. Every corner you turn, there he is laughing with someone else but the moment you take your eyes off him for a second, he’s gone. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched Haechan trying to subtly walk away from you. He can’t really be that mad at you, right?

It has been 4 days since you last saw Haechan and it basically confirmed your suspicions. He was avoiding you. But the question was why?

You tried to remember if you did anything to piss him off the past week but your brain gave you nothing. You tried asking his friends but they shrugged as they didn’t know the reason as well. You finally decide that you had enough of it and go to confront him.

So that’s how you ended up in front of Haechan’s apartment door. You rang the doorbell and waited, rocking back and forth on your heels. You heard shuffling coming from behind the door and it opened to reveal a just-woken-up-from-a-nap Haechan.

You smiled at him once he opened the door but Haechan’s eyes widened and he slammed the door shut. You blinked. What just happened? Regaining from the shock of his actions, you wasted no time and bent down to get the spare key under the welcome mat.

You quickly opened the door to his apartment and stepped in, ready to give Haechan a piece of your mind for his stupid antics. Haechan shrieked when he saw you came in.

You glared at him and jut her finger at him accusingly. “You’ve been avoiding me,” you said.

Haechan gulped and played it off. “No, I have not,” he said through gritted teeth and walked past you to the kitchen.

“Yes, yes you have! I texted you and you didn’t even reply back for days, Haechan,” you said, following him into the kitchen.

“Taste of your own medicine, then,” he mumbled under his breath. But it was loud enough for you to pick it up.

You raised a brow and scoffed. “Is this because I didn’t answer your texts the other day?”

Haechan turned his head to the side, not wanting to make eye contact. His lack of response told you that it was a yes.

“Haechan, you can’t be serious. I told you I was at a family reunion!”

You stared at him with your doe eyes widened. “Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend, what are you talking about?”

“Are you sure you weren’t out with your boyfriend,” he blurted out. Haechan slapped his hand over his mouth, that wasn’t supposed to be said out loud.

“I saw you with another guy at the arcade that day,” he blurted out once again. He winced once those words left his mouth. Dang it Haechan, couldn’t he keep his mouth shut just this once?

You blinked for a few seconds before realization finally settled in. You couldn’t help but laugh at his accusation, causing Haechan to glare at you. “You mean Jongho? He’s my cousin,” you told him after you stopped laughing.

Oh.

Your cousin. The word echoed in his head. The "boyfriend" was just your cousin.

“Besides,” you added, leaning against the counter, “why would you care if I got a boyfriend anyway? What, do you like me or something?”

Haechan visibly stiffened at the last sentence. Oh boy, he hopes you didn’t notice him freeze. But of course you noticed it, you noticed every detail of him.

“Wait, do you actually like me?” You asked. You were internally panicking. Holy shit, does he like you? It’s too good to be true, right?

“Yeah,” he said quietly after a few seconds of silence. He was looking down at his feet. “Is that a bad thing?” He whispered, finally lifting his head up to meet your gaze.

‘Of course it isn't, because I like you too,’ you wanted to tell him. You had liked him the moment he introduced himself as your neighbour when they were 6 years old. But the way he flirts around other girls always gave you the thought that he didn’t feel the same.

You stayed silent too long for Haechan’s liking. ‘Oh no, they’re going to reject me,’ he thought. Before you could even open his mouth, he quickly added on, “It’s okay if you don’t like me though! I totally get it.”

“Haechan—“

“No, no it’s okay, Y/N. I understand. You don’t like me, I mean of course you wouldn’t. You probably see me as a brother and nothing more. So let’s just forget this ever happened and—“

He was too busy rambling to notice that you were advancing towards him. You got on your tiptoes and gave him a peck on his lips. Haechan immediately shut up, and froze on the spot. It was merely a peck but it was more than enough to make him stop working. His cheeks were now red at the sudden contact. You had an amused smile in your lips.

“D-Does this mean you like me too?” He stuttered out.

Instead of saying anything, you nodded and wrapped your hands around his neck, bringing him down for another kiss, this time it was longer. Haechan smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms around your waist.

When you pulled away, you whispered, “I like you too, idiot.”

[bonus]

“Wait, so Jongho is that cousin who could break apples with his hand? While singing?!” Haechan repeated what you told him. You were now sitting on his lap, your back against his chest, his arms around you.

“Uh huh, he even broke a watermelon with his finger once,” you added. “And he’s like an older brother to me, so if you ever break my heart...”

Haechan visibly shuddered at the thought of Jongho breaking his neck. He hugged you tighter and buried his head into your neck, causing you to let out a laugh.

thank you for reading and requests are open!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ash I think the drabble we all need but didn’t know we needed is Danny and Nate each telling Dr. Rosa about their first time since Bram. (Pre bad arc)

CW: References to noncon/dubcon, therapeutic discussion of the aftermath of prolonged captivity/conditioning/noncon.

TIMELINE: Approximately two months prior to the beginning of the Bad Arc. 

Tagging the Danny crew because this got long and Danny is a delight dumbass in it: @finder-of-rings, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, @burtlederp, @whumpywhumper, @18-toe-beans, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @whale-whumps, @swordkallya

Tagging the Danny crew: @finder-of-rings, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, @burtlederp, @whumpywhumper, @18-toe-beans, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @whale-whumps, @swordkallya

“Nate, we are at forty-five minutes of our hour,” Dr. Rosa says patiently, leaning over with her arms resting lightly on her open notebook, reading glasses perched at the end of her nose. “There is something you came in here to tell me, and you have spent three-quarters of an hour telling me everything but that thing. What is it?”

Nate shrugs, swallowing hard. She’s right - he really has. He’s talked about Danny’s recent strides forward - but not the one he’s actually here to talk about - like how he walks by himself to the coffeeshop now, ran two miles the other day and came back sweaty and breathing hard but then he ate an entire meal’s worth of food all at once, and it was… it was normal.

He’s talked about his own halting steps - how he has fewer bad days, lately, they’ve finally found the right dosage to mostly even out the swings between feeling okay and feeling unable to move… and he feels more able to push down the inevitable wash of guilt if he sits still for too long. He even told her about how he took Ryan’s car by himself to the grocery store, and bought everything on Danny’s list, and he’s fairly certain no one looked at him twice.

But he hasn’t talked about the thing that he’s been thinking about since, oh, about nine-thirty Wednesday night.

“I, ah…” He swallows again, compulsively, leaning forward himself where he sits on the couch. “I. Um. Wh-what I came to… what I was th-thinking about-… ah.”

His face is burning red, and he tilts his head forward so at least some of his straight black hair can cover it. He rubs at the stubble along his jaw with one hand, closes his eyes, and forces the words out.

“Danny and I, um, h-had… we… sl-slept together. Wednesday n-n-night.”

There’s a pause.

“From your reluctance, may I gather that when you say you slept together, you are not referencing any type of restful unconsciousness?” Dr. Rosa asks, a lilt of teasing in her tone. Only when she jokes does her island accent start to slip back in, a hint of the Caribbean lacing her tongue. 

“Y-Yes I mean. I mean, n-no, I… yes. We, ah-”

“You had sexual intercourse with Daniel.”

“That… that s-s-sounds… so fucking clinical. It wasn’t l-like that.” Careful, and slow - probably the longest amount of foreplay he’d ever done, with constant check-ins and the edge of Danny’s nervousness twining in and around every motion and movement. But Danny had been the one to pull the condom from the side table, and Danny had been the one to hand him the little bottle, and Danny had been the one to say Please, I think I can tonight, I want to. 

Was that taking advantage? Was he taking advantage of how Bram had broken Danny for him? Is that all last night was? It had felt like more, it had felt… so right. 

“I know it wasn’t, Nate, but I am a professional and I don’t usually allow myself the use of, shall we say, colloquial phrasing with my patients. You know…” Dr. Rosa taps her fingers lightly on her notebook and then sits back, smiling. “If you don’t have anything else to do in the next hour, my 11 o’clock canceled and I’d be happy to stay with you and keep discussing this, since we ran so close to the end of our hour before it came up.”

Nate rubs his hand over his eyes. “I d-d-don’t even know if I want to, it just… I just feel like… it s-seems like… I w-worry.”

“Mmmn. What do you worry about?”

“I’m w-w-worried… I’m worried that he’s t-trying to heal faster th-than he really should… for m-me. And that I… t-took advantage of him.”

Dr. Rosa nods, her expression calm and compassionate but a touch solemn. “We’ve hit on this topic before, Nate - your feeling of guilt and responsibility for Daniel and your concern that he is fitting into a mold that your captor made for him rather than his own natural recovery and inclinations. That his role was meant as a kind of companion for you-”

“I mean, that w-w-was one thing,” Nate mutters, without looking up or lowering his hand from his eyes. “

“Was he consenting?”

“I… y-yes, of course.” Danny’s eyes, wide and clear, focused on his. Oh, fuck, please, Nate-… please, n-now, please, in… in me, please-

D-Don’t beg, please, D-Danny, you never have to beg for m-me…

Can I? If, if I want to?

“Was this consent informed and enthusiastic?”

Nate blinks, finally looking back up at her. She smiles at him, relaxing and serene. “Uh… y-yes. Yes. I… I think so, yes. I mean. As s-sure as I can b-be of it… h-he wasn’t… he wasn’t s-s-subtle…”

“What transpired to make you think you were taking advantage of him?” She doesn’t sound judgemental, more… curious. Still compassionate. He’s been coming to see her for most of a year, now, and she probably knows him better than anyone else alive but Danny.

“N-Nothing, I just… how do I know? He… seemed like-… I mean he sounded like he was having… a good time, I just-… How do I kn-know if it’s about me, or if he’s… just r-r-repeating patterns? Doing what I want h-him to do? If he’s doing this because he st-st-still thinks he b-belongs to me, like he did when w-we first came back from C-Canada?”

“Have you asked him?”

“I… don’t w-want to ruin the night for him, if he d-did… but… No. The answer is no. I haven’t asked h-him yet.”

“Perhaps you should try.”

***

Danny has been sitting in the waiting room tapping one foot, slouched in the hard-backed waiting room chair with his legs kicked out in front of him, beat-up old Converse and ancient blue jeans he’d found in a box in his closet, for twenty minutes maybe. The jeans don’t fit anymore unless he belts all the way to the final hole in the belt, but he’s done just that today.

His shoes, his pants, and one of his old band shirts. He feels like himself, as long as he doesn’t look at his scars. He’s brought Dracula with him, dog-eared already and with all the lines he likes best underlined in red ink. He’s rereading the part where Jonathan Harker climbs the castle wall all by himself, thinking about what a brave motherfucker it takes to do something like that, when the receptionist grins at him and tells him Dr. Rosa is ready.

Ryan, sitting next to him, nudges him with one elbow. “Go get ‘em, tiger. I want to flirt with the receptionist.”

“Of course you do.” Danny’s grinning even as he says it. He slaps the book closed, jumps up out of his seat, and heads down the hall with the shy smile already growing on his face. 

“Hello, Mr. Michaelson.” Dr. Rosa greets him at the door and sweeps her arm out. They start every session exactly the same way, comfortable, a routine Danny can trust. “Are we having a Danny day or a Red day?”

“Danny day, one hundred percent,” Danny says brightly, grinning as he drops onto the couch cushion with only the slightest hint of hesitation, only a moment’s glance at the floor where you belong but he didn’t belong there, absolutely not at all. Not after last Wednesday. 

“Wonderful.” Dr. Rosa smiles widely, then - she is as happy for his Danny days as he is. “So, last week we spent quite some time working through some concerns you had-”

“I have something else I want to talk about,” Danny says, pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged on the couch. “Can I, can I talk about something else?” His face begins to burn, a little, and he sees Dr. Rosa note his flush with a twinkle in her eye and an expression of genuine amusement. 

“Absolutely, Danny. You set the pace, in this room. If you need to perhaps have a change of topic, I know that last week went into some difficult spaces for you-”

“No, last week… helped. Last week was good. But, it’s not that-… I want to-… Um.” Danny grins at her, nearly hiding behind his own hands like a child playing hide-and-seek. “I’m going to just say it.”

Dr. Rosa sits calmly in her armchair and opens up her notebook. She seems to be trying, and failing, to hide a smile. “All right then.”

“Um, ah… Nate and I, um, slept together last week.”

Dr. Rosa sits slowly back, but she doesn’t look as surprised as he had expected her to. “We’ve discussed before that you and Mr. Vandrum have been sexually active since three months after your return-”

“Not… not, ugh, I hate that phrase, but… I mean we… we had actual sex. Well, I mean, it’s all sex, I guess. Uh. But I meant the kind I couldn’t… um.” Danny groans. “Please tell me I don’t have to, um, explain the… the logistics of gay guys having-”

“I am a lesbian, Daniel, not ignorant,” Dr. Rosa says with quiet affection, and Danny rewards her with a laugh - bright and sparkling, it’s a hint of the way he used to be. A drop in the nervous hunch of his shoulders. He flashes a wide smile at her, finally dropping his hands.

“Okay, f-fair… fair, um, fair enough. So, so we… so last Wednesday I was… ready. I think our talk on Tuesday really helped me, you know? We, when we talked a little bit about the stuff Abraham would say, afterward, about me, about my, um, my body, I just… I don’t know. It felt… less true, when I left, than it used to feel. And Wednesday night I was, I was brushing my teeth and I thought, um… I thought… I can have sex with Nate and he can’t stop me anymore. And that thought… it felt… it felt really good, Dr. Rosa.”

“You felt fully in control of your choices when it came to your sexual expression,” Dr. Rosa said softly, but she was still smiling. 

“Um… yeah, I just. Yeah.” Danny looks down at his hands, at the scarring tracing up his arms to disappear finally under his T-shirt sleeves. “I don’t… I don’t feel like my body belongs to me, very much. Because it was always his. He used to make me say it, over and over… and last Wednesday, I came out of the bathroom and got into bed with Nate and I just… I just felt like… like my body was mine. One hundred percent totally mine. And I could make my body do whatever I wanted.”

Dr. Rosa nods, waiting. 

There’s a pause before Danny speaks again, smiling shyly down at the floor. “What my body wanted was, um, to… to do that. With him.”

“Have you told him that?” Dr. Rosa asks, quietly, jotting something down on her notebook. Danny can’t quite see what it is, from here.

He frowns. “I… I guess I sort of thought, when I said I wanted to…”

“Communication is an important part of rebuilding relationships after long-term trauma, especially one that so deeply impacted your ability to communicate without feeling constrained and restricted in the first place.” Dr. Rosa was speaking carefully. “I often suggest reliance on a rule of communicating profusely with your partner during a time of rediscovery.”

Danny’s silent for a moment, taking that in, gnawing on his lower lip in thought. He rubs absently at the scar along his jaw, and Dr. Rosa’s eyes move there, but after a moment he drops his hands back into his lap. “So you… think I should tell him, about all the thoughts I had? In the bathroom, before we… um… did that?”

“I am not telling you what to do,” Dr. Rosa reassures him. “Only suggesting that more communication, in instances like this, may be better than leaving anything to inferences and implications.”

Danny nods quickly. “Okay, okay, okay. Um.” He sits slowly back against the couch. Then he grins at her, his face red but his eyes sparkling and bright. “What if I say we did, um, again on Saturday?” He pauses. “And then Monday? I mean, it was him… to me. I c-can’t, still can’t… you know. The other way.”

“Full recovery takes time. I would say I’m very glad that you feel safe, Danny,” Dr. Rosa says, with a soft, warm laugh. “That’s important. And I am delighted that you are taking ownership and agency over your body.”

Danny tilts his head. “Are… are you proud of me?” He asks, shyly. “For, for being able to… to want something, and ask for it, and then just… just, um-… just do what I want?”

She smiles at him, again, and writes another line in the notebook. “Daniel, you’re not here because you want me to be proud of you. That is not the purpose of therapy.”

“No, I know, but I just… I guess… I’m kind of proud of myself? So I wondered if… you know. I should be. I know it’s not… it’s not something to be proud of, normally, but I just…”

She considers, tapping her pen on the page, and then sighs, shaking her head with affectionate good humor. “What matters, Danny, is that you have taken pride in yourself. In something you’ve done. What matters is that you are in a place where you feel proud of yourself.”

He sits back, staring at her, thinking. Then, slowly, Daniel Michaelson’s smile brightens until it nearly fills the room.

“You’re right,” He says, sounding wonder-struck. “You’re right. I’m proud of myself. I wanted something, and I asked for it, and I got it and I had fun. I wasn’t scared. It was my body and it did what I wanted. And… and I’m proud of myself for it.”

“Good.” Dr. Rosa turns to pick up the mug of tea that is steeping on the table next to her armchair, sipping lightly. “Good. Danny, you have every right to take pride in this. I know it was embarrassing to tell me, but I want you to do something for me. Call it therapy homework.”

“Sure. What should I do? Another worksheet?”

“No. I want you to go home, from this appointment-… I assume your brother drove you today?” Danny nods. “Okay. When you go home, today, I want you to sit Nate down, and practice the open communication that we’ve been working on for the past months or so. I want you to tell him what you told me. Assuming you’re comfortable with that.”

“… that we had sex?” Danny blushes. “Uh. He knows.”

“No, Danny.” Dr. Rosa laughs again. “No. I want you to tell him that your body did what you wanted, and that you feel accomplished, in this. That you feel proud.”

She leans over to meet Danny’s eyes. 

“I want you to tell him that it was your body and it did what you wanted.”

“My name is Daniel Michaelson,” Danny murmurs. “And my body belongs to me.”

Dr. Rosa sits back, smiling. 

“Precisely.”