#like it changed everything and I'm supposed to pretend nothing happened?

[goldfades]

HAUNTED BY YOU──FATHER MAYHEW (part 2)

part one!!!!

─ summary | father charlie grapples with his intense attraction during the church event. they shared a passionate kiss that reignites their forbidden connection, despite the undeniable chemistry, charlie wrestles with guilt and the reality of their situation, ultimately pulling away as the risk of being caught looms over them. the tension between desire and moral obligation leaves them both longing for more, even if they face the consequences of their actions

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut! mdni! oral (f!receiving), p in v, pretty rough but not as nasty as part one, praise (?), pretty soft/vanilla in comparison to part 1

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! (please do btw i'm obsessed w nicholas LMAO). also i feel like there should be a part 3 but i'm not sure where it would go sooo

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

After your encounter with Father Charlie, your world had turned completely upside down.

You no longer wanted to attend seminary, not like you wanted to begin with. It had always been someone else’s dream for you, a path laid out by your parents, by the expectations of the community, by the life you thought you were supposed to live. But now, every time you stepped into the church, all you could think about was him. The way his hands had felt on your skin, the way he had murmured your name with a mixture of reverence and desire. It was as if the weight of everything you had ever known had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you standing on uncertain ground.

It wasn’t just the guilt, though that was there, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. It was the confusion—the way you felt torn between the life you had always been told you should want and the inexplicable pull that had drawn you to him that night. You hadn’t planned for it to happen, hadn’t even fully understood what was happening as it unfolded, but now there was no denying it: something had changed inside of you.

You would be lying if you said that you weren't teasing the poor man, but you never expected it to go that far. His mean words, his rough touch... it was unexpected but welcome.

However, you avoided Charlie in the days that followed. But that didn’t stop the memories from replaying in your mind, unbidden and relentless. The rough sound of his voice, the way his breath had hitched when he looked at you, the feel of his lips against your skin—it haunted you, drawing you back to that night over and over again.

And yet, for all the confusion and turmoil, there was something else, too. A part of you that felt more alive than you ever had before. You couldn’t ignore the thrill of it, the way your heart raced when you thought about him, the way your body responded to even the thought of being near him again.

But what did that mean for your future? Could you go on pretending to follow a path that no longer felt like your own? Could you return to the person you had been before all of this?

You didn’t know.

All you knew was that something had been set in motion, something that couldn’t be undone. And as much as you tried to push it aside, to tell yourself it was just a fleeting moment of weakness, the truth lingered, heavy and undeniable: your encounter with Father Charlie had changed everything.

──

"I've just been worried about her." Your mother sniffled as she glanced up at Father Charlie. Her eyes were watery as your father nodded along, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Charlie did his best not to roll his eyes─he assured them that their daughter missing a few days of Church was nothing to worry about, she was simply exploring and that she'd come back if her heart was in the right place.

He wasn't sure if that was true though, he knew the true reason for your sudden absence—it wasn't that you were losing your faith. It was that you were avoiding him. And in a way, he couldn't blame you. After what had happened between the two of you, things could never be the same.

Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling the weight of your parents' anxious gazes on him. He offered them a reassuring smile, the same gentle, composed expression he had worn so many times before. But beneath the surface, a storm raged inside him.

"I appreciate your concern," he said softly, clasping his hands together. "But give her time. Sometimes a little distance can be healthy. She’ll find her way back, if it’s meant to be."

Your mother dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her worry evident. "But Father, she's never missed church like this before. She's always been so devoted. I just… I don’t understand what’s changed."

Charlie swallowed, the words catching in his throat as he forced himself to maintain his calm demeanor. He could feel guilt clawing at the edges of his composure, the weight of the secret the two of you now shared hanging over him like a heavy cloud. He had tried to rationalize it, tried to convince himself that it was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment that would pass. But the truth was, every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

"I understand your concern," Charlie continued, his voice softer now, more reflective. "But maybe she just needs some space to reflect on things. Sometimes, when we're too close to something, we can't see it clearly."

Your father sighed, rubbing his temples. "She's been so distant lately. I just don’t know what’s going on in her head anymore."

Charlie nodded sympathetically, though inside, he felt the sting of his own hypocrisy. He had been the one to create that distance. He had crossed a line he never should have, and now both of you were suffering the consequences. The temptation had been too great, the connection too deep to ignore, and now he was left trying to navigate the fallout, unsure of how to reconcile his role as a spiritual leader with the undeniable pull he felt toward you.

"Just give her some time," Charlie said again, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—your parents, or himself. "She’s strong. She’ll come around."

Your mother smiled weakly, though her worry remained evident. "I hope so, Father. I really do."

As they stood to leave, Charlie felt a familiar sense of dread settle in his chest. He bid them goodbye, offering them one last reassurance before they stepped out of the church. But as the door closed behind them, the air in the sanctuary seemed to grow heavier.

Charlie exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as the silence pressed in around him. He had tried to distance himself from you, convinced himself that what had happened was a mistake. But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the memory of you lingered, seeping into every corner of his mind.

And now, standing alone in the empty church, he found himself wondering if there was any way to make things right again—if there was any way to undo the damage that had been done.

But deep down, he knew the answer.

There was no going back. Not for either of you.

Later that night, Charlie found himself thinking about you once again. Particularly, how you looked that night. On your knees, so eager to please and your doe eyes gazing up at him. He couldn't get that sight out of his mind, no matter how hard he prayed. He clasped his hands together, leaning over the edge of his bed, his head bowed as if in prayer.

But the words weren’t coming—no matter how hard he tried to focus, the familiar rhythm of his nightly prayers refused to take shape. His mind was somewhere else, tangled up in thoughts that shouldn’t be there, lingering on images that made him feel as though he were coming apart at the seams.

He cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as if that would somehow banish the memory. But the more he fought it, the more vivid it became—your wide, innocent eyes gazing up at him, filled with a mix of longing and devotion that made his chest tighten. The feel of your skin, soft and warm beneath his fingertips, the sound of your voice, so eager to please… it haunted him. The way you had knelt before him, lips parted in anticipation, had driven him to the edge of his restraint.

He should have stopped it. He should have turned away, sent you home, reminded you of your faith, of his vows. But he hadn’t. Instead, he had given in, swept up in the heat of the moment, in the way your body responded to his touch, in the softness of your breath against his skin. And now, no matter how much he tried to pray, no matter how often he begged for forgiveness, the memory of that night refused to leave him.

Charlie’s breath came shallow as he stood, pacing the small room in frustration. His fists clenched at his sides, the fabric of his robes suddenly feeling too tight, too constricting. He could feel the familiar ache building in his chest, spreading lower, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, the pull was too strong to resist.

He glanced toward the small crucifix hanging on the wall, a wave of guilt washing over him. He was a man of God—he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to let his thoughts linger on sinful desires, especially not desires for you.

But the truth was, no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your name echoed in his mind, and the memory of your touch seemed to burn hotter with every passing moment.

But when he closed his eyes again, all he could see was you—on your knees, so willing, so eager. The memory of your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and the guilt that followed only fueled the fire inside him.

And he knew, in that moment—the worst part wasn't the fact that he did those sinful actions—it was that he wasn't sorry, not one bit. Not even a sliver of remorse.

A chill ran through him at the thought, his stomach twisting with a blend of shame and something else, something that made him feel even more unsettled. It wasn’t regret that filled him when he remembered that night—it was a strange, unwelcome satisfaction. A hunger that hadn’t been sated, not entirely.

He had broken his vows, crossed a line he swore he never would. But now, in the stillness of the night, with only his thoughts to keep him company, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the truth. He wasn’t sorry. Not for the way you had looked at him, not for the way his body had responded to yours, and certainly not for the way his hands had roamed over your skin, desperate to claim you as his.

The worst part, the part that filled him with guilt and dread, was that he would do it again. Given the chance, he would fall just as easily. There was no penitence in his heart, only desire. And that terrified him more than anything else.

He had spent years dedicating himself to his faith, to his congregation, to being a beacon of moral strength and guidance. But now, the very foundation of everything he believed in was crumbling beneath him. How could he stand in front of his parish, look your parents in the eye, and preach about virtue when he knew what lay inside his own heart? How could he ask for forgiveness when, deep down, he wasn’t ready to give up the sinful thoughts that had taken root in his mind?

Charlie stood abruptly, crossing the room to the small mirror hanging on the wall. He stared at his reflection, searching his own eyes for the man he once was. But all he saw was the shadow of someone who had allowed himself to be consumed by temptation. He touched the collar around his neck, feeling its weight like a noose tightening with each passing second.

The worst part wasn’t the act itself—it was the knowledge that he would do it again. He would welcome it, crave it. You had awoken something in him, something dark and uncontrollable, and no amount of prayer or penance could change that now.

A soft knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. For a moment, his heart leapt into his throat, fearing that it might be you. That somehow, you had sensed his weakness, his need, and had come to him again. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he crossed the room and opened the door.

It wasn’t you. It was another member of the congregation, a kindly older woman who often helped with the church's charitable efforts. She smiled at him warmly, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him.

"Father Charlie," she said, her voice gentle. "I wanted to thank you for your sermon earlier. It was so uplifting. We’re blessed to have you."

Charlie forced a smile, nodding as he thanked her for her kind words. But as she turned to leave, he felt a hollowness settle in his chest.

He didn’t feel like a blessing. He felt like a man on the edge of a precipice, teetering dangerously close to a fall he might never recover from.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be saved.

──

Father Charlie stood at the pulpit, his voice steady as he delivered the sermon to the congregation. The stained glass windows bathed the church in a soft, multicolored light, the hum of his words blending with the occasional creak of wooden pews. His hands gripped the edges of the podium, knuckles pale, though his calm expression gave nothing away.

"And though we may walk through the valley of shadows," he said, his voice resonating through the high ceilings, "we must remember that God’s light will guide us, if only we choose to follow it."

His eyes swept over the familiar faces before him—devout, attentive, hanging on his every word. For a brief moment, he felt the usual sense of peace that came with leading his flock, of being their shepherd through life’s trials. But then, in the midst of that calm, the heavy oak doors at the back of the church creaked open.

You stepped inside, late.

Charlie’s heart faltered.

You moved quietly down the aisle, slipping into a pew near the back, trying to draw as little attention as possible. But he noticed you. Of course he noticed you. His breath hitched in his chest, and for a moment, the words on his tongue stumbled.

You didn’t look at him right away, your eyes scanning the prayer book in front of you as you settled in, but he could feel the electricity of your presence, like a whisper of something forbidden trailing through the air. His mouth went dry as he remembered, vividly and all too easily, the feel of your skin under his hands, the heat between you, the way your lips had parted in that fleeting moment of sinful indulgence.

His mind, usually sharp and disciplined during sermons, began to unravel, his thoughts wandering to places they never should have. His gaze lingered on you as you sat there, your expression neutral, but there was something in the way you held yourself that made it impossible for him to tear his eyes away. He noticed the way your hair caught the light, the soft curve of your neck as you bowed your head slightly. His pulse quickened against his will.

Charlie cleared his throat, trying to refocus on the words he had prepared, but they felt distant now, hollow in his mouth. He was no longer preaching to his congregation; he was struggling to hold onto his composure, his resolve crumbling with each passing second.

"Temptation," he began again, though his voice was softer now, as if the word itself held a deeper, more personal meaning. "It is something we all must face. It whispers to us when we are weak, it pulls at us when we are vulnerable. But we must find the strength to turn away, to resist the allure of sin."

His eyes found you again, and this time, you looked up. Your gaze met his, and in that single glance, he felt everything crash into him at once. The air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with the weight of what had passed between you. His breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to tear his gaze away before anyone could notice the tension that hummed just beneath the surface.

But you didn’t stop looking at him. He could feel your eyes on him, a silent challenge, a reminder of the line that had already been crossed. He fought to keep his voice steady, but the sermon felt like it was slipping away from him, the careful words he had crafted now little more than a veil over the chaos inside his mind.

"We must… stand firm in our faith," he continued, though the conviction had drained from his voice. "For in times of darkness, it is only through faith that we find salvation."

Salvation. The word felt bitter on his tongue. Could he even claim to believe it anymore, after everything that had happened? After what he had allowed to happen?

The sermon dragged on, each word a labor, each moment a battle to maintain control. And all the while, you sat there, your presence like a burning flame in the cold of the church, drawing him in, tempting him with a kind of heat he knew he could never touch again.

When he finally reached the end of his sermon, the relief was almost palpable. He offered the closing prayer, his voice quiet, barely able to focus on the familiar verses. As the congregation murmured their amens and began to file out of the pews, Charlie stayed rooted at the pulpit, his eyes lingering on the spot where you sat.

But you didn’t leave with the others. You stayed behind, waiting until the church was nearly empty, until the last whispers of conversation faded away into the stillness. And then, slowly, you stood and made your way toward him, your footsteps soft against the stone floor.

Charlie’s heart pounded in his chest, the air between you charged with unspoken tension as you approached. The church was quiet now, the last of the congregation having departed, leaving only the echo of their footsteps behind. The light filtering through the stained glass seemed softer, casting shadows that flickered across the empty pews. But there was nothing soft about the way his pulse thundered in his ears, about the tightening in his chest as you closed the distance between you.

He should have walked away. He should have left immediately, before anything more could be said, before the unspoken words between you could turn into something neither of you could take back. But instead, he stood there, frozen in place, rooted to the spot by the weight of your gaze.

“Father Charlie,” you said softly, your voice low and sweet, like a secret meant only for him. The sound of your voice sent a shiver through him, and he fought to keep his expression neutral, though he could feel the cracks in his composure growing deeper with every passing second.

“Yes?” His voice came out rougher than he intended, strained.

You took a step closer, and the scent of your perfume reached him—something soft, floral, intoxicating. “Your sermon…” you began, but the words trailed off as your eyes met his again, and in that moment, he could see the truth in them. The same hunger that gnawed at him was reflected in your gaze, the same forbidden desire simmering just beneath the surface.

He swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He couldn’t allow this to happen. Not again. Not here, in the house of God, where his entire purpose was to be a guide for the people, to resist temptation, to be the moral compass for those who sought him out. But standing this close to you, feeling the warmth of your body, seeing the way your lips parted slightly as you looked at him—it was as though the air itself was charged with electricity, pulling him in.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you continued, your voice softer now, almost a whisper. “About temptation… about resisting it.”

His throat tightened. He knew where this was going, knew he needed to stop it before it went any further. “You should,” he managed to say, though his voice was strained. “We all must resist.”

Your eyes flickered with something—amusement, perhaps, or maybe defiance. “Is that what you’re doing right now, Father?” you asked, stepping even closer, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Not like this.”

“And yet,” you replied, your voice teasing, “here I am.”

He clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t give in to the desire that gnawed at him, no matter how strong the pull. But as you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm, the warmth of your touch sent a jolt through him that made it nearly impossible to think clearly.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it, too.”

He closed his eyes, struggling to find his breath. Of course, he had been thinking about it. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else since that night, no matter how much he tried to push it away. But acknowledging that would only make it worse, would only open the door to something darker, something he wasn’t sure he could come back from.

“I can’t…” he started, but the words stuck in his throat.

You stepped even closer, your body now just inches from his, and he could feel the heat radiating from you, could smell the faint sweetness of your perfume. “You don’t have to resist,” you whispered, your lips so close to his ear now that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin.

Charlie’s hands trembled at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest. He was standing on the edge of a precipice, knowing that one more step would send him over, would plunge him into something he couldn’t take back. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours, and in that moment, he knew.

The worst part wasn’t the temptation. The worst part was that he didn’t want to resist anymore.

"Sweetheart?"

You both immediately jumped, putting some space between you two. You looked back to see your mother standing, looking between you two with suspicion. Charlie’s heart nearly stopped in his chest as your mother’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. His breath hitched, and he took a hurried step back from you, creating what little distance he could in the small space between you both. The panic coursing through his veins was almost palpable, his mind scrambling for an excuse, an explanation—anything to justify the intimate moment your mother had just interrupted.

You spun around, your cheeks flushed, eyes wide as you faced her. “Mom…” you started, your voice shaky, barely able to form the words.

Your mother stood just a few feet away, her eyes narrowing as they flicked between you and Father Charlie. Suspicion danced across her face, her arms crossing over her chest in a way that made it clear she didn’t believe for a second that what she had just walked in on was innocent.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice tight with concern, but laced with an edge of disbelief. “Why are you here alone with Father Charlie?”

Charlie swallowed hard, doing his best to regain some semblance of composure. He stepped forward, trying to project the calm and collected demeanor he was known for.

His hands fidgeted behind his back, where no one could see the way they trembled. “Mrs. L/N,” he said, forcing a small smile, “I was just… offering some spiritual guidance. Your daughter has been struggling with her faith lately, and I wanted to make sure she was alright.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. She glanced at you again, her suspicion deepening. “Spiritual guidance?” she repeated slowly, her tone skeptical. “That’s all?”

You nodded quickly, your face burning with embarrassment, desperate to put her at ease. “Yes, Mom. That’s all. I’ve just… I’ve had a lot on my mind, and Father Charlie was helping me work through some things.”

Your mother didn’t look satisfied, but she didn’t push any further either. Instead, she sighed, her eyes softening just a little as she looked at you. “Sweetheart, I’ve been worried about you. You’ve been distant lately, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m your mother—I know when something’s not right.”

Charlie took a deep breath, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the dangerous ground it had been treading. “You have every right to be concerned,” he said gently. “But I assure you, your daughter is fine. She’s just been searching for some clarity, and sometimes, that means taking a step back to reflect. It’s a normal part of spiritual growth.”

Your mother seemed to hesitate for a moment, her eyes lingering on him as if weighing his words. Finally, she nodded, though the unease still lingered in her expression. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But… next time, sweetheart, maybe talk to me too. I’m always here for you.”

You smiled weakly, giving a small nod. “I will, Mom.”

Your mother’s gaze softened further, and she gave you a gentle smile before turning back toward the door. “Me and dad are waiting outside,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t take too long.”

As soon as she was gone, the tension in the air shifted, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence. Charlie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his shoulders sagging with the weight of what had almost just happened.

“That was too close,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned back to him.

Charlie nodded, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts still racing. “We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly, though even as he said it, part of him knew it was a lie.

You stood there, staring at him, your breath unsteady as the reality of what had just happened sunk in. Your mother had almost caught you, and the danger of the situation wasn’t lost on either of you. And yet, there was still that undeniable pull, the heat between you two simmering just beneath the surface, refusing to die down despite the risk.

Charlie’s words hung in the air, a weak protest against what both of you knew was inevitable. He had said it before—he couldn’t keep doing this—but neither of you had stopped, even after that night. Even after everything that had followed.

You took a small step closer to him, your heart pounding as you fought against the voice in your head that told you to walk away. “You don’t mean that,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes, his jaw tight, clearly trying to hold on to whatever shred of self-control he had left. “I should mean it,” he muttered, his voice strained, but he didn’t move away from you. If anything, he seemed to lean in closer, despite his own protest. “This is wrong. We both know that.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles as he wrestled with himself. “Maybe it is,” you admitted, your eyes meeting his again, “but that doesn’t mean I regret it. Do you?”

Charlie looked at you, the conflict plain in his eyes, but the more he stared, the more that tension seemed to fade. “I don’t regret it,” he finally admitted, his voice low and hoarse. “But I should.”

You shook your head slowly, stepping even closer to him, the space between you almost non-existent now. “Then why don’t you?”

Charlie’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering over your face as if searching for an answer. The heat between you two was almost unbearable now, every inch of space crackling with tension, and you could see the exact moment his resolve began to crack.

He exhaled sharply, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through you. You moved closer, your hand sliding down his arm, feeling the way his skin shivered beneath your touch. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered back, your lips dangerously close to his now.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, standing there in the quiet, the tension and the desire between you growing stronger with every passing second. Charlie’s breath quickened, his eyes dark with longing as he stared at you.

But then, just as quickly, his expression shifted, a look of torment crossing his features. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” he whispered, his voice trembling with both desire and guilt. “You deserve better than this.”

You swallowed hard, your heart clenching at his words. But you shook your head, refusing to let him pull away now. “What I deserve,” you said softly, “is you. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Charlie’s eyes flashed with something—a mix of longing and torment—and for a moment, he looked like he might resist again. But then, something inside him snapped. He reached out, his hands grabbing your waist, pulling you closer in one swift motion.

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips crashed into yours, and for a second, all of that guilt, that tension, melted away in the heat of the kiss. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you against him as if afraid you might slip away. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the church, not your parents waiting outside, not the fact that what you were doing was forbidden.

All that mattered was the way his lips felt against yours, the way his touch set your skin on fire, the way everything else seemed to fade into the background when you were with him.

The kiss deepened, an electric jolt shooting through you as Father Charlie held you close. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your heart race faster than you thought possible. You felt the heat of his body against yours, his grip possessive yet gentle, like he was trying to hold on but afraid he might break you. It was a contradiction, just like him—full of restraint, but also full of passion.

You let out a soft gasp as his hand slid up your side, brushing against your ribs, and the sensation made your knees weak. You had to remind yourself that this was real, that this was actually happening again, despite all the reasons it shouldn’t. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it any more than he could.

Charlie broke the kiss first, his breath ragged, his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes were squeezed shut as if he were fighting an internal battle—one that he was quickly losing. “This can’t happen again,” he whispered, though the way his hands still held you told a different story. His resolve was crumbling, just like it always did around you.

You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, but you couldn’t bring yourself to agree out loud. The tension between you two was still thick, and the temptation was too strong, too intoxicating to resist.

You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, mirroring your own, and it was enough to make you lean in again, brushing your lips against his one more time.

“Then stop,” you whispered against his lips, daring him, challenging him to push you away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he kissed you again, harder this time, as if the very act of pulling you closer was the only thing grounding him. His hands gripped your waist tighter, fingers digging into your hips, and you could feel the desperation in his touch. There was no hesitation now, no pretending that this wasn’t what he wanted.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his clerical shirt, the smooth fabric bunched under your fingers. It was almost surreal, the way everything else disappeared around you, the church silent except for the sound of your breathing and the faint echo of your heartbeats.

But then, reality began creeping back in, like a shadow over the two of you.

The weight of what you were doing came crashing down again, as it always did, leaving you both tangled in a mess of desire and guilt. Charlie broke away once more, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort to steady himself. His eyes were wild with conflict as he looked at you, his voice hoarse. “We can’t… Not here. Not like this.”

You could feel the hesitation returning, his conscience pulling at him once again. But before he could say anything more, you pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“I know,” you whispered, nodding. “But don’t regret this, Charlie. Please.”

His gaze softened for a moment, and for just a second, it seemed like the weight of his guilt was lifting, replaced by something softer, something more real. He gently took your hand in his, pulling it away from his lips, and brought it to his chest, holding it there as if to let you feel the way his heart raced beneath your fingertips.

“I don’t,” he said quietly, his voice firm despite the uncertainty lingering in his eyes.

But before either of you could speak again, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the small room. You both tensed immediately, pulling apart in a rush as if the entire world had just come crashing back down on you.

Your mother’s voice rang out, calling your name from somewhere outside, and the reality of your situation hit like a cold shock to your system. You glanced at Charlie, your pulse still racing, your thoughts a jumbled mess.

You sighed, stepping back, your heart still pounding as you adjusted your clothes, trying to make yourself presentable before stepping out of the room.

As you left the small space where everything had happened, Charlie watched you go, his chest tightening with the weight of his own choices. He knew there would be consequences to all of this—there always were. But as he watched you disappear into the hallway, a small part of him couldn’t help but want more.

And that terrified him most of all.

──

Father Charlie’s lips crashed against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into the small, dimly lit room at the side of the church. The door clicked shut behind you, the quiet sound echoing through the silence as though sealing you both away from the world outside.

Your back hit the wall gently, the cool stone pressing against you, but all you could focus on was the heat radiating from him—the way his body seemed to burn with a need that matched your own. His kiss was desperate, almost frantic, as though he had been holding back for too long and could no longer control the desire that had been eating away at him.

“God, I’ve tried,” he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a moment, as though trying to regain some semblance of control.

But even as he said it, his hands roamed over your body, fingers trembling slightly as they traced the curve of your hips. “I’ve tried to stay away… but I can’t.”

His confession sent a shiver through you, both of guilt and desire. You knew this was wrong—both of you did—but the pull between you was too strong to resist. There was something magnetic in the way you fit together, something undeniable in the way his touch made your pulse race.

You gasped softly as his hands slid higher, brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending jolts of electricity through your skin.

“Charlie…” you breathed, barely able to find the words as your heart pounded in your chest. His name left your lips like a prayer, one filled with both need and hesitation.

His response was a low growl of frustration, his hands tightening on your waist as if trying to ground himself, but his lips returned to yours with renewed urgency. The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier, more reckless, as though the two of you had crossed a threshold you could no longer retreat from. His fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, pulling you even closer to him, your bodies pressed together in a way that left no room for anything but the heat of your desire.

“We can’t…” he whispered again, though the words seemed hollow now, an afterthought that barely registered in the heat of the moment. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against it, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. “But I don’t want to stop.”

His words mirrored the conflict that raged inside of you—this was a line that should never have been crossed, but now that you were here, it felt impossible to turn back. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, your body arching into his as his hands explored your skin. The soft rasp of his breath against your neck, the heat of his body pressed so close to yours—it was overwhelming, intoxicating, and it left you dizzy with need.

For a brief moment, he pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared at you with dark, conflicted eyes. “We’re going to hell for this,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire, but there was no regret in his tone—only raw, unrestrained longing.

You shook your head, your fingers still gripping his shirt as you looked up at him, breathless. “Then take me with you.”

That was all it took for him to lose whatever remained of his restraint. With a groan, he captured your lips again, his hands moving faster now, more urgently, as though afraid that if he stopped for even a moment, the weight of what you were doing might crush him. You didn’t care anymore, not about the consequences, not about what anyone might say. In that moment, there was only him, only the way he made you feel—alive, reckless, consumed.

His hands slipped beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your waist as though claiming you entirely. The cold stone wall at your back contrasted sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours, grounding you even as everything around you spun out of control.

There was no space between you now, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, each touch, each kiss driving you further into the dark, forbidden territory you both had sworn to avoid. But neither of you had the strength to resist anymore. His breath was ragged against your neck, your own heart pounding in time with his as the intensity of the moment wrapped around you like a vice.

"Gonna make you cum so many times," he mumbled into your neck as he pushed you harder on the wall.

You let out a small giggle at his words, your head falling back against the wall with a small thud. "Is that a promise?"

Charlie hummed against your neck. "Mhm, you won't be able to walk outta here."

You tangled your fingers into his hair as he spoke, pulling him closer, urging him on. You needed this as much as he did. Needed to feel alive, to feel something that burned beyond the lines of right and wrong. It wasn't just lust—it was a dangerous craving for connection, something that both frightened and exhilarated you.

"Please," you pleaded, breath hitching as his hands roamed higher. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the struggle within him, but his resolve broke the moment you gave him permission.

With a low groan, his hands slid beneath your shirt completely, the sensation of his touch sending fire through your veins. Every nerve in your body was alight, the tension between you mounting to an unbearable high as his lips claimed every inch of skin they could reach. His breath was hot against your neck, the pressure of his body overwhelming, yet intoxicating.

Charlie’s mouth found your ear, his breath warm and labored. “I don’t know how to be anything else around you... it’s like you’re inside my head.”

You gasped as he pressed himself harder against you, your lips brushing the curve of his jawline in response. His words cut through you, filled with the same struggle and longing that burned in your chest. It was reckless, dangerous even, but it was real.

Without warning, his arms around your middle and picked you up. You let out a surprised sound as you wrapped his hips, before he dropped you right on the desk. The sensation of being completely in his control, suspended in the air for a fleeting moment, sent a thrill through you.

Before you could even process what was happening, he dropped you onto the desk behind you. The cool wood pressed against the back of your thighs as your hands flew to grip the edge, steadying yourself. The roughness of the gesture, the way his eyes burned into yours, left you breathless.

There was no hesitation in his movements anymore, no room for doubt or second thoughts. The desk creaked slightly beneath the weight of the moment, but neither of you cared.

Charlie stepped between your legs, his hands immediately finding your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he was anchoring himself to you. His gaze roamed over your face, dark and full of hunger, before his lips crashed back onto yours with renewed intensity. His kiss was deeper now, more demanding, as though he was trying to erase every single barrier between you.

"Charlie," you moaned as you blinked up at him, your whole body feeling like it was on fire.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more of him, craving the feeling of his body against yours. His hands slid up your sides, trailing heat in their wake as they pushed your shirt higher, exposing more skin to the cool air. You shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way his touch set your nerves on fire.

“God, I’ve wanted this,” he growled against your lips, his voice low and filled with raw need. He leaned forward, his body pressing yours back against the desk, the weight of him intoxicating. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he held nothing back now, his control slipping with every passing second.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers exploring the firmness of his body beneath the fabric of his clothes. Every muscle tensed beneath your touch, responding to you in ways that made your pulse race even faster. You pushed his shirt up, wanting to feel the heat of his skin against yours, to close the distance between you even more.

His lips left yours for a moment, trailing down your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, feeling the way his teeth grazed your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips with almost bruising force.

You could feel him hard against you, his desire unmistakable. The tension between you, the build-up of everything unsaid, was too much to bear anymore. You arched against him, needing more, wanting to lose yourself in the overwhelming heat between you both.

He then spread your legs further before practically ripping your skirt off, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He leaned down to press a sloppy kiss on your stomach before he slowly descended down where you needed him most.

Charlie placed two fingers on top of your clothed wet pussy, letting out a broken groan. "So ready for me, huh?"

All you could do was moan in response as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut. The feeling of his fingers so close to where you ached, made you wanna scream in desperation. You just wanted him to fill you up and fuck you senseless.

“Charlie…” you breathed, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you felt in that moment. His name on your lips only seemed to spur him on, his fingers pushing deeper into your needy cunt.

Finally, he moved your panties to the side before slowly dipping a finger inside your sloppy pussy. Your back arched to his touch, letting out a pornographic moan.

Charlie shivered at the beautiful sound, his pants becoming impossibly tight. He felt his cock get harder every second, he wasn't sure how long he could wait—but he needed to taste you.

Keeping his finger inside your wet pussy, he leaned down and pressed his lips against it. With the added sensation, you were sure you were gonna pass out. Charlie slipped out his tongue, tasting your sweet juices as he hummed.

"Taste so fucking sweet, baby." He moaned as he opened his mouth to taste more of you. The taste was heavenly, he shut his eyes and began devouring you, his finger slipping in and out.

You were practically sobbing with pleasure at that point, your hand on his head as he ate you out like a starved man. Your pussy clenched around his finger, but you needed more. You needed his cock, desperately. He began rubbing himself against the wooden desk, desperate for any friction as he continued his assault on your puffy cunt.

You felt that familiar tightening in your lower stomach begin to form and you knew that it wouldn't take a lot more to make you cum. You began breathing heavily, your head falling back as you nodded desperately.

"Please, please make me cum," you babbled as you fisted his hair. "Oh, fuck!"

One last push of his finger and you were cumming around him, and Charlie wasted no time—he kept licking your juices until he felt he was completely satisfied. You were breathless from your high, but Charlie was far from done.

As you regained some sense of consciousness, you heard his belt buckle hit the wooden floor with a familiar thump. Then, Charlie’s lips crashed back onto yours with renewed urgency, fueled by your whispered permission. You could taste yourself on his tongue, humming at the salty taste.

His hands roamed over your body, no longer holding back, exploring every inch of exposed skin. You could feel the heat between you intensifying, the air growing thick with anticipation.

His free hand gripped your waist, pulling your body flush against his, and you could feel just how much he wanted you. The desk beneath you creaked again, but the noise was drowned out by the sound of your ragged breathing, the thud of your heartbeat in your ears, and the steady rhythm of his movements against you.

Charlie’s mouth continued to explore your neck, leaving kisses that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, dark and full of something primal. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he muttered, his voice husky, sending a thrill through you.

Your lips parted, words forming on the tip of your tongue, but they were lost as he lifted you slightly, shifting you further onto the desk. The sudden movement made you cling to him, your legs tightening around his waist, the closeness between you now unbearable in the best way.

Charlie then reached for his cock, you glanced down to see his redden tip leaking with pre-cum. He led his tip to your entrance, and he slowly began pushing himself into your warmth. Charlie let out a sigh of relief as his head fell back; he had missed the feeling of your tight cunt.

You were still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you were shaking at the burning and overwhelming sensation. "Please, Charlie," you didn't know what you were pleading for at this point.

Charlie let you adjust to his size before he began drilling in and out of you, the wooden desk creaking underneath you. You felt so full, you swore you felt him all the way up to your throat. Your hands found his broad shoulders, holding on as his thrusts began more erratic and desperate.

"This fuckin' pussy was made for me," he gasped as he began fucking you into the desk, the power of his thrusts making you cry out. "God made this pussy all for me, like a little present."

All his ramblings were going in one ear and out the other, you were absolutely drunk on his cock. You just moaned in response, unsure of what he was even saying at this point—Charlie wasn't sure either.

Charlie was snapping his hips against yours, he wasn't even thinking straight; he felt like a fucking dog in heat. All he could think of was cumming inside of your tight pussy again and again, until either of you could take it anymore.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out as you felt yourself drawing closer and closer to your orgasm. Your pussy tightened around him, your eyes rolling back in pure and unadulterated pleasure.

You came again, your whole body shaking as you felt your legs give out. You were practically limp as Charlie kept slamming into you, chasing his own high.

After a few more rough snaps of his hips, Charlie was spilling his seed into you. He rode out his high as he sighed heavily, his forehead falling against yours. You were both breathless, but nonetheless satisfied. His breath was warm against your skin as he rested his forehead against yours, the remnants of shared intensity still lingering in the air.

Both of you were quiet for a few moments, still trying to catch your breath, hearts beating in sync. The room, once filled with hurried movements and ragged breaths, had now fallen into a peaceful stillness.

Charlie’s hand slowly trailed down your back, a soft, gentle touch replacing the urgency from earlier. His fingers danced over your skin, and despite the exhaustion that hung between you, there was a tenderness in the way he touched you now, as if he was savoring every second of this quiet moment.

His eyes, still dark with satisfaction, locked with yours, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You’re incredible," he murmured softly, his voice hoarse from everything that had passed between you.

You smiled back, your fingers brushing through his hair, still trying to make sense of the rush of emotions coursing through you. "Finally made me cum," you teased lightly, though your voice was soft and tired.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body a welcome comfort against yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything, just reveling in the intimacy of the aftermath, the unspoken connection that had deepened between you.

After a while, Charlie sighed again, this time more contented. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips soft and reassuring. “We should probably…get out of here before someone finds us,” he whispered, though there was no rush in his voice.

You laughed softly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You were still perched on the edge of the desk, clothes haphazardly discarded, with no sign of the wild passion that had just transpired except for the disheveled state of the room and the lingering heat between you.

But for a moment longer, neither of you moved. There was something comforting in the stillness, the quiet intimacy that followed the storm. Eventually, though, Charlie slipped out of you, shifting slightly and helped you down from the desk with a gentle hand on your waist. You both began to gather your clothes, the silence between you now comfortable.

With one last lingering kiss, you both finally slipped out of the room, the world outside waiting. But something had shifted between you—something that felt like the beginning of something more.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[nemesis-writer]

[Unwanted Ransom (Chapter 1)]

What was I made for?

TW: Mentions of Death, PTSD, ED, SH, Neglect

Masterlist

🎵Thumbs- Sabrina Carpenter🎵 🎵What was I made for?- Billie Ellish🎵

On my first day of staying here, I was excited to see if I had brothers.

Dick the oldest, supposed to be there for me, and pose as a role model right? WRONG, he instead leaves me on read when I text him. The fucker has enough guts to ignore me, and when he notices me, it's when I either get in trouble at school, or when his teamates talk to me. He had time to look after Bludhaven.

Tim, one of the family's detectives, doesn't find me interesting, and thinks of himself too big to talk to a lowlife like me. AND WE LIVE IN THE SAME FUCKING HOUSE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. With him, I have little to no memories. All he does is twiddle his thumbs, pretending I wasn't there.

Cass, Steph, Barb. I never really cared bout' them, all they do is talk shit about others, and play daddy's little girl. I was never daddy's little girl and I never complained. Not much to really talk about with them, I even learned ASL just for some light communication.

Jason, alright, I'mma be honest here. He was the closest thing I had to a brother, but he only came to the house at night for some food and rest. The best memory with him, was him taking me to school on the first day, I joined grade 5 class because I have an IQ of 190. Everything was great until he died, a part of me died with him.

Damian, the "golden apple" of this whole shit hole. This bitch thinks that he can do anything, because he is the bastard of Bruce Wayne, and Talia Al Ghul. He gets to train with Dick, while I watch them train to become a "hero". He bullied me even when I was a year older than him. Ughh, what a bitch. He was the reason I got the name Jinx, I was the bad luck of the family

Bruce, the man had the guts to adopt me and change my true name to a wayne. I was named Xerxes because it meant warrior, my dad never thought I was one. I'm not even allowed to call him dad.

Alfred, oh sweet innocent Alfred. I considered him as my father when my mother's "sperm donor", couldn't be there for me. He was there to teach me how to bake and cook, the best part was that he never admonished me for my bad behavior at school.

For 4 years I had lived with them, every night I had prayed for a miracle to happen. At night the same dream, every morning, the same nightmare. After the first 5 months of my stay, I started to avoid eating, because of depression.

And before I go to bed I looked for any blade I could, and locked myself in my bedrooom. I cut myself below the wrist, while keeping a first aid nearby. I never felt any pain from the wounds, but I felt the scar in my heart.

It's ironic how a whore with nothing, could love a child more, than a family that has everything. I always laughed at the idea, I never allowed myself to cry or show weakness. Bruce never knew how to deal with emotions anyway, so why cry?

I never cried, when Damian slashed my arm with a knife. Not when Barbara told me to go to hell, not when Tim destroyed the birthday present I made for him. And especially when Bruce called me a mistake. I only cried when Jason was murdered by the Joker.

I always thought crying was useless, so I worked hard. I got straight A's, I made friends, I enlisted for multiple sports when I turned 10. I even took up art just for the sake of fitting in.

But I will always be the Wayne pushed from the spotlight. Not even then, could I cry.

I just went to my dilapidated bedroom, God, it was ornamented with all of my awards and certificates. I started to pack my stuff, I even took the photo of me and my mother. There wasn't much to pack, all I got were hand me downs, and the dregs of my "beloved siblings."

At night, it was the perfect time to escape, with the villains on the loose, they had to take night shifts. So I slowly climbed out of my window and placed the note I had prepared for Alfred. And I prepared to go to the abyss that awaits me...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N Hiii... I got this idea from reading @acid-ixx, and @luludeluluramblings... I'm making a seperate part for the note Jennifer gave Alfred. HOPE U LUV THIS <333

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 5

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, smoking cigars, violence, angst

series masterlist │my masterlist

your relationship with logan is strained, breaking apart at the seams.

ever since your conversation the dynamic has shifted. you don’t want to lose logan, and so in the light of day you kiss and cuddle and he watches you complete your chores. he makes dry comments as you cook together and you talk and laugh over dinner. he carries you into the bedroom and kisses the insides of your thighs until you’re begging for him, clutching at his hair as he eats you out.

but in the dark, when night falls, so does the facade of your relationship. he still sleeps in the guest room, but you no longer go join him when he has nightmares. if he wants to pretend like everything is fine and doesn’t want to talk to you, you won’t pressure him to do so. you’re following his lead, and it’s making you both obviously miserable.

he hardly ever actually sleeps, and you know that - sometimes you still wake up to his screams of pain and horror. he spends most of his nights drinking, sitting outside on the porch with a bottle or two. you often find him there in the mornings, watching the sunrise, face pale and eyes lined with thick, dark bags.

he asks you to buy him cigars when you go into town and you do. he smokes them on the porch while you bring him coffee, grabbing the empty bottles of liquor to throw out. he mutters a “thanks” but says nothing else, and you return to the kitchen to eat your own breakfast alone, without him.

it always takes a few hours before he can shake off the lingering tensions and horrors that follow him at night, before he can really be a version of himself again.

he’s angry too, all the time. that feral, violent edge to logan that you’d noticed through his animal behaviours seems heightened now. his claws come out more, becoming a familiar sight. he never takes it out on you, he’ll walk away before he ever gets close to doing that, but he becomes destructive in his anger.

he punches the walls, claws piercing through the drywall along with his fist. but he always fixes it after, and he seems less tense when he’s using his hands like that. to fix and patch-up rather than destroy.

he takes to fixing things around the house, changing the shower head so it has better water pressure, repairing the old hinges on the doors to the cupboards that always creak. he builds you a new bookshelf as an apology - or at least you think it is, though he never says the words outright - after getting shitfaced and yelling at you one night.

and yet you feel so distant from him. there’s a painful ache in your chest every time you see his handsome face, a longing to touch him and kiss him and crawl into his skin. the physical proximity does nothing to alleviate your loneliness. you miss him, so much.

he’s laying under the kitchen sink, shirt off and tossed on the floor beside him, and you take a moment to admire him, the thin sheen of sweat covering his chest, the dark hair that you want to bury your face into.

you shake your head, snapping yourself out of your daze and proceed outside. you have things to do, and there’s no use getting distracted by logan when you know it won’t amount to any changes, won’t make this thing between you better.

honestly, you’re counting down the days until he tells you he wants to leave, find his own place, start his own life. or restart, you suppose. you expect it to happen any day now, when he runs out of things to fix around your house and can no longer keep himself busy and distracted.

and then one night he returns home drunk. he’d gone out without telling you, skipping dinner together to go to some bar or another. you ate alone, hardly picking at your plate, appetite gone. 

you’ve never seen him like this and you wonder how much he must have drunk to get to this point, slurring his words and stumbling, a heavy weight that you struggle to hold onto, keeping him upright so he won’t collapse into nearby furniture. he has a half empty bottle in hand and you gently pry it out of his grip, placing it down on the nearest surface you can find, just to get it away from him.

he’s muttering words you can’t quite understand, talking to himself more than he’s talking to you, but it’s more words than you’ve heard him say in a while. you blink back the tears that threaten to rise on your waterline as he holds you against him, close your eyes to focus on the scent of him that surrounds you, the sharp tangy smell of alcohol lingering on him, cutting through his usual musk, cigar smoke and wood and him.

“i’m gonna put you to bed,” you say gently, because as angry as you are with him right now, as much as you’re trying to put distance between you, he’s still logan, and your heart beats for him regardless.

you lead him to the guest room, but he shakes his head and wrenches his hand out of your hold, stumbling towards the door to your room, to what was once yours and logans before he’d started fading away. breathless, you follow him, watching him collapse onto your bed, face buried in your pillow. he lets out a deep groan, wiggling around in your spot until he’s comfortable.

you’ve missed the sight of him in your room, missed falling asleep to his face and waking up in the warmth of his arms, the sound of his steady breathing surrounding you with a sense of peace, his hands tracing your face as if you were a work of art. you don’t even notice you’re crying until you feel warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

“don’t cry - hate when you cry,” logan slurs as he reaches out his arms towards you, beckoning you to come closer to him.

it makes you cry harder, and within moments he’s holding you. you’re straddling him, legs bent against the comforter at an odd angle but you don’t care. he presses his hot mouth to the top of your head, a barely-there brush of his lips that has you warming up from within.

“shh,” he tries to shush you, rocking the two of you back and forth in a horribly uncoordinated rhythm, “don’t cry. i love you.”

it’s the first time he’s said those three words to you, and you wish you could have heard them under any other circumstance. not when he’s drunk out of his mind, not when you’re barely holding yourself together, not after weeks of hardly speaking. it’s not the right time - hell, it’s probably the worst moment he could have picked.

“don’t say that,” you tell him, voice raw, “if you don’t want me to cry, please don’t say that.”

“but-” he protests, “do you love me?”

it’s bittersweet, this moment you’re sharing. you can’t remember the last time he’s been so honest with you, so forthright with his feelings, and yet you can’t be certain he’ll even remember this conversation in the morning. you can’t be certain this will change anything at all.

you sigh, and hope that logan’s mutation doesn’t involve him remembering everything that happens even when he’s shitfaced drunk. you don’t want your first admission of love to be a sad one, but he’s looking at you with the biggest puppy-dog eyes, your logan, and you can’t leave him hanging, can’t just not answer. and you can’t lie either, he’d be able to smell it in your scent, to read it in the way your heartbeat quickens.

“yes, logan, i do.” you whisper, pressing a hand against his cheek, the scruff of his beard.

“why are you mad at me?” he slurs, and you scoff.

“because you’re pretending everything’s fine and you’re pushing me away,” you reply, “you don’t talk to me anymore, and i can’t read you like i used to. you barely show any emotions, you just close everything away. i’m mad because yes, logan, i love you, and that means i want to know what’s going on with you.”

“but ‘s better now,” logan protests.

you frown. he sounds so sure of himself, and you wonder how he could possibly see the state of your current relationship and think of it as better. maybe you were right, maybe this is all ending.

“how?” you whisper, “how are things in any way better?”

he buries his face in your neck, warm breath forming condensation on your skin. when he speaks you can feel the words more than you hear them, muffled as they are. “i was an animal before. a monster with no control. ‘s better that i act human.”

you laugh but it’s unhappy, “it’s not better at all. i want the real you, whoever that is, more human or animal, i don’t care. but i want the version of you that spends time with me instead of a bottle, the version of you where we can talk through our issues. because i get that things are different logan, i hear your nightmares and i don’t expect you to be the same now that you remember all those awful things. you’re traumatised, i understand that. but i wish you could try to open up, let me love you. don’t push me away. and i want you to love me in the ways that are natural to you, that make you the happiest, whatever that means.”

you wake up to an empty bed, the spot beside you still warm but steadily growing colder. you blink open your eyes, blearily, making out the dent in the mattress where logan had slept, the smell of cinnamon and sugar invading your senses with each new breath you took.

you find logan in the kitchen, wearing one of your little aprons, far too small for him, the strings barely long enough to meet at the back. the sight makes you giggle, silly and domestic as it is. he’s pulling fresh cinnamon buns out of the oven, and you fight the urge to look around as if someone is about to pop out at you. 

“want one?” logan asks. in your daze you hardly noticed him turning around to face you. “they’re uh- an apology. i used your recipe and i’m good at following the instructions so they should be okay.”

he refuses to meet your eyes, shifting on his feet, restless energy thrumming through him like he’s expecting to have to run away at any moment. before, you would have said that he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to run and hide when things get hard, always fight and never flight. it seems right for him, with his gruff demeanour and the violent edge to him. but you’ve lived through him avoiding you, running from his problems. you refuse to let it happen again.

he’s skittish, nervous even, and you take a moment to appreciate the sight. it’s lovely, gorgeous even, compared to the anger and depression and irritation that you’ve gotten accustomed to from him. but you don’t let him linger in silence for too long.

“an apology?” you repeat his words, placing your chin in your hands, “for what?”

“pushing you away.”

so he remembers. you wonder if he recalls every word you spoke to him under the cover of darkness, made brave by the thought that he likely wouldn’t remember, that none of this would come back to you in any way, or if it’s more of a vague image that floats around in his mind, edges blurred and sections of the night skipping through.

does he remember the way you told him you loved him, the words tinged with sadness and desperation? you weren’t expecting the sudden change of heart, the way he so easily said the very thing he’s been avoiding admitting for so long.

“you don’t have to apologise for that,” you say, though you appreciate it, “you were going through something. you still are.”

“i still need to apologise,” he argues, and you smile at the determination in his voice, “it’s- fuck- i’m not good with words. i messed up. i know that. but i’m almost two hundred years old, you know that? and i remember every single, shitty day of it. i haven’t had a good life, princess. i hurt and kill everyone that gets close to me. and i don’t wanna hurt you.”

you stride right up to him and he looks terrified when you raise your arms, but all you do is wrap them around his neck, standing on your tip-toes so you can press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his scratchy beard against your lips. his hands find a place on either side of your waist, the position so natural, so comfortable.

this is how you’re meant to be, in each other’s arms, not fighting or hiding away from one another.

“you did hurt me,” you say, watching the way his jaw tenses at the reminder, “but i’m tougher than i look. and i don’t believe that your past defines you. who you are right now, how you treat me, that’s what decides my opinion of you. although right now you’ve got some grovelling to do.”

he grunts in agreement, “i’ll make it up to you, darlin’. however you want.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[sparklingblu]

Pulse

Sohyun X Xinyu

P.S: I'm trying a new style of writing here.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

There's something calm and comforting about the crowded coffeeshop. The hissing of the espresso machine, the bustle of human conversation, the clinking of ceramic cups - they all seem to blend together to create a new yet totally familiar world. That's the reason I've come here. To be swallowed by this background noise and extract myself from reality if just for a moment.

I sit in my usual corner, my elbow against a cup of cappucino which has long since gone cold and a textbook opened but largely ignored. I have read the same line for the last thirty minutes but none of it seems to stick. I'm too distracted by the noise and my own thoughts, adrift in this place.

University is supposed to be a place where you "find yourself" but I seem to have lost my sense of direction as soon as I step my foot here. Everyone around me seems so sure of what they are doing, raised chests and energetic steps. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to keep my head down, pretending like I belong while I don't even know who I am yet.

Outside, the leaves are just starting to turn yellow - the afternoon light casting a lazy red glow on them. It's the start of a new season though I barely feel like anything have changed in this new life I'm settling into. It's just a struggle to fit in from day to day.

I bring my lips to the rim of my cofee cup, grmiacing as the bitter taste washes over me. It doesn't come as a surprise. The only reason people come here is for the atmosphere - to mingle and jingle . The cofee is just a necessity to stay.

I glance at the moving world from my seat near the window. A steady flow of students rush past the platfrom on the otherside, their laughter echoing through the glass. It's as if they know a secret I have yet to understand.

I pull the sleeve of my sweater over my knuckles, retreating into the soft fabric. Nearby, my phone buzzes with a notification from a group chat that I never have been a part of. I don't bother to check and it becomes one of the many sounds that fills the place.

I used to think university would be different - a total contrast to my mundane high school life. That I'd step into the place and everything will click into place. Like the rest of my life have been a prelude to this. But here I am. Already chickening out in the first week.

I chug down the remainder of my cold coffee, shove my books into the bag and was about to leave when a burst of cool air sweeps through the place, followed by the jingle of the bell above the door. And I happen to be one of those people who instictively gawk at the newcomer.

There she is, waltzing into the room like she owns it. The energy of the outside world seems to radiate from her body. There's nothing loud or brash about her but she draws attention anyway - an easy confidence that ripples through the place. She brushes a stray strand of hair our of her face, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

She stands out naturally,moving as if she's utterly home in her skin, in this place. It's the kind of self-insurance that seems totally foregin to me. I can't even imagine what it's like to be in her shoes. Not like I will have a chance. She's everything I'm not.

Her hair is slightly tousel, falling in loose waves that looks almost intentional. She's wearing a plain white shirt, its crispiness a total contrast to her slouch jeans.

She orders a cofee - espresso, no sugar- and while she waits, she cracks a joke at the waiteress, painting her cheeks red. All this time, my eyes linger on her with a strange sort of fascination, watching like she's the only form of enteratinment I have had in a long time. And it's true in a way.

She takes the plastic cup and the change from the waiteress with a smile. She turns and that's when the trouble starts. I have expected her to leave as swiftly as she has come. Someone like her probably have more important businesses than slothing around.

Her eyes dart around the café and it takes me a moment to realize she's looking for a seat. So she's staying. But luck doesn't seem to be on her side today beacaue every single seat has been occupied. Well, except..

"Hey" she says, and it's casual, like we have been friends forever. "Mind if I sit there?"

She's gesturing at the seat across from mine, which I have strategically left empty to create a distance between me and everything else. I hesistate a tad bit too long before I response.

"Sure" I mumble, nodding towards the chair.

She sits, sliding the cup of coffee on the table with a soft thud. I have expected her to pull out a phone or do anything a stranger sharing a table with another stranger would do. But instead, she leans back and scans the room before her eyes come to rest on me.

"I have seen you before" she speaks, offering a slight smile as if she can read my thoughts.

I blink, caught off-guard. No 'hello' s. No 'hi' s. Straight to the point.

"Have you?" I say, sounding awfully stiff.

"Yeah. You have been in the same corner for the last week. You come here a lot?" She sips her coffee, eyes still on me.

I shrug. "Not always. But yeah. It's quiet"

She raised an eyebrow, glancing around the packed café. "Quiet?" she repeats, half laughing. "Compared to the dining hall, perhaps"

Just then, I realize how rudiculous I must sound. "Well, not today" I admit, lowering my gaze back to the books. "But usually"

She laughs again, but not mockingly so. "I get where you are coming from. Sometimes, it's good to be alone even though you are not truly alone" She couldn't have worded it better.

"Exactly" I say, nodding slowly.

A brief silent passes between us. She sips from her cup again. If the cappucino here is strong, I can't imagine what espresso would taste like. But she shows no sign of distaste.

"So, what do you study?" she asks, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

"Literature" I answer, shifting in my seat. For some reason, talking about my major always make me feel like I'm giving something away. Like I'm exposing myself.

"Ahhh Literature" She repeats the word, as if she's trying to decipher its meaning. "That must be....intense. Lots of complicated story about lots of different stuffs"

I nod, still unsure where she's headed. "I guess so. It's more about trying to understand them through their words. Deep fry your brain sometimes"

She huffs. "I can imagine. That's why I try to understand them through their heads, it's less exhausting that way. I'm in psych"

That makes sense. She has this way of speaking, as if she knows what the other party will say before they even open their mouths. But at the same time, respecting their boundaries.

I'm still trying to think of a valid response when she lifts her cup and stare at the remaining coffee like she's studying it. Then her gaze lifts back to me, eyes bright.

"You know, espresso reminds me of people"

I blink, surprised at the strange comparison. "Espresso? Why?"

She beams, leaning in. "Espresso's small right? Concentrated. If you take a sip, there's this rush - sharp and intense. It hits you so intensely that if you are not prepared, it can be overwhelming"

She takes a sip, as if giving me time to register her words. "But if you take it in bit by bit, the taste changes. The bitterness mellows out and you can feel each layer of richness underneath"

I stare at her, my tired brain struggling to understand what she's implying. Why espresso, out of all things?

She leans back and continues. "People are like that. Emotions, life, they come at you in the most unexpected times - swift, chaotic. Sometimes it can be too much to handle. But if you give it some times, let it breathe, you start to see the little parts that makes it up. That's when you start to discover yourself"

I can't help but smile. "You have thought a lot about this, haven't you?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just obsessed with espresso"

"Not the one here, I hope"

She smiles, instantly getting what I'm implying. It seems she's a regular customer too. "You gotta work with what you have. But you get the point"

"So....people are like espresso? Is that why you study them?" I question as she finishes up the last few drops of her coffee. This girl really likes espresso.

"Exactly" she snaps. I'm not sure if she's joking here. "It has always been my dream to do a thesis on espresso and emotions"

"Are you....?" I drift off and she bursts into laughter.

I feel the slightest hint of joy, like by asking that stupid question, I have contributed to her amusement in some way.

"Serious? No way. I'm not risking my degree for my unhealthy addiction. The last person I explained this to leave the table as soon as I'm done"

"Well, I'm still here"

Does it sound too cheesy?

"I can see that" She glances at the clock on the wall, frowning slightly. "I should get going. I have a class to prepared for"

I nod, feeling that familiar twist that comes with endings. "Right. Of course"

She stands, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "It was nice talking to you" she says, her voice warm. "You can call me Sohyun"

"Xinyu" I reply. It sounds so much easier to say my name now.

"Xinyu" She lets the word roll off her tongue. "I like it"

"Thanks" She's already walking to the door when I response.

With one last glance, she re-enters the reality outside of this comforting bubble. I feel a strange sense of anticipation, like the conversation I just had have dropped some hint to solve this puzzle called life.

Sohyun and Espresso and People.

How peculiar.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The walk back across the campus was pleasant. The scene that welcomes me when I enter my room is not.

As I enter, I'm greeted by the familiar chaos of Yooyeon's world - clothes draped over the chair, a half eaten bag of snacks spilling out on the desk and music playing softly in the background. The mess have become such an essential part of the space that without it, you doubt you will recognize the room.

Yooyeon looks up from her bed, where she's lounging with her phone. She's dressed causual with a twist as usual - an oversized grey t-shrit with the words "You Shall Not Pass" emblazoned across the front and swetpants of the same color. As soon as she notices me, an infectious grin spreads across her face

"Xinyu! You are back!" She exclaims, eyes bright. "Did you finally make a friend or are you still on a first name basis with the library?"

"Ha ha. Very funny" I retort sarcastically as I shove my bag on the bed. "But yeah. I guess so"

She immediately sits up, her attention solely on me. "Wait, what? For real?"

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. That's the thing about Yooyeon. It's like she has her own respirator of dopamine. Always on her feet. Not a hint of worry in those blue eyes.

"Her name's Sohyun. We met at the café" I answer, keeping my tone casual. One wrong octave and Yooyeon would immediately detect it.

"Ooooh, a café conversation, huh? Sounds like the opening to a great novel" She laughs, flopping back down to her bed. "What did you two talk about?"

I shrug, though I have anticipated the question. "Just espresso and....people"

Yooyeon grins even wider. "Don't tell me you spill your heart out. Cuz that would be really really-"

"It's nothing like that" I quickly interrupt. "It was just small talk. She's really easy to talk to"

"Easy is good. You need easy" Yooyeon bounces off her bed and start rummaging through her cupboard box of numerous books and posters. It has been a week and she still hasn't bothered to arrange her stuffs.

Not a moment sooner, she pulls out two bright blue mugs. "We should celebrate your burgeoning social life. I have got hot chocolate mix somewhere"

I roll my eyes. "You are impossible"

"Impossibly fun" Yooyeon winks as she pours the hot chocolate mix into the mugs and adds some hot water, the steam curling up. "You are on your way to becoming a social butterfly. Next thing you know, you will be hosting literary salons"

"Sure. After I finish this semester's readings" I reply lightly though the idea terrifies me.

Yooyeon hands me the steaming mug with a triumphant grin. "Here's to new friends and the magic of coffee! If you ever need a social coach to take you on this emotional espresso journey, I'm always available"

I take the mug from her, the warmth of it seeping into my palms. "No thanks"

"Aww come on. I can be the Ron to your Harry. Or the Peeta to your Katniss. Wait, nevermind. That's not a good idea" Yooyeon says, never failing to showcase her obsession with fiction. If Sohyun wants to do a thesis on espresso, Yooyeon would probably make one on Hunger Games. But her dream is closer to being a reality, given how she's in media studies.

"Isn't that the guy....who got like brainwashed or something?" I try to recall the memoies of the movie from time immemorial.

"Yeah. Poor Peeta..." Yooyeon says with a dreamy tone before she brings the mug to her lips.

"Fuck! It's hot" She yelps, immediately recoiling and almost spilling the hot drink.

"Who? Peeta?" I ask.

"No. The hot chocolate. Wait, no. I mean yes. Peeta, not this god awful drink" Yooyeon says while she furiously fans her mouth.

I can't help the chuckle that escape my lips. "I have always liked that Gale guy better"

Yooyeon's eyesbrow knit at my remark. And I already know a debate is headed my way.

"For starters,..."

And so it begins. I participate anyway although I know Yooyeon would win in the end as she always does. I'm not geeky enough for this.

But it doesn't matter. Because she's the only friend I have for now. Debating on fictional man not to be the odd one out doesn't seem so bad of a trade.

Would Sohyun like Gale better than Peeta?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

I'm up early the next morning. The kind of early that makes the world feels like it's still deciding whether or not it should go back to sleep. I look at the bedside clock - 5:55 am. Ha. I beat the alarm today.

Soft gray light shines through a hatch between the curtains, the world outside still enshrouded in the morning mist. All is quiet except for the occasional footsteps and soft snores of Yooyeon , whose face is half buried in the pillow. I smile, knowing she won't be up for at least an hour. The girl's have been up all night finishing an assignment.

I shiver slightly as the cool air grazes my skin when I pull the covers off. The mornings are getting colder, the first hints of autumn sneaking in. And it means I will have a harder time exiting the warm embrace of my sheets.

The chill in the air clings to me as I head towards the common bathroom. The hallways are empty at this time of the day. Not much early risers here. This building, Bradford Hall, is one of the older dorms on the campus. The floors creak with each step I take and the white paint on the wall have faded with age. For no reason, the place indulges a sense of legacy in me. Like I'm a part of something greater. Maybe it's the smell of chamomile that always hangs in the air.

The walk to the bathroom doesn't take long since my room's on the first floor. There's no burden of stairways. It takes five minutes tops for me to clean up - brush my teeth, wash my face and a couple arrangement of my messy hair that will stay the same way after. I still don't understand how some people manage to spend hours in the bathroom. Making yourself presentable shouldn't be that hard.

When I come back to the room, Yooyeon has tossed over, almost draping off the bed and murmuring something that sounds like a spell. She might be visiting middle-earth, Hogwarts and god knows where.

I cross over to my side of the room, the territory determined by an imaginary line Yooyeon have drawn on the first day. The room is barely big enough for two twin beds, a couple desks and a shared closet. My space is plain, simple. Almost empty except for the small lamp and the stack of books. It works fine by me.

Yooyeon's, however, is a total contrast. Her walls are covered with posters of whatever fictional book or movie you cam name. Not to mention the figurines that line her desk. "They give me motivation" Yooyeon has said. In my opinion, I wouldn't want an inch tall Darth Vader monitoring me all night. I bet Yooyeon would consider that 'hot' too.

I rummage through my closet without any initial dress code in mind. There isn't a need to worry. People wouldn't be up yet. There's no one to impress. I decide to go simple pulling on a bright blue sweater over my shirt and pulling on a pair of jeans. I slip on my worn-out sneakers, their familiar creaks greeting me. After a glance in the mirror, I decide to let my loose locks fall freely. I grab my bag and leave, careful not to wake Yooyeon, who's on the brink of falling off the bed.

The campus seems almost unrecognizable at this time of the day - the morning light bathing it in a warm glow that makes everything looks like it belongs to a painting. The air is still, undisturbed by the usual hustle of students. I take a deep breath as I make my way down the brick path.

The clues of autumn are scattered here and there - the air crisp and the leaves tinged with green and yellow like they haven't decided their favorite color yet. To my left, the towering main library roses like a cathedral, fog clinging to its ebony walls. The arched windows reflecting the sun rays.

Further down, the old lecture halls rise up on either sides of the path. They look like relics from the ancient past, a time unbeknownst. The ivy covered walls adding into its timelessness.

They weren't joking about this place being 'old'.

Ahead, the dining hall comes into view, no less younger than its confidants. With the dark wood beams and the high ceiling, it looks almost like a castle. The stone steps leading to the entrance are worn smooth by countless steps and the wooden doors, though thoroughly polished, creaks slightly as I push them open.

Inside, the place is most empty, save for a couple students scattered around. The smell of coffee and pastries fill the air, comforting in a way that makes me want to stay for hours. I grab a tray, throws on a couple of sandwiches and a glass of juice. My morning appetite have never been impressive.

I takes my usual place near one of the stained glass windows, spots of light showering on the table. I love this place. It's quiet and peaceful. Maybe except when Yooyeon's accompanying me.

I'm haflway through a cheese sandwich when the door swing opens.

Sohyun.

She walks in with a group of friends, at least five of them, talking and laughing. Their energy seemingly announcing they belong here.

Sohyun's dressed in almost the same way at our first meeting - a loose white shirt and cargos. And she strides across the hall with the same confidence from that day.

I didn't mean to stare but my eyes follow her, weaving through tables with her friends trailed behind. Like maybe our encounter was an interlude to something more.

I know I should go back to my sandwhich but when the soul craves, the body has to suffice. She turns my way just for a split second and without thinking, I give her a small smile. It's nothing special, really - just a 'Hey. I remember you from yesterday' kind of smile.

But Sohyun's eyes sweep over me as if I'm not even there and soon, she's swept up with her friends again, laughing at something they said.

It stings. Though it has no reason to. It's like a tiny blow that leaves you off-balance but not strong enough to knock you off your feet. Before I even realize it, my lips have pursed into a tight line and I'm already staring down at the unfinished plate of sandwiches. Maybe, yesterday was just a fever dream.

I didn't expect much, really. A nod, a wave, a smile - a sign of acknowledgement. Anything. I tell myself not to care. It's rudiculous to yearn for approval from someone you shared a coffee table with. But I can't help the cold weight settling in my chest.

I glance up at her again. She's still at the counter, taking her sweet time choosing her breakfast. The way she holds herself is so natural, like she belongs anywhere she goes. I envy that about her. I have always been needed to prove to earn a place in society while she just waltz through everything without a care.

Why is it bothering me so much?

Maybe I should be grateful for her brief cameo in my life. Or maybe it would have been better if we never met. Then she will just be another student who comes to eat breakfast. Not Sohyun.

But now, it's infecting me.

I take a sip of my orange juice, focusing on the cold liquid that wash down my throat. It's nothing, I tell myself. It's jst a stupid plea for attention. It doesn't matter. I have always been good at finding meanings in small thing but sometimes, small things are just......small. There's no more meaning to them than what they are.

Maybe that's all this is.

I watch her from the corner of my eyes as she settles down at a table with her friends, her laughter ringing out across the hall again. And for a momet, I almost want to laugh. Not because anything is funny but beacause how easily she moves through the world, through life.

And how easily she has forgotten me.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Over the next week, autumn have crept in like a quiet exhale. The trees have turned amber and yellow, their leaves falling in slow spiral onto tbe brick paths. The air has become sharp enough to sting my skin when I go out. It's the season of change, like people say. But this year, there's something unsettling about the sudden shift. Like I'm not ready for new beginnings.

Most of my time is spent surrounded by books and notes. Despite the constant pressure, it's nice to finally have a rhythm to life again. The rhythm that my fear of rejection have indulged. I have recovered quick and Sohyun has faded into nothing but another human whose life happen to cross ways with mine.

It's nothing to dwell on.

I sit at my desk, my table lamp casting a faint glow on the pages of 'Jane Eyre'. The word file opened on my laptop is still in the same state as it has been in the last hour - celan and empty. The syllables for the essay due tonight doesn't seem to be manifesting anytime soon.

I tap my fingers idly on the edge of the desk, glancing at the clock. It's nearly midnight now. The campus has gone still save for the ocassional laughter and footsteps of latecomers from the corridor. Peaceful. Quiet. But still not helping me collect my scattered thoughts.

I'm about to give up for the night and go to bed when the door suddenly flies open with a buest of energy and Yooyeon, in all her chaotic glory, stumbles into the room. She's panting, yet she has this wide grin plastered on her face.

I look up from my desk, startled by the sudden enteance. "Hey"

"Hey" she says, plopping down on the bed. "Guess what?"

I raise an eyebrow, bracing myself for whatever dramatic new she has to deliver. "What?"

"Yeonjun wants me to meet him at one of those fancy clubs. And he asked me to bring a friend" She grins even wider. "Guess who that friend's gonna be"

I blink. "Not me"

Yooyeons gives me a look, the kind that says she's not giving up until I give in. "Yes, you. Come on, Xinyu. You have been locked up here for so long. You need to get out"

"I've been studying" It's not enitirely a lie but it's not the truth either.

But Yooyeon's having none of it. "Studying, hiding, same difference. You are coming with me. Plus, it will be fun. Who know? Maybe you will even find a cute boy" She winks, then whispers. "Or a girl"

I'm not quick enough to surpress the blush that creeps up my cheek. "Yooyeon!"

"What? Don't tell me you still can't forget Ms. Espresso"

"This has nothing to do with her" To my surprise, my voice comes out shrill. "I'm just-"

"Blah blah blah. More excuses" Yooyeon cuts me off. "Come on, Xinyu. You will be doing me a huge favour. Yeonjun thinks I have no friends"

"You do have friends"

"Yeah. But no one would be available this late. And I'd rather go with you. You are....less dramatic"

Despite myself, I can't help but chuckle. "You mean 'naive' "

She shrugs, throwing a pillow at me. "You know what I mean. I don't need to worry about you throwing up or passing out or sleeping with the wrong guy"

"You just wants a wingwoman who will behave"

"Exactly" Yooyeon snaps. "So, what do you say? We'll go meet Yeonjun, hangs out for a bit. Then, we can come back to your books if you want"

I glance at my laptop, ths text cursor blinking in and out of existence as if reminding me of the marks soon to be lost. It's tempting to stay here but Yooyeon's right. Perhaps, I can take a breather just this once.

I sigh, pushing my chair back. "Fine. But don't expect me to drag your drunk ass back here"

Yooyeon lets out a triumphant squeal, practically bouncing off the bed. "Yes! You won't regret it"

She's already heading to the door when I throw a sweater over my shoulder. Yooyeon's dressed in her usual fit - jeans and a Lord of the Rings shirt, the one that says "You shalll not pass".

"Seriously? You are wearing that shirt again?" I ask, eyeing her.

Yooyeon shrinks away in mock offense. "Excuse me? Have some respect for the classics. Everybody loves Gandalf"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Let's go"

As soon as we step out of the building, we are hit by the cool night air. The campus is fast asleep, the street lamps casting long shadows across the brick paths. It feels peaceful, almost serene.

Yooyeon immediately starts chattering about this new Draco-Harry fiction, her hands waving animatedly as she speaks. I listen, half-distracted, my thoughts finding their way back to a topic unexplored for some times - Sohyun.

Maybe that morning in the dinining hall doesn't mean anything. It's jut a moment, and moments pass.

Despite the countless convincements, a part of me still wonders. What if she had smiled back? What if things have happened differently?

"Earth to Xinyu. Helloooooo" Yooyeon's voice break through my thoughts and I realize she has been talking to me this whole time.

"Sorry" I mumble, recomposing myself. "What were you saying?"

"I said, what do you think of Yeonjun?"

"He seems...nice" I answer, though I barely remember the guy.

Yooyeon grins, clearly pleased. "I know, right? He's the sweetest. And he's really into Harry Potter too, so that's a bonus"

I hum in agreement. Yooyeon's world seems so simple - vibrant, full of energy. Meanwhile, mine feels like the polar opposite. I'm always overthinking, second-guessing.

"Hey" Yooyeon nudges me with her elbow. "You are being all broody again. Stop it. We are going to have fun"

"Yeah, okay" I say, offering her a small smile.

I breath in the autumn air, hoping that mayb, I can stop cllinging onto a loose thread.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The club is a short walk off campus, tucked into a narrow street line with food trucks and cafés that come alive at night. As me and Yooyeon approach, the distant music grows louder, the rhythmic bass reverberating beneath our feet.

A small line of people snaked out of the entrance, marked by a neon sign displaying its name "The Tavern". The building itself is unassuming, with dark brick walls and small windows dimly lit from the inside.

When we step in, the place opens into a large space with low lighting. The bar run along one side while the rest of the room is a dance floor, dotted with tables around the edge. The air is buzzing with music and energy - people pressed close together, shouting whatever on their mind over the DJ's beat. It's an enitrely different world from the quiet, orderly campus.

"There he is!" Yooyeon yells over the music, wavibg wildly at someone near the bar. I follow her gaze and find a guy leaning against the counter, already grinning like a madman. Yeonjun. I recognize him from the first (and the only) time Yooyeon introduced me. He seems to reflect Yooyeon's restless vigour - a match made in heaven (or Hogwarts, whatever).

"Yeonjun. You remember Xinyu, right?" she says, taking her place next to him. He offers me a smile, not too over the top, but friendly enough. "The one who's always drowning in books?"

I give him an awkward wave. "Hey"

"Nice to meet you again" He says, his voice smooth. "Yooyeon's always talking about you"

"Only good things, I hope"

He laughs. "All good. Don't worry"

Yooyeon reaches for Yeonjun's half-finished shot of whiskey on the counter but get stopped by a firm grip on her wrist.

"Eh eh eh. You are ordering your own drink, miss"

Yooyeon pouts at Yeonjun's remark. "You don't even want to share a drink with your girlfriend?"

"You see. The reason it's called a 'shot' is that it's meant to be savoured by a single individual" Yeonjun's voice has gone unsettlingly serious.

"And they say Xinyu's the smart one" Yooyeon says, punching his arm.

"And they say men are the agressors" Yeonjun retorts. "How do you even deal with this witch, Xinyu?"

Before I can think of anything to say, Yooyeon grabs his arm. "Before I cast a casual Crucio on your sorry ass, we should get to the dance floor"

Yeonjun didn't argue with that. The banter is just their way of communicating. "Xinyu, you should come too" he invites.

"Uh.....no. I'm good. You two go ahead"

"Are you sure?" Yooyeon asks, despite knowing nothing can budge me. "It wil be fun, I promise"

I shake my head, smiling. "I will pass. I think I will just....get a drink"

Yooyeon is silent for a moment, then she's off, dragging Yeonjun into the sea of bodies. I watch them disappear, Yooyeon's laughter echoing back, carefree and loud, like she's exactly where she belongs.

Me, though? Not so much. So, I head to the bar,sliding onto one of the stools and order a Coke. There's no need for anything stronger. I can barely tolerate anything that have the slightest bit of alcohol and that's speaking from experience. The bartender barely looks at me as he hands it over, already moving on to his next order.

I take a sip and glance around. The place is packed, bodies moving in rhythm, couples tangled up in each other and some loners who are just swaying, lost in the music. It's loud, chaotic and I feel totally out of place. It's not that I don't want to have fun - I just don't know how to in place like this. Maybe my definition of 'fun' is different from everyone here.

I lean back against the bar and take another sip. The girls here are all glitter and glamour - tight dresses, high heels and bold colors, shimmering under the disco light. Like the night is made for them.

And then there's me in my oversized sweater and faded jeans. My white sneakers seems an imposter to their sleek heels. I have been so eager to get out of my comfort zone for once that I forget to do the necessary preparations.

I search for Yooyeon's familiar face in the crowd, but she's lost in the restless horde, probably twirling around with Yeonjun. I'm happy for her but all I feel is...detached. It's pathetic. I know. I'm too old not to know my constant fear of being the outsider, of being denied.

I'm halfway through my coke when I feel someone slide into the seat next to me, the barstool creaking under the weight. I didn't look up, hoping that it's just another stranger who comes to mind their own business. But then, he clears his throat, loud enugh for me not to ignore.

"Hey" a voice rings out, smooth but with a cocky edge.

I glanced over and there he is - perfect hair, gleaming jacket and a gold chain around hid neck. I might not be the best at socializing but I recognize the type immediately - the kind that's used to getting everything he wants. I can see it from his look, like he spends too much time in front of the mirror. He gives me a lazy smile, the one that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Come here often?" He ask, leaning a bit too close. His cologne is strong and mixed with the sour stench of his breath, it's impossible not to flinch

"No" I say flatly, taking a sip of my coke.

"That's a shame. You should. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be sitting alone"

I bristle at that, the compliment feeling more like an insult. "I'm not really into clubs" I reply, my lazy tone desperately showing my lack of interest.

He either doesn't know or care. Instead, he leans closer, his elbow casually resting on the bar next to me. "You just haven't found the right sort of people. I could show you a good time, you know"

I swallow a sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm fine, thanks"

But he only smiles wider, as if my rejection is part of a game he's used to playing. "You sure? Cuz I don't see anyone with you here. How about I buy you another drink? Something better than coke"

"No, really. I'm good" I say, more firmly this time, hoping he will get the message. But the bastard won't take his eyes off me.

"You are playing hard to get, huh?" He tilts his head. "You wouldn't believe how many girls like you I have seen. Acting all tough, only to end up in my bed at the end"

That did the job for me. I straighten up in my seat. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"Oh, come one. I'm just-"

"Fuck off, Taeil"

A voice cuts through the tension and I instinctively turn my head toward the source. Sohyun stands a few feet away, arms folded. Her shirt has been tucked into her dark jeans, casual but sharp. Her eyes narrow onto the guy who is now known as Taeil, as if she's used to seeing the scene plays out.

Taeil straighten up, his smile wavering. "Relax. We are just talking"

"No, you are not" Sohyun steps closer, gaze hard and unblinking. "Here's what's gonna happen. You are going to walk away and leave her alone.

Taeil's smirk returns but it's not so sure as before. "And what exactly are you going to do if I don't?"

Sohyun's lips curve into a smile, one colder than any I have seen from her. She pulls out her phone, holding it up for him to see. "Let's see. I don't think your parents will be so happy to see their son acting like a druggie. Plus, it wouldn't be good for either you or your parents if the video end up in the wrong hands"

All the color drain out if Taeil's face, leaving him gaping. "You are blaffing" He protests, though the panic is clear as day in his voice.

"You know I'm not" Sohyun smiles like a predator who has cornered its prey. "So, fuck off"

For a moment, there's silence, the music filling in the temporary gap. Taeil shifts on his feet, his confidence all gone and finally, he lets out a sharp breath. "Fine. Whatever" His eyes flash with fury. "But this isn't over yet"

Sohyun gives him a mock wave, wriggling her fingers as he strides out of the club.

I exhale, realizing I have been holding my breath. I look over at Sohyun, who's still standing there with her phne. A neutral look has returned to her face. Like the Sohyun just a moment ago was a totally different person.

"You ok?" She asks, sliding her phone back into her pocket.

"I - yeah. Thanks" I reply, still a little stunned.

She shrugs, giving me a small smile, genuine this time. "That guy's a creep"

I nod, processing everything that has happend in the last few minutes. Sohyun, the psychologist. Sohyun, the saviour. What isn't she?

She pulls up the stool next to mine, the one Taeil has occupied just a moment ago and settles in. I shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of her presence, of how close she is. The bar light cast little shadows on her face, illluminating the little details on her face I haven't noticed before. The tiny mole on her nose catches the light first, then the one under her left eye. They are so small, barely there but they stand out now that I'm seeing her up close.

"First time here?" She asks. How she knows, I have no idea. Maybe it's my my clothes that give it away.

"Yeah" I admits, a little sheepishly. "It's not really my kind of place"

Sohyun raises an eyebrow, amused but not surprised. "Yeah, I figured. You don't exactly look like you are having the time of your life"

I let out a small laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

She smirks, her eyes flickering over to my outfit. "Just a little"

I glance down, fidgeting with the edge of my sweater, suddenly even more aware of my appearance. "It's not really.....I don't usually go to places like this"

"So, not a party person?" Sohyun's voice is more curious than judegemental.

"Not really" I admit. "I'm more of a...stay-in and read type"

Her smile grows and for a moment, the chaotic sounds of the club faded as if we are alone. "Well, you are here now. So might as well try to enjoy it"

She's so easygoing, so at ease with herself it makes me want to throw caution to the wind too. But then, I remembered that morning in the dining hall and my stomach twists. The memory is still nagging at the back of my mind. I bite my lower lip, debating whether or not I should bring up the subject.

Sohyun takes a sip from my nearly empty can of coke and before I can stop myself, the words spill out. "I saw you the other morning. At the dining hall"

Her eyebrows knit together in curiousity. "Oh?"

"I smiled at you" I say. "But you didn't see me"

Or act like you don't, I thought.

Her eyes widen for a moment before she speaks."Wait, really? Xinyu, I'm sorry. I didn't see you"

I blink. "You didn't?"

She shakes her head. "I swear. If I'd seen you, I would have smiled back. I promise. I guess I was just in my own head then. I'm sorry"

Her words are soft, delicate and sincere. It unravels the knot in my stomach I have pretended to be non-existent. Still, she could be lying but I decide to trust her,realizing how much I care about what she thinks of me.

I galnce away, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly. "It's okay" I mumble, sipping from the empty can of coke. "I just thought....maybe I'd misread things"

Sohyun gives me a small, warm smile. "You didn't misread anything. I'm sorry if you feel like that"

She's apologizing too much now it's starting to get uncomfortable. So I dismiss it with a nod.

Sohyun shifts in her seat, her eyes flickering down to my sweater, which have bunched up awkwardly from the way I have been sitting. Before I can fix it myself, she reaches over. Her finges gently tug at the hem of my sweater, smoothing it down without a second thought.

"There" she says, her hand lingering a moment longer more before she pulls it back.

I'm still processing the gesture when almost absentmindedly, she reaches out and brush a stray strand of my hair out of my eyes. Her fingertips skim the side of my face and for a moment, time slows down - just enough for me to notice the way her eyes soften.

"There you go" she says, leaning back. "Now you are perfectly suited for the night life"

We both smile at that and for a heartbeat, I swear I can feel something shift between us. Something I can't quite name. Something that might as well be a misinterpreted signal.

The air settles into a quiet lull, the ghost of her fingers still tingling on my skin. The warmth of the moment hangs awkwardly between us and for a moment, all I can do is sit there, actuely aware of the silent between us.

"So..." I clear my throat. "Do you come here alone too?"

The corner of her mouth quriks up like she finds my question amusing. "Alone?" she repeats. "No. Not really. I'm here with my friends most of the time"

I nod. "So, are they here tonight?"

She glances towards the dance floor. "Yeah. They are somewhere out there" she says with a small laugh. "I kinda slipped away for a bit. Needed a break"

A break. From what, though? The noise? The people? The club?

I hesistate for a second. "Not really your scene either?"

She gives me a sideway glance. "It's fun but...sometimes, I don't know. It can geta little old. Same people, same music"

"Yeah" I agree. "I get that"

She taps her fingers against the bar, thoughtful for a moment. "What about you? Do you come here yourself or did Yooyeon drag you here?"

My eyes widen. "You know Yooyeon?"

Sohyun chuckles softly. "We are friends on instagram. She followed me first, I think? She seems fun"

I can't help but laugh at that. "Yeah. She's definitely fun"

Sohyun tilts her head, as if searching for Yooyeon in the crowd. "She told me she's your roommate when I mentioned I see you in one of her stories. She's been hyping you up"

"She -what?" I stare at her, feeling the panic rising in my chest. "Hyping me up?"

Sohyun greans, leaning in just close enough for me to catch a faint scent of her perfume. "Yeah. She says you are a lot cooler than you let on"

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. "That's Yooyeon....being Yooyeon"

"Well, she's not wrong" Sohyun adds, her eyes catching mine for a split second before she goes back to staring at the dance floor.

The silence settles in again, like an early intermission. Sohyun's eyes flicker back to me and I try to ignore the way she's watching me like she's considering something. I sip at the can of Coke that has been emptied long since.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" She asks so casually, like it's something she asks anyone alone in a night like this.

"What?" I ask, unsure if I've heard it right over the loud music.

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "It's too loud. And hot. Let's do something fun"

I hesistate, unknowingly squeezing the coke can flat. "Like what?"

Sohyun gives me a small smile, laced with certainity and mischeif. "Trust me. You will like it"

There's something in her voice that disarms me. Perhaps it's because this night has already been so surreal, with Yooyeon dragging me here, the drinks, the noise and then Taeil's annoying persistence. And now, Sohyun, who had seemingly ignored me is suddenly offering to whisk me away. It feels like too much, and yet, somehow, not enough.

I find myself nodding faster than my brain can catch up. "Okay"

Sohyun stands, sliding a couple bills on the counter before I can protest. She doesn't say anything, just gestures towards the door, and I follow her out of the club.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The air outside is sharp and cold and for once I'm grateful for my out of place sweater. Sohyun, however, doesn't seem to be fazed. If not, she seems to be enjoying it.

The music fades into the distant as we walk in silence, winding through the quieter streets near the campus. I don't ask where we are going and she doesn't offer an explanation. Instead, we fall into step beside each other, our shoulders brushing ocassionally. My pulse is still racing, though I don't know if it's from the club or from the cold.

Sohyun's pace is unhurried, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans and I keep my arms wrapped around myself, pulling my sweater tight. After a while, we reach one of the taller campus buildings, its ivy covered walls bathed in the moonlight. During the day, these buildings always looks heavy, weighted down by unknown legacies. But under the silvery gloom of night, it has all been replaced by a strange sort of calm.

"Come" Sohyun gestures towards the side door as she leads me in. The hallway is dim, lit only by the low, humming lights overhead. She doesn't say a word as she climbs up the stairs, up and up until we reach the top floor. I'm breathless by the time we come to a stop in front of an old, rusted door, with a faded sign that reads Roof Access: Authorized Personnel Only.

Sohyun gives me a quick wink as she pushed open the door with a soft creak. "Not like anyone ever come here" She mutters to herself as she steps out into the night.

I follow her onto the roof, and for a moment, I'm stunned. The sky stretches out above us, a blanket of stars scattered across the black canvas of night. The city lights flicker below and I can still hear the distant sound of traffic but for the most part, it's quiet. Like the rooftop itself is another world within this world. The wind tugs at my sweater and I pull it even tighter around me, bracing against the sudden rush of cold.

Sohyun is already sitting at the edge of the roof, her legs dangling over the side, her gaze fixed on the stars. She pats the spot next to her and I sit, careful to keep a distance between us.

I tilt my head up, admiring the stars, feeling the enormity of the night settling down on me. "You come here often?"

"Yeah" Sohyun says, her voice soft. "Whenever I need to think. Or when I just need a breather"

I nod, unsure what to say. This isn't what I expected when she said something fun. But in a way, it's better.

We sit in silent for a moment, the only sounds the wind and the distant hum of the city below. This calm, it's peaceful and stirring at the same time. As if there's a deeper meaning to it that I can't quite grasp.

"It's funny" she says. "Back in the country, I used to lie out in the fields and just....watch the stars. Sometimes, I would stare at them for hours. It never fails to soothe me"

I watch the way her eyes trace the sky as if she's searching for something. To be honest, I have expected someone like her to be from a big city. An image of her anywhere else is unimaginable.

"Must've been nice" I murmur. "Being able to see them so clearly"

She nods. "Yeah. It's not the same here. The city kinda takes over. Light pollution and all"

I can hear the nostalgia in her voice and for a moment, I imagine her as a little girl lying under that wide country sky, her face lit by starlight. There's something tender about it, something that makes me want to reach for a fragment of her from a different time.

After a pause, I point up at the sky. "Well, we've got stars here too. Not as bright, but they are still there"

Sohyun tilts her head, following where I'm pointing and I can't help but smile a little. "Okay, bear with my nerdiness for a second"

She chuckles. "Go for it"

I lift my hand, tracing an invisible line through the air. "That's Orion. See the three stars right there, in a row? That's his belt"

Sohyun squints, trying to follow. "Oh, I think I see it"

"Orion was a hunter" my voice dropping slightly as I tell the story. "A really good one too. Some says he fell in love with the goddess Artemis but her brother, Apollo, wasn't too happy about it so he tricked Artemis into killing Orion" I pause. "She realized her mistake too late and heartbroken, she placed him among the stars so she can always see him"

The story hangs in the air when I finish. I glance at Sohyun, her face bathed in a soft glow. She's quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

"That's kind of sad" she says quietly.

"Yeah" I whisper. "It is"

I shift slightly, turning to face her and she does the same. Our eyes meet and for a moment, the world stills. I notice the way her hair flatters with the breeze, the city lights reflected in her eyes and the faint smile tug at her lips.

"You are really something, you know that?" she says, her voice low. "Is this your revenge for my espresso lecture?"

I blink, then smiles, feeling the tension melt away. "Maybe" I say, my voice almost teasing. "But instead of coffee, I use tragic mythological hunters"

Sohyun tilts her head, her smile widening. "Touché. You really know how to open-up someone"

"It's a natural talent" I shrug, although my sarcastic tone gives away the bluff.

"So, this is how you get back at people?" She continues, her voice still teasing. "By making them feel guilty for their ignorance about constellations"

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Please, you are not the first person to endure my mythology rants. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't longer"

"And I thought my espresso thesis was bad enough"

It's like we are back in the café except that now, I'm the one doing most of the talking. But we are still the same two people with their own crazy obsessions.

Then in the lightest of gestures, Sohyun reaches out. Her fingers find the sleeve of my sweater, gently tugging at the cuff, as though fixing it, like she did earlier. She looks at me, eyes warm and amused.

"Revenge or not" she says, letting her hand fall back to her side. "I think I like your stories"

I swallow, trying not to lose my footing in the closeness of the moment. "Well" I managed to say, my voice uneven. "Next time, I will make sure to pick a happier story"

Sohyun chuckles, leaning back, although her eyes never leave me. "I will hold you to that"

The air around us suddenly become charged with something unspoken. There's a quiet, almost reverent pause in the conversation as if neither of us wants to break whatever delicate thread is holding this moment together.

Sohyun shifts slightly, inching just the slightest to my side. The stars seem to burn brighter, and I find myself leaning into the silence, into the space between us that feels both heavy and light at the same time.

"Do you ever feel like....." Sohyun starts, her voice quiet, like she's speaking into the night as much as to me. "Like everything around you is waiting for something to happen?"

I blink, her words sinking into the stillness. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her gaze flickers back to the stars. "Like....right now, for instance" Her eyes meet mine again, and there's something in her expression, like she's trying to find the right words. "It's like we are on the edge of something"

Her words send a shiver through me, not from the cold but the hidden meaning underneath. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but it's one I've been pushing aside ever since we met. The strange pull towards her, a quiet fascination that has grown into something else entirely, something that's so wrong and so right at once.

I glance at her and find myself staring at the mole under her left eye, like I'm seeing her for the first time.

"I know what you mean" I finally say, my voice almost too quiet like I'm afraid to break this fragile peace between us. My hands tighten around the railing and I glance down for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "It's like.....something have changed"

She moves an inch more closer, the space between us nearly non-existent now. I wonder if she can hear my heartbeat now. My breath catch in my throat as she leans in, enough to cover the remaining space distancing us.

"You are right" she says softly. "Something has changed"

It's so quiet, her voice almost swallowed by the night. MY gaze flickers to her lips for a second - a brief unintentional moment that I quickly pull back from. But I wasn't quick enough.

Sohyun notices. I can see it in her way her expression shifts. And she knows that I know that she knows. Her hand, resting casually on the railing, moves slightly, her fingers brushing against mine in the lightest of touches. It's barely a graze but it's enough to send electricity tingling through my nerves.

The moment stretches, suspended between us, as if we're waiting for something to happen or maybe just waiting for one of us to make a move. The tension is palpable now, not uncomfortable, but thick, charged with possibility.

I can't tell who moves first, or if we even move at all. It's like an invisible force has suddenly drawn us together. Her face is so close now, I can see the way my breath mingles with hers in the cool night air.

Then slowly - so slowly it feels like the world is holding its breath - Sohyun lifts her hand. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my sweater, smoothing a wrinkle near my shoulder like she did the last two times. But this time, it's different. There's an unspoken intentionality to it that makes my breath quickens.

Her hand lingers, tracing the fabric for a moment longer than necessary. And then, without breaking eye contact, she lifts her other hand, gently tucking a strand of stray hair way from my face and tucking it behind my ear. The tender touch send a warmth through me.

Suddenly, everything feels sharper, more vivid - the sound of the wind, the soft glow of the city lights, the way her fingers linger near my cheek, as if she's waiting for my permission to go further.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, not even sure what I'm trying to say, but needing to say something, anything, to break the tension between us.

But she doesn't move. She just watches me, her eyes searching mine, her hand still resting gently on my cheek. "Is this okay?" she asks as if it's a secret we only know.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak without stuttering, unable to think of anything but the way her breath feels against my skin.

And then so so slowly, it feels like time has stopped, she leans in.

Her lips brush against mine in the lightest of touches, barely a kiss at all, more like a promise, like she's testing the waters, waiting for me to pull away, to tell her to stop.

But I don't. I won't.

Because in that moment, everything have ceased to exist - the city, the stars, the quiet night around us. All that's left is the warmth of her lips, the way they press against mine, gentle but certain.

I kiss her back, just as softly, just as tentatively. And for a moment, it feels like my life has reached its epitome.

Sohyun's hand, resting near my cheek, slides down to cup my jaw, her fingers warm against my skin. She tilts her head slightly, pressing her lips more firmly against mine, and I feel a soft sigh escape me before I could stop it.

My hands, awkward at first, find their way to her waist. I hold her there, not too tight, but enough to feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric. She responds by pulling me closer, her fingers slipping into my hair, tugging me gently, deepening the kiss.

Her hands move from my jaw, sliding down my neck, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. My heart is pounding louder than the wind around us, around the city below. The kiss becomes more insistent, more desperate, as if we are trying to say something through it, something words can't describe.

Sohyun's lips parts with mine and for a moment, I think she's finally pulling away. But instead, she moves closer, her breath ghosting against my jawline. A soft shiver runs through me when I feel the first press of her lips against my neck, light and teasing.

Her mouth moves slowly, gently exploring, like she's savoring the taste of my skin. Her lips trail down the side of my neck, and when she presses a firmer kiss jut below my ear, I can't stop the quiet gasp that betrays my lips.

Sohyun hears it. Of course, she does. And I feel her smile against my skin.

"You are so sensitive here, Xinyu" she whipsers before her lips continue their path lower, her hands finding the back of my neck.

When she presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of my neck, her tongue barley flicking against my skin, I feel my whole body tense with the intensity of it. My hands tighten around her waist, pulling her even closer, yearning for more.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice and her response is to kiss me harder, her lips hot against the sensitive skin of my neck.

The world won't stop spinning, I reduced to nothing but the sensation of her mouth, the warmth of her body against mine and the quiet, breathless sounds that fill the space between us. It's overwhelming and yet, I can't imagine it stopping anytime soon.

When it finally does, I can still feel the ghost of her lips lingering on my skin. I feel her breath, close to my neck for a second longer before she pulls back. The cool night air rushes in where her lips had been, but the heat she left behind stays, radiating beneath my skin.

I open my eyes, barely realizing I have closed them and glance at her. Sohyun doesn't say a word. She just leans in, her dark locks scattering as she rests her head on my shoulder. Her gaze is fixed on the stars, unblinking as if she's trying to imprint them to memory.

But then, without looking away, she lets out a quiet breath and says, so softly I almost miss it.

"Fucking Apollo"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[babyangelsky]

Okay. I had lunch, dripped barbecue sauce on my shirt, got the barbecue sauce out of my shirt, watered my plants, watered myself, and now I'm finally ready to put some thoughts down.

The thing most largely on my mind, apart from you know...everything?

The implosion had to happen this way.

And it had to happen this way because Sei and Kazuaki had already resolved not to end their relationships.

Complacency is a trap that's very hard to break out of. It almost tricks you into believing that change isn't worth it even if on some level you're aware that it's needed. Except in this case, the change has already happened. They agree to stay as they are so nothing will change and nothing will be destroyed, but it's been changing and that change has gone willfully unacknowledged.

Or it was going unacknowledged, I should say. But it can't anymore because Sei and Kazuaki both broke pattern.

I thought it was odd that Kaori made no mention of how her boyfriend took off in the middle of the night in the pouring rain and didn't come back. Their relationship is very broken but surely that would be a noteworthy occurrence.

Especially given the timing. He takes off moments after she rejected his attempt at intimacy and then just doesn't say anything? Just says she was bored and that's that?

Nope. That is not in fact, that. Kaori didn't say a word only because she never says a word. She exists in her relationship with blinders on. She likes everything about Kazuaki except that he's a man and won't question what that means or why that might be. She's content with the lack of intimacy, knows that Kazuaki isn't, and chooses to live with him asking her for sex instead of saying anything.

She's just as complacent as he is, albeit for different (possibly comphet) reasons, and since she's chosen not to think about it, it's been pretty chill for her.

Until Kazuaki broke pattern.

He didn't go back to his side of the room after her rejection like he always does. He went off-script. He left and didn't come back until the next day and that is a noteworthy occurrence.

So noteworthy, as a matter of fact, that she checked his phone after saying herself that she isn't the type of person to do that. And she didn't just check his phone, she left the house with it!

But not without first smashing the storm glass that Sei gave her on the floor, because in reading those emails, her blinders were torn off. There is no pretending anymore.

For her, or for Fujisawa.

He won't say anything either, but his face more than speaks for him. He knew Sei was lying him before Sei even made it out the door and he was not happy about it. Sei thinks Fujisawa is hiding something from him and I think he's right. What's more, I think that what Fujisawa is hiding is his displeasure and his jealousy.

Because after having seen this episode and the preview for next week's, there is not a doubt in my mind that Fujisawa is jealous. Not because he has romantic feelings for Sei, which I really don't believe he does, but because Sei is breaking pattern.

Everyone in this show is complacent. Everyone. But for Fujisawa in particular, I believe it's less about accepting the way things are and more about needing things to be a certain way. @respectthepetty went more into detail about that here.

And so far, the way he needs things to be IS the way they have been. Nothing has shaken the boat. The towels have all been white, there's been no TV, no parties, no flashy clothing, no one talking to Sei without going through him. Even Sei's attempts at connection and Fujisawa's repeated rejections are part of it because that's also happening the way it's supposed to.

But now the king of non-disruptive design is being disrupted. Sei is going places. He's talking to more people. He left the house in the middle of the night and lied about where he has going and Fujisawa has put himself in a position where he has to pretend to believe him. He has to pretend that nothing is happening.

Except that he can't, because now Kazuaki's phone call has utterly and completely destroyed any hope Fujisawa might've had to be able to bury his head in the sand and carry on as normal.

And he is not going to react well to having his control shaken.

When complacency is this profoundly seated, dragging everything out into the open and being forced to deal with it is the only way for an actual sustainable change to happen. You almost do have to be removed from choice because breaking pattern isn't enough.

You have to break EVERYTHING apart to such a degree and in such a manner that you cannot put it back together in the exact same way it was before.

[aayakashii]

an anon asked me to write a yandere fic featuring either Romeo or Jin and, since I already wrote Romeo's, now it's Jin time (￣^￣)ゞ I'm not really sure how I feel about this one tbh ‎

also, please pretend Jin can keep controlling his stigma for a long time and dispel it only when he wants to for this fic to work thank you

Warnings: Yandere!Jin, obsessive behavior, confinement, maybe a few gross descriptions, but nothing too explicit

frostbite

Jin turned the key, locking the imponent doors to his room, hands trembling and clammy. He wasn't a stranger to anger and disappointment – heavens knew he felt it quite frequently about himself, but this time, it clearly wasn't that simple.

He could live with his self-loathing, but with this strange, foreign feeling tugging at his heartstrings, he felt like he was choking.

He didn't know jealousy until now.

You looked like a cornered animal as your gaze flickered to the lock on his door, shoulders tensing up as if your body readied itself to run from danger.

His poor little defenseless lamb.

Jin took long, slow strides towards your figure, and he couldn't contain the smirk that tugged on the corners of his lips as he saw you fidget in place, uncomfortably.

His tall figure overshadowed you as he got close – you flinched, shutting your eyes tight as he moved one of his hands to touch your cheek. It slid languidly to your neck, your shoulders, your arms, finally settling on your hands.

Your eyes opened wide as he intertwined his fingers with yours and his smile grew wider as he saw realization dawn on you just a little bit slower than his words.

“You are not allowed to run away from me and you are not allowed to speak.” he murmured against the skin of your hand as he brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on it.

You blinked fast, the command reverberating into your mind like words echoing in a deep, bottomless canyon. Your mouth closed, and your limbs went limp – all fight dissipating from your body in a split second.

Jin's smile left his face like melting ice and he sighed deeply, letting go of your hand unceremoniously.

Finally, he could relax. Everything was soon going to be fixed.

You see, you left him no choice. If only he knew sooner, he wouldn't need to be so rash with his decisions – but, to be fair, he was also the one to blame.

If he left his room more frequently, then maybe he would be able to prevent the mockery of him that, apparently, kept happening outside his door.

If he just kept his eyes and hands on you at all times from the very beginning, you would never have the time to get close to any of those pathetic colleagues of his.

Jin knew very well Darkwick would have you assigned to other houses (despite his protests and phone calls to his father), but he thought you were smarter than that – he thought you would never take advantage of the time he allowed you to have in order to fulfill your missions.

He never said you could spend time with the peasants from other houses, now did he?

He never allowed you to breathe the same disgusting air of those brutes from Vagastrom or those unrefined weirdos from Jabberwock of your own accord, did he?

He never said you could mingle with the morally decayed thugs from Sinostra or those depressing vipers from Hotarubi, did he?

Oh, he gave you so much freedom, and you still tried to walk a stray path. Once again, his trust was broken, but rest assured: he'd make sure you would never forget who you belong to ever again.

Jin fished out a cigarette pack from his pockets, taking one out as he looked at you.

You stared at the floor, avoiding his gaze, arms hugging your own body tightly as you shivered. Out of fear or out of cold, he didn't know. But that was exactly how he wanted you: quiet, gentle, submissive to him and his whims. That was how his precious property was supposed to act.

Jin put a cigarette in between his lips, before changing his mind and getting close to you once again. He tipped your chin upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb touched your lower lip, pushing it downwards.

“Open your mouth” he murmured, and you complied hesitantly, having no other choice.

His other hand brought the cigarette to your lips, and pushed it inside your mouth. Your eyes widened and you tried shaking your head to spit it out, but his previously gentle hand held your head in place with an iron grip.

“Be quiet. I know you don't smoke. I just want you to light it for me.” he grumbled, putting his lighter on your hand.

Jin stepped back, mildly pleased at the way the cigarette hung limp from your lips, and motioned at your hand and then your mouth, egging you to do as he said.

You blinked, confused, but ultimately brought the lighter towards the cigarette. Your untrained hand flickered the lighter once, twice, thrice before a flame stood still enough for you to bring the end of the stick to the fire.

The flame burned the tip of the cigarette, lighting more than was necessary, and the smoke went straight down your throat. You took the cigarette out of your mouth before a coughing fit overwhelmed you, the disgusting smoke entering your lungs and choking you, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. Immediately after, acid refluxed to your throat, and you swallowed, feeling it burn down your chest.

Jin chuckled at your inexperience, and leisurely walked to his desk, fetching a glass of water. Your trembling hands accepted it from him as he grabbed the poorly lit cigarette from your sweaty fingers.

He put it in between his lips and took a long drag.

His mind went straight to the way your lips touched the stick, and he rolled his eyes back as the smoke billowed out of his mouth, feeling pathetic over how his heart skipped beats at the mere thought of an indirect kiss.

He didn't need to find reprieve in dumb little ways like that anymore. Now that he had you where he wanted you, he could be patient until you gave him the attention he truly deserved.

“Do you know why I summoned you here?” he asked, after puffing his cigarette a few more times.

You sat on his loveseat, still coughing from time to time, and shook your head, meekly.

“I have heard from Tohma. You've been babysitting that new Obscuary monster.” Jin tapped his foot, the sound echoing inside his heavily soundproofed room. “I don't suppose that is a mission, now is it?”

You flailed your arms around you, trying to explain yourself without your voice and he clicked his tongue.

“It doesn't matter. Even if it is, it's absurd. I thought I told you you were to answer my requests at all times.” he sat beside you on the loveseat, his icy eyes burning like frostbite.

“And now I find out you are actually wasting precious time with other students. What's worse, you've also been answering to that self-important bankrupt from Sinostra.” he shook his head, disbelief and anger on his features as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“You've been forgetting your priorities.” he sighed and played with a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear.

“I have been so patient. Holding back all this time, giving you freedom that you don't deserve. But now I see my mistake. One would think I have learned I shouldn't trust anyone, but I thought a little harmless lamb like you wouldn't betray me.”

Your breath became ragged at his threatening words, and you coughed again, your throat still hurt and burning.

“I will have you make a little decision for me, and I hope you'll be wise” his hand cupped your cheek gently, thumb stroking your skin, damp with cold sweat.

“I want you to dedicate your entire time to me, as you should have done from the very beginning. I want you to act accordingly to the fact that you're mine. Don't fucking waste your days on anyone else and be at my beck and call, like the obedient little lamb you should have always been. Otherwise…” his thumb landed back on your lips.

“Otherwise, I'll unfortunately have to force the academy to expel those two second year brats from my house, since you seem to be so fond of them” he smirked, chest swelling with pride at the way your eyes widened and glistened with tears that threatened to fall.

“I'm sure you'll make the proper decision. You weren't very well behaved, but I'm sure you aren't that dumb.” he patted your cheek and got up, walking towards his door.

“I will leave you to think about it. You are allowed to speak and move properly now” he quickly opened the lock while you gasped, your hands clawing your throat as you tried to call his name, begging him to wait.

He stepped outside, giving a final glance at your trembling form, still slumped on his loveseat, although your arms tried to reach out toward him.

“Oh, and try not to scream. No one will hear you anyway.” he smiled, satisfied with what he saw, and locked the door once again, confining you in the freezing loneliness of his room.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Golden Cassandra

People don't listen. Not when what your saying, scares them. Especially when, what you're saying, scares them. They like to pretend, instead. That if they don't hear you? It's not happening. Can't and WON'T happen. That you're just a liar. Speading fear, for the fun of it.

But oh, when has reality ever been that kind? That agreeable?

Tell me, WHEN has it ever bowed to the tantrums of men?

I can't think of a single instance. Knew it wouldn't now, either. So, really? What was I to do? Keep trying? Beat my head against walls of willful ignorance, until the deigned to give? Hoping, against all reason and evidence, that they MIGHT, just MAYBE, do so in the nick of time? Please. I was hopeful, not a fool. Optimism does not render a soul naive.

Like the fall of Atlantis, the sacking of Rome. Great Alexandria burning. Everything was going to be destroyed. Rather dramatically, too, and rather deservedly. I couldn't and DIDN'T defend it. Try to change it? Yes. Try to SAVE them? Absolutely. But not once, not EVER, would I defend it.

After all, it was a system built upon the backs of slaves.

Death was the only reasonable outcome. Revolution, the Voice, of those unheard and in chains. Their magic, their power, used for the convenience of their so called "betters". It was disgusting. Vile.

Set dressing, for an Otome Game.

As though their VERY LIVES, their SUFFERING and SOULS, were nothing but pretty little plot points in someone else's PLAY! The indignities they faced. The starvation and thirst. Being forced to watch friend and loved ones suffer, Scream, DIE!

But Oh, at least the Protagonist gets her handsome meat to oogle. They'll know their place, as they play along. Broken nicely and so very, VERY greatful for her scraps. She can play at revolutionary. Or perhaps at savior, should she feel the need. Assuming she doesn't leave them in chains.

And I? Oh I am supposed to play dress up and face her, in some sick "duel" of love! Abuse and use to my heart's content! The Gods jest. For I will do no such thing!

I can barely recall the plot. Only that the gloss over the rather significant socioeconomic and political fall out that is sure to follow. The Kingdom is not going to survive. Should it not be one sort of Revolutionary revolt, it will be another. Corruption, stagnation, and willful ignorance are simply too wide spread among the upper echelons. Baked too deeply into the foundations.

Gods... I... I tried.

It hurts. Like ripping out finger nails, one by one, when I finally gather enough. Not even all that I wish I could. But simply... enough. There is not enough time, the rumblings of revolution have grown too loud. I... I HAVE too go. And... and I know they won't come with me. My friends, my family, the neighbors. All those who smile, nod, and listen but don't believe a word I say.

The pain is hollowing. A truely special sort of hell.

Looking back, to little cousins on tiny legs, helping you pack. With their round little cheeks and small little hands. Watching them try to lift bags like a "grown up". Your friends and family, treating it all like a trip to the country side and not the last time you'll ever see them. The... the day being... being so accursedly normal. Mild weather and gentle breeze. Like your world isn't ending. Like everything isn't gone.

Wanting to be wrong. Traveling and traveling. Wanting to be wrong. Everything mild, calm and sweet. A hell of self doubt. Every night and every dawn. Are you insane? Were they right all along? Were you reading signs, portents of Doom, where there were none? But still... you travel. A caravan filled with your life's work.

Every scrap of modern knowledge. A copy of every work and definitive artwork. Every play, treatise, and textbook. Every old Diary I could get my hands on and endless days patrolling the book markets. A lifetime's work. All spent in hand-me-downs and out of fashion clothes, just for this. The preservation of knowledge.

But what if I'm wrong?

Fiddling with the piles of ward stones, as I get farther and farther north. Closer and closer to the land I stashed away. Hidden, within layers upon layers, of ever circling bureaucracy. A magic rich grove of Gold-leaf Ginko. They would have been harvested to oblivion, if I hadn't hidden them, and the species is already endangered.

I have been using a tower I built (in a natural clearing, as I would sooner remove my own limbs, then a single branch upon one of those trees) there as a seed bank. Every endangered magical plant species I came across? I sent as many seed as I could, to my bank. Had even begun the lengthy process of creating automatons, so they could build a green house (carefully!) into the mountain.

Seems I will have nothing but time, now, to dedicate to that project.

As I get closer, passing through the beginning of the valley towns (that lead into the high lands)? My Family Ring breaks. The terrible Crack of it, a sharp knife to the gut, splitting the morning silence. Father is... oh Gods, Father is...

Yet, even before I can come to terms with this terrible new reality? Beneath my travel cloak and jacket, nestled precious like the love it represented, my Clan Mantle begins to snap and crack like popcorn. Enchanted stone beads cracking apart violently, with the lose of the life they were made to represent. Shrapnel tearing at my clothes as I desperately rip at my cloak, my jacket, blood already welling up from various wounds.

Pop, dead. Crack, dead. Snap! Dead.

I manage to rip the heavy necklace from around my shoulders. Already half the bead are gone. More, like lethal firecrackers, shooting off even as I fling the enchanted jewelry into a nearby leather bag. Scramble for a nearby heavy blanket to cover it. Blood stains everything, dripping from shallow nicks and shrapnel wounds alike. I... oh gods, I barely notice I'm crying.

The sounds have startled the horses. One of them even got hurt. It.. it takes hours to fix. I have to stop in the next town. Shaking. Shaking. I.. I think I may be shaking. C-crying. "To remember where you came from." That's... oh god. That's what Clan Mantle's are FOR. A symbolic gift, really. They... they could never have known.

That it would actually serve it's original purpose. It's ancient purpose. The reason they USED to be made. To... to show who was still ALIVE. Oh gods. I... I can't check. Can't bear to look. The sound has stopped. Is it over? Are... is there...? Please, gods, don't make me look. Don't make me KNOW, how few members of my own family are left.

I was right. Gods, damn them.

Gods damn them all.

I was RIGHT.

Bandaged, healed, I travel faster. Time is running out. It doesn't matter, now, which "route" she took. Everything will have fallen apart. I reach my grove and don't even bother to set up a tent. Wards before all. Better to sleep on the floor, then be caught unaware. I work around the clock. Feeling like clawed fingers are ever so gently, wrapping around my throat, one at a time. Tick, tock, tick, tock. And oh, the tighter they squeeze.

Barely... BARELY! Do the wards thrum to life, deep and powerful, before I feel some almost god like crash into them. My hands shake. Still kneeling in the dirt, from where I placed the last stone, I slowly look up. And... and curling above the golden trees? Shades of copper catch the light. Massive and leaning. Stepping on my wards. Looking down in annoyance, as they refuse to part.

(Distantly, I hear the horses scream in terror. I... I wish I could do the same.)

I flee. Scrambling without dignity, back to the seed bank's tower. Trying to keep out of sight. A hopeless endeavor, I know. What other reason could such a power Dragon be out here for? If not to finish what was started? But... but hope has carried me so FAR. Can it not carry me just a bit farther?

No attacks come. No insults or threats. Yet...

The presence does not leave.

I can not hide forever, for all that fear exhausts and bids me too. All my supplies are out side. My wards, at least seem, to have held? But how can I trust it? Knowing just how strong a dragon's magis is. Sure enough, the second I step outside? There he stands. The copper dragon. Just beyond the wards.

Worse still? He is a man I recognize. Which can only invite pain and suffering, as he played no small part in the revolution. Not to mention, his significance to that damnable Game. Was he "supporting character"? A "hidden route"? An antagonist I could not quite recall? I can not place it. He was THERE, but not lead about by the nose, like the others. Not broken, as they were.

Now, here he stands, light catching off his ornaments and nails. As he tap, tap, taps them lightly against my wards. In sequence. Amused. His eyes locked with mine and glowing from within. Fire and magic made manifest. The king was a fool to think he owned this man. A "royal gaurd dog" indeed. Ha! They brought death into their house, then kicked it.

A slow smile, spreading like poison through sleeping veins, creeps across that deceptively youthful face. Sharp, sharp teeth are revealed to the air. I think I may amuse him. Perhaps I have for quite a while. I have made it no secret, after all, that I know he is dangerous. Treated him as the threat he truely IS. Others thought it was funny. Would find excuses to shove me at him, just to see me panic. All the while, he pretended, like a GOOD little dog, to be polite.

His eyes had always been laughing.

And now? He doesn't even bother to hide.

"You ran away." His voice rings out, the barest hint of rasp, like the drawing of a blade. It fills the silence. Demands attention. "Did you think I wouldn't be able to find you?"

To be honest? I had hoped no one would look. That I had given them no reason to even try. Perhaps that had been naive. I was a part of the system too, in the end. Guilt by association. That didn't explain him, however. Had I wronged him? Beyond the obvious. (And the obvious sat between us, like so much rotten filth. How could ANYONE over look that?)

"Their courts burned, just like you always warned they would. You should have seen it."

He stopped to chuckle. Closer to a sneer, then a sound of true amusement. His distain and delight intertwining as he savored the memory. He leaned closer. Letting his forehead press against the barrier. Enjoying, reliving, his moment of triumph, once again.

"Ha, ha~ Oh, but you should have seen their faces. When they realized you were right. That you had warned them and warned them, but they had refused to listen! It was glorious, darling. They howled with such regret and fear. A magnificent symphony~ you made for me."

I backed up against the carts. The wounds from broken beads stinging harshly with every shift, like the screaming of the dead. Scared. Gods, I'm s-so scared. I can't possibly have invited this... r-right? I never flirted or... or suggested anything! So-! So why is-?! Gods, why is he here?!

"You can't run from me, clever girl. Not for long. You saw me and I see you. Too clever by half. They really should have listened~!" He broke off to laugh, a sharp mockery of the dead. Fangs catching the light. "But they didn't, did they? My poor clever girl. We truely were buried by filth, weren't we? How glorious it must be. To finally be free."

"But~! Did you really think you could escape ME, my clever girl?"

"You're not nearly so foolish. Open the barrier, darling."

"Let me in. Our revolution is over, I have won."

"Now you can't escape me~"

[interdimensionaltales]

Drifting back to you

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x reader

Word Count: 981

Warnings: besides not having been beta, for now, none. (this will probably change in the future)

Summary: What if you were on a quest to figure out why you're so different from your kind and ended up stranded at sea with Sauron himself disguised as a mortal Southlander? What is it that sets you apart? Can you find the answers and accept yourself? Why is Sauron, the most powerful sorcerer in the world, pretending to be a commoner? Trying to forget? Binding his time? Pretending nothing happened? On top of that, there's a force that brings you two together and keeps you both drifting back to each other again and again no matter how much he, or you both, try to deny it. And the power that he feels coming from you may be it or it may be love. That's what you both need to figure out.

PS: This probably has been done before, the idea is not revolutionary. I read a lot of fic, but my ship is Haladriel and other fandoms so I've never read anything like this and I'm a little bitch for someone powerful meeting their equal and questioning everything so... Here we are.

This is the first time I'm trying to write my own, please be kind, but feedback and advice are welcomed. English is not my first language. This fic is intended to be multichaptered, but I figured I'd post what I came up with first to see if I could get a boost or the very least some feedback that would help me to get to a full fic. Anyway, let me know if you guys think it has potential! Thanks for reading!

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

There wasn't much that could bring you comfort in a strange land, with strange people and their customs. After what you have been through, one would think that any comfort would do. Being stranded at sea has a way of making people seek out the best that life has to offer once back on land, but for you, there wasn't much to find beside the company of the one you were stranded with. Halbrand. The tall brunette, with his calm stance and inquisitive eyes that came to be so familiar now. No matter what wonders you would find on this so-called island of Númenor, you always ended up drifting back to him. So there you were again at his shores.

''It's been a fortnight now, Halbrand,'' you said, pulling out a stool at one of the bar's table, sitting in defeat.'' A fortnight, they said we would be given a chance to get into a guild. What are they waiting for? What's taking so long? What are we supposed to do meanwhile?''

''Enjoy our stay.'' he replied, amusement plastered on his face when he saw the look on yours.

''I have, and now I'm ready to do something more meaningful. '' You sighed. You were so tired of this aimless days filled with ale and idle time. You couldn't wait anymore, you needed answers, you needed to understand what was happening to you and the only way to do that was to get into that tower, the library. ''There has to be a way to speed things up.'' you said and rested your face on your hands.

He looked at you with those lazy eyes, a soft gaze but ever inquisitive. Why were you so set on getting a job? It couldn't be just boredom, otherwise, you would have taken on any other jobs available. It has to be the tower, but what do you want to find there? You were rubbing your face in frustration but that didn't tell him any more than he already knew so he drank the rest of the content in his cup and spoke again.

''There are many ways,'' he said standing up, ''You just need to know how far are you willing to go.''

He gestured to you ''Let's go for a walk.''

Halbrand knew. He knew that whatever it was that he was feeling didn't have space in his life or in him right now. It never had, it couldn't have. He was given a second chance at peace if you could call it given. He should have just left, he should have started putting some distance between you two a while ago, nothing good comes from wanting more than you can have, even worse, deserve it. But there he was, walking around with you, listening to you, being captivated by you, and far worse, wanting to help you get what you want. So he stayed, just a while longer, he did indeed tell you to enjoy things a bit more, he was just following his own advice and basking in your presence while he could ignore that gnawing feeling in him. The one that kept telling him how starved he was of something only you could give him.

''Where are we going?'' You asked taking him out of his reverie. He looked at you and licked his lips, a reminiscence of those unwanted feelings still lingering in his mind and the thought of where you both could go flooded him making it harder to shove those feelings down.

''We are going to speed things up'' He said making his way into the busy streets. ''More often than not, life is nothing but a trade, ''he continued. ''If you want something you need to know what to give in return.''

''Halbrand,'' you called struggling to keep up, ''We can't buy our crest, there's nothing we can give in re-- Sorry.'' you said bumping into a stranger, which made you fall behind a bit so you rushed to catch up with him. ''Even if we could,'' you continued zigzagging your way into the crowd so you were just a couple steps behind him, ''We don't have any-'' when he turned around and you ran into him, your face right into his chest. ''-money.'' He held you in place by your arms, balancing you. People going around you both in the crowd. You were never this close to him before. Sure, on the raft, you had to sleep side by side for the lack of space, but nothing like this. You were so close you could taste the salt on his skin, he smelled of smoke, leather, and iron. You were just about to evaporate into smoke too if it wasn't for the feeling of those callous hands on your skin, condensing you into form. Taking a sharp breath, you looked at him. He was looking down, his gaze fixed on your face. A battle raging in his hazy eyes

The way you were pressed against him made him never want to let you go, he had barely managed to shove those feelings down, and with one touch of you, he was lost in it again. What was this? All he could think about was how he wanted to keep touching you. The softness of your skin was a foreign concept to him, nothing in his later life has ever felt like this. It made him think of before, of the beginning. Enough! This is madness. There's no going back and no way this could work. It took all the strength in him to let go of you. It's a waste of time, he thought, there's no way I deserve this. ''Let's go'' he said, but took your hand nonetheless, guiding you through the crowd.

[lachatalovematcha]

I hate I hate people who think they know everything but in reality they know nothing I saw the jirai kei post today hehe sorry for the delay but I'm new to tumblr seriously these people always do this to me especially with anime When I write something wrong they come running, correct me because they think I don't know And another thing, you can be sure that jirai kei is much more of a musical genre than depressive images created by *American* girls hehe SORRY to talk about this old subject now but like I said I'm new here and I love jirai kei and I also loved discovering your blog

🎀🌈🥕 Hi, I'm glad you liked my blog 🎀🌈🥕

🎀🌈🥕 This jirai kei story is really tiring, but 🎀🌈🥕

🎀🌈🥕 I agree with everything you said 🎀🌈🥕

People who think they know everything are really stressful 🎀🌈🥕

🎀🌈🥕 about people correcting you, I only agree to correct you when someone asks for my opinion, like in the case of sugarbunnies🎀🌈🥕

Sometimes when I post something I don't put the name in the tags

🎀🌈🥕 an example of vn (anime) 𝙉𝙀𝙆𝙊✿𝙋𝘼𝙍𝘼 I accidentally changed the names of two characters, a few minutes later about 5 people appeared correcting me....ok, because I imagine none of them acted badly So I don't take these things into consideration I have no resentments lol.... 🎀🌈🥕

🎀🌈🥕 What I don't like is when I post an anime and I don't include the tag due to lack of space or another reason 🎀🌈🥕

🎀🌈🥕 This really happened but it was with something else: 🎀🌈🥕

🎀🌈🥕 I posted KANON and didn't tag the name, then a genius appeared saying the name, you know, thinking I don't know it and he wrote like KANON IS MY WARMUP MAP 🎀🌈🥕

🎀🌈🥕 You know, like pretending I didn't want to do it, but doing it and loving it thinking I'm stupid, he was sure I didn't know what KANON's name was, just because I never tagged the name in my posts 🎀🌈🥕

🎀🌈🥕 because anyone who has known my blog for a long time knows that I only post what I know, and another thing I know is that I know a lot more about THE SUPPOSED KANON than he does, which I'm sure he only found out about because of the aesthetics on Pinterest, if you doubt it he doesn't even dream that KANON is a game lol 🎀🌈🥕

🎀🌈🥕 It's not even KANON that I'm talking about, I used the name KANON just as an example of another vn I don't want to expose the person 🎀🌈🥕Why this person acted badly?, well, maybe because the Supposed KANON is not famous at all and not many people know about it, so he went and said the name in a way that pretended he had known him for a long time 🎀🌈🥕but this type of person can't fool me, he just knows it and says he LIKES it because of the aesthetics I doubt he's ever played the game I really doubt it🎀🌈🥕sorry for being boring as always and the size of the text is clueless🎀🌈🥕and better late than never

🎀🌈🥕BYE BYE AND THANK U FOR ASK🎀🌈🥕

[lee-laurent]

My Biggest Hater - Jamie Drysdale

Summary: Jamie meets his biggest hater

content: fluff, angst, disapproving parents, kissing, mentions of sex, innuendos, mentions of break ups, engagements

wc: 9.6k

notes: enjoy!! i have serious writer's block atm, so this is the best i've got

Georgina Elwood was so in love with Jamie Drysdale that it hurt. The moment she set eyes on him through the glass of a Flyers game, she was hooked. And it was clear to anyone looking at that them that he felt exactly the same way.

But that wasn't how Georgina had ever planned her life going. She wasn't supposed to fall for an athlete, a hockey player. Her parents would never approve of that. Sports were seen as entertainment in her family and a rare entertainment at that. Sports weren't a serious career, a stable career. Yet, one night at the Well Fargos Centre changed everything for her.

~~

Georgina hadn't even planned to go to the game. It had been her best friend Olivia's idea, a spontaneous decision after a long week of studying for upcoming finals at UPenn. Olivia had convinced her with a mischevious grin and two tickets at the glass (Olivia had her parents' credit card).

"Come on, Georgie. Just one night of fun. You need a break from all the pressure. No one has to know," Olivia teased, slipping her arm through Georgie's as they walked toward the arena. The lights of Philadelphia flickered above them, the cool autumn air picking up leaves and spinning them all around. Georgie rolled her eyes, but secretly agreed with her best friend. Her parents would be horrified to know she was spending the evening watching a sport instead of spending it inside studying more than necessary.

She expected nothing more than a forgettable night--maybe a few laughs, some shit food, and minor ear damage. But as soon as they took their seats, Georgie's eyes were drawn to the player sporting 'Drysdale 9' on the back of his jersey.

She didn't really care about his name, just how skilled he was when it came to skating. He held her attention in a way she hadn't expected anyone at the game to. Every time the puck came near their seats, she found herself leaning forward to follow his every move.

"He's cute, huh?" Olivia nudged her, catching onto her staring.

"What? No," Georgie blushed, pretending to focus on the game. But she wasn't really watching the game. She was watching him. It was just him, gliding along the ice like it's what he was made to do.

And then, near the end of the second period, something unexpected happened. Jamie was checking the bench when, by pure chance, his eyes swept over the crowd behind it and landed directly on Georgina. It was just a brief moment, but their eyes locked.

Her breath caught in her throat.

He smiled. Not a flashy, "I'm-a-professional-athlete" kind of smile, but something subtle, almost shy, as if he was surprised that she had been looking at him.

"Georgie, he's totally looking at you!" Olivia squealed beside her, shaking her shoulders. Georgie tried to play it off, but the blush creeping up her face gave her away.

It felt ridiculous, but locking eyes with him felt right. Like they say in every romance novel ever--sparks.

It was after the game that things really changed. She was sitting in a bar with Olivia, sipping whatever fruity cocktail her friend had ordered for the two of them. Olivia was chattering excitedly about the game, not noticing how zoned-out Georgina was. She couldn't shake the image of Jamie's face when their eyes met.

"You're still thinking about him, aren't you?" Olivia teased.

"It's not like that."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say. But I saw that look. He was totally into you. I bet you could've got his number if he wasn't like... on the ice."

"I doubt he even remembers I exist. Besides, I'm not going to throw myself at some guy just because he smiled at me during a game."

"Whatever. Let me tell you about that cute guy from calc..."

The night wore on, and Georgie found herself listening to best friend yap and yap about the frat boy in their calc course. That was until Olivia nearly spilled her drink in excitement, pointing towards the door.

"Georgie! Look! Fucking look!" she hissed, grabbing her arm.

Jamie had just walked in, still wearing his post-game jacket and laughing with a couple of his teammates. He looked even better without the glass between them--tall, with tousled hair and freckles.

"We have to talk to him. Come on!"

"Olivia, no!" The last thing she wanted was to embarass herself in front of the guy she'd been caught staring at. "I am not doing this."

"You don't have to. I'll do it. Just act cool."

Before Georgina could protest, Olivia was already standing, waving Jamie and his teammates over with confidence. Jamie's eyes found hers again, a glimmer of recognition lighting up his face. He nudged his friend and in a few large strides they were standing next to the two girls.

"Hey," Jamie greeted. "You were at the game, right?"

"Yep! My best friend couldn't stop watching you," Olivia teased, shooting a look at Georgie. "She's a huge friend now, right, Georgie?"

She cleared her throat, forcing a smile. "It was... a good game."

"Glad you enjoyed it. Do you, uh, do you come to a lot of games?" Jamie asked, leaning in.

"This was actually my first one," she admitted. "I, um, I'm not super into sports."

"Really?" Jamie seemed genuinely surprised. "And yet you somehow ended up right at the glass?"

"That's all Olivia. She dragged me here tonight."

"Well, I'm glad she did," his voice made her stomach fill with butterflies. Before she could respond, he offered to buy her a drink. She agreed and every time she looked up that night, Jamie's eyes were already on her.

~~

Georgie awoke to the feeling of Jamie pressing kisses to her collar bone and neck. She sleepily reached up, blindly running a hand through his hair.

"Mmm, good morning."

"Morning, Gee," Jamie's voice was low and gravelly with sleep as he nestled closer, his arm draping over her waist. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better now," she whispered, tilting her head to give him more space to press kisses.

Moments like that, waking up beside him, felt like they were living in their own little world. A world where her parents' opinions didn't matter, where their judgement couldn't reach her. But deep down she knew she couldn't hide Jamie forever.

"You look like you're in deep thought," his lips brushing against her ear, his hand tracing patterns on her hip. He could read her like a book.

"Just thinking."

She hestitated. She hadn't told him yet about her plan to bring him to her parents' summer house. She wasn't even sure if it was the right move. Her parents had never met anyone she'd dated, and she had no idea how they'd react to Jamie. But she hated keeping their love a secret.

"Thinking about my parents."

Jamie's hand stopped it's slow carress. He knew how complicated things were when it came to her family. She had shared bit and pieces of growing up in Greenwich--how she went to boarding school, how her brother was a glorified frat boy, how her parents had unrealistic expectations for her entire life.

"You're still worried about them?"

"It's just... they're not like you. They won't understand us, not the way we do. And I'm not sure how to explain that to them without it turning into a disaster."

Jamie's jaw ticked. He had a vague understanding of her parents judginess, hence why he had yet to meet them in the 7 months that they'd been together. But he also didn't want the love of his life ripped from his arms because he wasn't what her father had pictured for his little princess.

"I love you Georgie," he leaned in to capture her lips in a loving kiss.

"I love you too, Jimmy," she mumbled against his mouth.

"Now, we've still got an hour until Cam comes home. So... are we taking advantage of this empty apartment or what?"

~~

Georgie sat on the couch, nervously twirling a loose thread on the Flyers shirt she'd stolen from Jamie. Jamie was in the kitchen making her her daily coffee, his back to her, completely unaware of the conversation she was about to start.

She'd been thinking about it for weeks--how to bring it up, how to convince him it was the right time. But every scenario that played out in her head made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Hey, Jamie?"

"Yeah?" He turned, two mugs in his hands, walking over to sit with her.

"I was thinking... maybe it's time for you to meet my parents."

The words hung in the air between them. Jamie placed the two mugs down on the coffee table, his eyes darkening with uncertainty.

"Georgie, we've talked about this," he said slowly, sitting back against the couch. "You know how your parents feel about... athletes. Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"I know it's complicated, Jamie, but I don't want to keep hiding you from them. It's been seven months. They're going to find out eventually and it'll probably be worse if we wait too long."

"But why now? What's the rush? It's not like they're begging to meet me. Hell, they don't even know I exist."

"That's the point, Jamie! I don't want to keep you a secret! I love you, and I want them to see what I see."

He stood up abruptly. "And what if they don't, Georgina? What if they don't see it? Hmm? You've told me enough about them for me to know that they've made up their minds about who's 'worthy' of their daughter. I'm just a dumb hockey player to them. Nothing more."

"Don't say that," she pleaded, standing up and reaching out to him. "You're so much more than that to me. I'm not asking for their approval--I'm asking for a chance."

"A chance for what? To be judged by people who look down on me because I play a sport for a living? You know how that'll go. And I don't want to go through that."

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her voice breaking. Jamie never raised his voice at her like that. "Jamie, please. I can't keep living in two separate worlds like this. I love you, and I want them to know you. I'm trying to do the right thing."

He sighed, his frustration being replaced by exhaustion. "I get that you're trying, Georgie. But what happens when it goes to shit? What happens when they decide they don't approve? Are you ready for that? Because I'm not sure I am."

She had never considered the possibility of losing Jamie because her parents didn't approve.

"So, what are you saying?" she whispered.

"I'm saying that I don't want to be the reason your family turns against you. I can't watch that happen."

"So, what, you'd rather just keep things easy? Stay in our little bubble and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist?" Her voice rose, sharp with hurt... betrayal.

"That's not what I'm saying, Georgie, and you know it."

"Then what are you saying? Because right now, it sounds like you're just looking for an excuse to avoid them forever!"

"Maybe I am! Maybe I don't want to go somewhere where I know I'm not welcome. Did you ever think about that?"

The room went silent, then tension between them suffocating. Georgie felt her heart pounding in her chest, her head spinning. She turned away from him, running a hand through her hair. "I'm going home."

The clicked shut behind her, leaving Jamie standing in the living room. He sank into the couch, burying his face in his hands. He sat like that for a few minutes until his phone buzzed with a message from Cam.

Everything good? Heard some of it from my room. Wanna talk?

Not really. I don't know what to do, man. I think she's really pissed

~~

Georgie stormed into her apartment, throwing her keys on the counter. She let out a long, frustrated groan, running her hands through her hair.

Olivia looked up from the couch, a pint of ice cream in her lap. "Uh-oh. What happened?"

"He's being fucking impossible, Liv!" She made her way to the kitchen, pulling a bottle of white wine from the fridge and pouring herself an above average sized glass.

"Impossible how?" Liv asked, shoving the spoon in her mouth.

"He doesn't want to meet my parents. Like, at all. He think they'll judge him--well, actually, he knows they will. But that's not the point!" she exclaimed, hoisting herself up to sit on the kitchen island. "I get it, okay? My parents are... difficult people. But I love him, I want them to see how much love I have for him."

"Mmhmm. So, he's refusing to go? Flat-out?"

"Yeah! And he's making it sound like some horrible fucking trap I'm setting him up for. I'm not asking him to marry me for fuck's sake. I just want them to meet him. It's been seven months!"

"Okay, okay, slow down, Georgie. Come sit over here."

Georgie placed her wine on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch with a huff. Olivia handed her the ice cream without a word, and Georgie accepted it, digging in angrily.

"I just don't understand him! He just assumes the worst is going to happen. He thinks they're gonna like pull me out of school so he'll never see me again. I mean, sure, they're judgey as hell, but who's to say they won't come around when they see how happy I am?"

"I mean, Georgina, your parents aren't exactly known for being the most... open-minded people. You've told me plently horror stories about your dad giving guys that were just your friends the third degree for way less than being a professional athlete."

"I know, I know. But I thought they'd see how happy I am with him and... am I being delusional?"

"Not like totally. But def a bit. You have to like see where Jamie's coming from. He's just trying to protect himself--and probably you--from a big mess. Maybe he's scared of putting you in a position where you have to choose."

"He actually said something like that. He doesn't want to be the reason my family turns against me. But that's not fair. He's not the problem. My parents are! I can't live like this though, Liv. Pretending they don't exist, or pretending the love of my life doesn't exist? It's exhausting."

Olivia nodded slowly, taking the spoon from Georgie's hand and grabbing herself a bite. "Okay, let's break this down. You're in love with him, right?"

Georgie shot her a look. "Obviously."

"And you want him to be a part of your life, like, all of it?"

"Yes!"

"Then maybe, the like real issue is timing. Maybe Jamie needs more time to wrap his head around dealing with Joan and Michael. And maybe you need to figure out how to handle them, with or without his help. You guys need to be on the same page about what happens next, Gee."

Olivia always had a way of making things sound much more logical. "I just hate that I've made him feel like he isn't enough. I wasn't trying to, I guess it just came out wrong. He got so mad, Liv. Like more than he does on the ice. He even said he might be avoiding meeting them altogether."

"Yikes. Yeah, that's a tough one. But look, if you're both like serious about each other, you'll figure this out. Let him cool off and then talk about it again. And maybe give him some reassurance that whatever happens isn't a dealbreaker for you."

"You're right, Liv. God, you're like always right. I shouldn't have pusehd him. But like what if the longer I wait, the bigger the gap between him and my parents becomes?"

"You two are going to figure this out. Just give him some space. He'll def reach out when he's ready. That's how your Jimmy is, right?"

"I love you, Livvy."

"I love you more, Gee."

~~

Olivia grabbed her bag from her bedroom, slipping her phone into the front pocket of her jeans. Georgie watched from the couch, still holding her now-empty wine glass.

"You're leaving?" Liv was never one to cut girl talk short, especially after a rant like that one.

Olivia grinned, throwing her bag over her shoulder. "I'm giving you and Jimmy some space. You guys need to talk without me lurking around like a psycho killer. Plus..." she wiggled her eyebrows. "Let's be honest, you probably need the apartment for some make-up sex."

"Liv!"

"Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it. And you two fuck like rabbits. Have been since the first night you met."

Georgie blushed, covering her face with a throw pillow.

"But seriously, talk to him. I'm crashing at Claire's for the night, so you two better be cuddling when I return, got it?"

"Thanks, Livvy. Love you."

"Love you more!" she shouted over her shoulder as she left. "Good luck with Jimbo!"

The apartment fell silent and she sat there for a few minutes, her thumb hovering over Jamie's contact. But before she could click call, the door unlocked, and in walked Jamie. He looked so tired--his hair disheveled, his shoulders tense, but his eyes softened when he saw her on the couch.

"Spare key. Sorry for not knocking, wasn't sure you'd answer if I did," he admitted.

"Hi."

"I'm sorry, Gee. I shouldn't have raised my voice. I just--everything about this situation freaks me the fuck out. I didn't mean to hurt you or push you away."

She shook her head, walking over to him. "No, Jamie. I'm the one who should be sorry. I should never have pushed you like that. I was just too focused on my fear of losing you, and I wasn't thinking about how hard this must be for you. I know what my parents are like, and it's not fair for me to just expect you to be okay with all of it."

Jamie sighed, taking her hands in his. "I get why you want me to meet them, and I get that this is very important to you. But I wasn't ready... I wasn't sure if I could deal with whatever they throw at me. But now..." He paused. "I'm ready, Georgina. I want to do this. For you. Because I love you."

Georgie blinked, stunned. "You... you're ready?"

"Yeah, I thought about it a lot after you left. I don't want to keep pretending like your family doesn't exist. I'm not saying it's gonna be easy, but we'll figure it out. Together."

"Oh my God, Jamie!" she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. "I can't believe this! Are you serious? You're really ready?"

Jamie chuckled, hugging her tightly. "Yes, babe. I am."

She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her hands coming up to cup his face as she kissed him, pouring every ounce of her love into it. He kissed her back, his hands holding her waist like he never wanted to let go.

When they finally pulled away, Georgie rested her forehead against his, her voice soft. "Thank you. I love you so, so much, Jamie."

"I love you too, Georgie," he murmured, his lips brushing hers one last time before he smiled. "Now, how about we head to bed? We've got some cuddling to catch up on."

"You read my mind."

They walked into her bedroom, hand in hand. The weight of the argument had lifted, and for the first time in the last few hours, Georgie felt a strange sense of peace. She stripped down so she was just in Jamie's shirt, before nestling her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. They were going to face things. Together.

~~

Georgie was once again staring at her phone, but this time it wasn't Jamie's contact she was staring at, it was her mom's. She had rehearsed the conversation, but somehow, none the options seemed right. With a deep breath, she clicked dial and held the phone to her ear.

"Georgina, darling! What a lovely surprise," her mother's shrill voice filled her ear.

"Hi, Mom." Georgie tried to keep her tone light, but her nervousness was already making her voice crack. "How are you and Daddy?"

"Oh, we're fine. Just finalizing some details for your father's work gala next month. You know how he gets about these events. What about you, dear? How's school? You must be knee-deep in preparations for next school year."

"Yeah, school's good," Georgie winced, realizing she was in fact stalling. "Actually, I'm calling because... well, I'm coming up to the summer house next weekend, and I'm bringing someone with me."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.

"Bringing someone?" Her mother's voice sharpened. "Who is this someone, Georgina? You've never mentioned anyone before."

"Yeah, well... I've been seeing someone for a while now. He's... my boyfriend."

Her mother laughed, "A boyfriend? Oh, my. And you're only just now telling us?"

Georgie bit her lip, regretting not easing her mother into the conversation. "Yeah, I know. I just... wanted to make sure things were serious before I introduced him to you and Daddy."

"That's exciting news! What's his name?"

"Jamie. His name's Jamie."

"Jamie...?" Her mother's voice trailed off, clearly waiting for more information.

"Jamie Drysdale," she replied, praying her mom wouldn't recognize the name immediately. She wouldn't. She didn't watch sports. But... what if she did?

"Hmm. Drysdale. That's not a last name I know. What does he do, dear? Is he a student as well?"

"He's not in school. He, uh, he works actually." She mentally kicked herself for how stupidly vague she sounded, but she wasn't about to drop the hockey bomb over the phone.

"Works? Doing what, exactly? Is he older? Surely you're not dating a... blue collar boy," she sounded disgusted at the idea.

"No, no. It's, uh, complicated. I'll explain everything when we're there. But he's great, Mom. Really. You and Daddy will love him." Georgie crossed her fingers, praying that she wasn't overselling it.

"Well, I hope so. I trust you've chosen wisely. Your father will be very interested to meet him."

"Yeah, I'm... sure he will."

"We're just surprised, Georgina. You've never kept secrets from us before. But if you're happy, then we're happy for you."

"Thanks, Mom. I really think you'll like him. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before we arrive. We'll take Jamie's car."

"Of course, dear. We'll be expecting you both. Saturday, yes?"

"Yes, Saturday."

"Well, I'll let your father know. He'll be very curious, I'm sure. You know how is about meeting everyone new. We're looking forward to it, Georgina. And this Jamie character--well, we'll just have to see, won't we?"

"Yeah, we'll see."

"Alright, darling. I must let you go, your father needs my help. Be sure to tell Jamie that we're looking forward to meeting him."

"I will. See you next weekend."

"Goodbye, dear. Love you."

"Love you too, Mom."

She hung up and let out a long breath. Well, that certainly went better than expected. But the real test would be the weekend--when her parents found out that their daughter's boyfriend was a professional hockey player.

~~

Jamie could feel Georgie's eyes on him from the passenger seat. She seemed laser-focused on the side of his face, her mind spinning. He had one hand on the wheel, the other on her thigh. She finally took a deep breath and blinked.

"Okay. I guess we should talk about what to expect."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "This is about your parents, huh?"

"Yeah... there are a few things you should know before we get there."

Jamie's hand squeezed her thigh, something he often did to reassure her. "Alright, hit me, baby. What am I walking into?"

"First of all, my dad's name is Michael. He's... intense. He's the CEO of an investment firm--Elwood Capital. Very old money, very... opinionated." She paused. "He values success, status, and manners. So, just like be polite, answer his questions, and don't take anything he says too personally."

"Got it. What about your mom?"

"My mom, Joan, is well... she's a classic socialite. She's all about image and reputation. She love's entertaining, so don't be surprised if she goes all out for our visit. She'll probably ask about your background, family, that kind of thing. She's not as harsh as my dad, but she definitely has 'old-fashioned' views."

"'Old-fashioned' as in..."

"As in they'll probably ask when we're getting married and having kids."

"Seriously?" Jamie blinked in surprise.

"Oh, yeah," Georgie rolled her eyes. "In their world, that's the next step after dating for seven months. They have no concept of 'taking things slow.' Just brace yourself."

"Alright. Noted. So... Michael and Joan. Old money. Probably want grandkids ASAP." He shot her a playful look. "Anything else?"

Georgie winced slightly, knowing the next part would be the hardest for Jamie. "Yeah... one more thing. My parents don't call me 'Georgie.' They think it's a boy's name. So when we're there, you'll need to call me Georgina. I know it's weird, but... it's like one of their 'rules.'"

"I can do that. Georgina it is."

"Thanks, babe," she murmured. "It's just... they have this whole thing about appearances. You'll notice they care a shit ton about manners and stuff. It's like super formal. I've spent my whole life playing the role, and I just--" She trailed off, blinking rapidly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be someone you're not. But I also don't want to give them a reason to be... difficult. More difficult than usual."

"Hey, I get it. I'm not going to pretend this won't be awkward, but I'll handle it. I love you, and I want to be there for you, even if your parents ask me when we're having kids after dinner." He smirked, trying to lighten the mood in the car.

"You're like seriously amazing, you know that?"

"I try," he removed his hand from her thigh, lacing their fingers together.

After a moment of silence, Georgie spoke up again. "Oh, and my brother Brooks will be there too. He's... your typical frat boy."

"Frat boy?"

"Yeah. He's studying finance at Cornell, and he's... like a lot to handle. He's not as formal as my parents are, but he's always trying to prove something. I'm sure he'll grill you about your job or try to make a competition out of nothing."

"Sounds fun," Jamie said dryly.

"Just ignore him. He can be annoying, but he's harmless," she added with a sigh. "He might make a few snide comments, but you don't have to take him seriously. I definitely don't."

"Alright. So, to recap: I'm going to meet Michael the CEO, Joan the socialite, and Brooks the frat boy. I'm going to call you Georgina, use all my manners, and probably dodge some invasive questions about marriage and kids. How am I doing so far?"

"You're doing great. I just... I hope it goes okay. They don't know you're a hockey player yet. I figured we'd save that when we're actually there. One hurdle at a time, right?"

"Yeah... figured that'd come up eventually."

"We'll handle it together, okay? No matter what."

"Yep. Together," he raised their conjoined hands to his mouth and gave them a quick kiss.

Thet were feeling a bit more at ease, but the storm was waiting for them at the summer house.

~~

The summer house was not what Jamie expected. When he thought of a 'summer house' he imagined a cabin or a cottage near the water. Instead he saw a mansion with a sprawling estate, perfectly manicured lawns and tall, pristine windows.

"Ready?" Jamie asked.

"As I'll ever be," she forced a smile. "Just remember... Georgina."

He grinned softly. "I got it. Georgina."

As they stepped out of the car, her parents were already waiting at the entrance, the imposing figure of her father standing next to her elegantly dressed mother. Brooks was lounging on a lawn chair on the porch, sipping what was definitely a whisky on the rocks, his signature smirk already plastered on his face.

"Georgina!" Her mother screeched, arms outstretched in gretting. "It's been too long, darling." She pulled Georgie into a very quick hug before shifting her attention to Jamie. "And this must be Jamie."

Jamie smiled, extending his hand. "Yes, ma'am. It's great to meet you Mrs. Elwood."

"Please, call me Joan," her mother replied smoothly, though the way she was looking at him was nothing short of calculating.

Her father stepped up next, his handshake firm, bodering on intense. "Michael Elwood. Welcome to our home, Jamie." His eyes lingered a little longer than necessary, as if he were also weighing him in his mind.

"Thank you, sir. It's a pleasure to be here," Jamie replied. His tone was just as perfect as Georgie had imagined.

As they moved inside, Georgie felt her brother's eyes on her. He hadn't said a word yet, but the smirk on his face said enough.

"What's up, Georgina," Brooks drawled lazily, making no attempt to get up from his chair. "Long time no see."

"Good to see you too, Brooks."

His eyes shifted to Jamie, his smirk growing... if that was possible. "So, this is the famous boyfriend, huh? Didn't think you'd ever bring someone home. Must be serious."

Georgie shot him a warning glance, but before she could snap back, Joan cut in.

"Brooks, don't be rude," she said, though her tone was more dismissive than it was chastising. "Georgina, darling, let's sit down for some drinks before dinner. Jamie, you must tell me about yourself. We know so little about you."

Jamie nodded, following the family into the living room. The walls were adorned with family portraits and antique furniture, each piece screaming money. Georgie sat beside Jamie on the sofa, her hand slipping into his.

Joan handed out drinks as Michael settled in a large leather armchair.

"So Jamie," Michael began, his tone measured. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from Toronto originally, but I've been in the U.S. for a while now."

"Toronto. Quite a respectable city," he leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on Jamie. "And what is it that brought you to the states?"

Jamie kept his smile, but Georgie felt his hand tighten around hers.

"Work, mostly," Jamie replied smoothly. "Lots of great opportunities here."

"And what line of work are you in?"

Before Jamie could answer, Brooks let out a loud laugh, cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. "You really think Georgina would date a guy who can't afford a place like this?" He gestured around the room. "Relax, Dad. I'm sure Jamie here is doing quite well for himself."

The comment, while rude, gave Jamie time to avoid answering directly. Georgie shot Brooks a glare, but he just smiled right back at her.

"I'm lucky to be in a good position," Jamie replied, dodging the specifics of it.

Joan smiled, "Of course, dear. You seem quite composed." She turned to Georgie. "And how did the two of you meet?"

Georgie hesitated for a split second. The last thing she wanted to say was "at a hockey game," but before she could make up a response, Jamie jumped in.

"Through mutual friends," he said easily. "It was one of those on a whim connections that really just clicked."

~~

Later that evening, the four of them sat around the large dinging table, silverware clinking against china plates. Brook had been relatively quiet at dinner, only making a few snide comments about Georgie bringing someone home after all these years.

"So, Jamie," Joan asked, dabbing her mouth with a napkin, "what are your future plans? Are you thinking of settling down soon?"

Georgie nearly choked on her wine.

Jamie cleared his throat, caught off guard by how quickly the question had come. "We're happy where we are right now. We're taking things step by step."

"Step by step," Michael echoed, his expression unreadable. "Interesting approach."

As the conversation continued, Jamie slipped up, almost reflexively saying, "What do you think, Georgi--" before catching himself. His eyes darted to her father, who looked up quickly.

"What Jamie meant to say was, what do you think, Georgina?"

Her father stared at him a long, agonizing few seconds before nodding. "Right. Georgina."

The room grew uncomfortably silent before Joan stepped in, "Well, it's been a lovely evening, but I think it's time for a nightcap in the sitting room, don't you think?"

~~

Georgie stepped into the extravagant bedroom she'd made hers, flicking on the soft, golden lights. The space was luxurious as ever--thick drapes, an oversized canopy bed, and rich mahogany furniture. She always felt like an outsider in this house, like she playing pretend.

Jamie let out a low whistle, eyeing up the room's decor. "This is... next level, Georgina."

"You don't have to use that name when it's just us," she shuddered.

"I know. But I'm practicing for tomorrow."

"I think we survived today, don't you?" she asked, leaning against the bedpost.

Jamie walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest. "I'd say we did pretty well. Your parents don't seem to hate me, and your dad didn't grill me too hard. I call that a win."

"Yeah, well, it's only day one. Brooks hasn't really gotten started yet, and tomorrow's going to be full of questions."

"We'll handle it. You were great tonight."

"Thanks," she murmured, pulling away from his arms and walking toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna shower. You should get ready for bed too."

Jamie sat on the edge of the massive bed, letting the events of the night replay in his mind. Dinner had gone better than he had expected, but it was still a tightrope act, not saying he wasn't a hockey player but also not saying he was.

Michael seemed like the type of guy who could sniff out weakness from several miles away. And while Jamie had managed to dodge the career question today, it was certain to come up again.

He stood up and pulled off his shirt, slipping into the pajamas Georgie had packed him--way fancier than his usual boxers... or nothing. He chuckled, shaking his head as he looked through the other clothes she'd packed. It looked like he was dressing in his pre-game suit almost everyday.

A few minutes later, Georgie emerged from the bathroom, her wet hair already curling at the ends and her body wrapped in one of Jamie's Flyers shirts she'd stolen months ago. She tossed the towel over a chair and climbed into bed with him, the mattress sinking under her.

"So, how do you think it went?" Jamie asked, trailing his fingers up her arm.

"Honestly?" she turned to face him, resting her head on his chest. "Better than I expected. My parents were... well, they were less intense than usual. And Brooks hasn't been too obnoxious yet, which is a miracle."

"I noticed your dad sizing me up, but he didn't go full interrogation mode. That was a relief."

"Yeah, that's win. I think they're still trying figure you out. But they liked you, I could tell."

Jamie brushed his lips against her temple. "Good. As long as they don't hate me, I'll take it."

Georgie smiled, tilting her head to kiss him. The kiss started sweet, but quickly deepened, her hand sliding into his hair as their bodies pressed together under the plush duvet. Jamie's hands reached down to her ass, squeezing as he pulled her closer.

Just as things were heating up, the door burst open.

"Georgina!" Brooks' voice rang through the room, as loud and annoying as ever. "Oh, shit, sorry! Didn't mean to interrupt your little... thing."

Georgie shot up, pulling away from Jamie who groaned. "Brooks, what the hell? Get out! Have you never head of knocking?"

"Relax, Georgina! I just wanted to see how lover boy here is settling in. Didn't realize you two were... busy. Sorry to interrupt your... bonding time."

Jamie forced a smile, clearly trying to hide his irritation. "Everything's fine, Brooks."

"Good, good. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. Just wanted to say, Jamie, you survived round one. But don't get too comfortable," he chuckled, turning on his heel and leaving.

Georgie fell back on the pillows with a groan. "God, he's fucking insufferable."

Jamie laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Hey, at least he didn't walk in five minutes later."

"That's one way to look at it."

Jamie smirked, pulling her back into his arms. "Now, where were we?"

~~

Georgie and Jamie entered the dining room together, the table already meticulously set. Michael was at the head of the table, his newspaper folded neatly beside him. Joan sat to his right, sipping from an expensive looking teacup, while Brooks lounged in his chair, his breakfast barely touched.

"Good morning, Georgina, Jamie," Joan smiled, gesturing for them to sit down. "Did you sleep well?"

"We did, thank you," Georgie smiled, taking a seat next to Jamie, who was still adjusting to his new surroundings.

"I was just telling your mother," Michael began, folding his hands in front of him, "that I'd like to get to know more about you, Jamie. We didn't get to dig too deeply into your background yesterday."

Georgie internally groaned. Here we go.

Jamie just smiled, reaching for the coffee pot. "Of course, sir. What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with your family." Michael spoke with the tone he used with clients. He was acting like he was conducting a fucking business meeting. "Where do they live? What do they do?"

"My family's still in Toronto. My dad's a construction manager and my mom is a teacher."

"Hmm, working class. Must've been quite the change for you, being in the States then?"

"It was, but I've adjusted."

Brooks snorted into his coffee. "Yeah, sounds like a big shift. Not everyone's used to... this kind of life, right, Jamie?" He waved his hand around the room, clearly enjoying his subtle jab.

"Brooks," Georgie snapped.

"What? I'm just making conversation. I mean, Jamie here's gotta be doing pretty well for himself if he's hanging with us, right?"

"I'm doing alright," Jamie shrugged.

As breakfast continued, Joan took a more pleasant, if not extremely pressuring approach.

"So, Jamie," she began sweetly. "Georgina's father and I were talking last night. And we couldn't help but wonder--you said you're taking things step by step. But you've been together... what was it? 7 months? That's an awful long time to not think about marriage or children."

"Mom!"

"What? I'm just curious," Joan said with a light laugh. "I think it's a fair question. I mean, I'd love a grandbaby or two soon."

Brooks took that as his cue to jump in, "Yeah, I bet you guys have been practicing lots."

Georgie turned bright red. "Brooks, shut up!"

"Brooks, enough," Michael boomed, though he didn't seem like he fully understood the joke. "But your mother's right. You've been together a while now. What's next?"

"We're not rushing into anything, Daddy. We're happy."

"Well, as long as you're happy."

~~

By the time that lunch rolled around, the questions had been relentless. Michael and Brooks had been shooting questions at Jamie, left, right, and centre. As they sat down for another formal meal, Michael decided it was time to be straightforward once more.

"So, Jamie, I've been wondering about your work. You mentioned you came to the States for career opportunities. What exactly do you do?"

Jamie hestitated for a moment, knowing there was no ducking out of this one. He met Georgie's eyes, and she gave him a small nod.

"I'm a professional hockey player."

The room went silent. Brooks' fork clattered onto his plate, while Joan's expression was frozen in a mask of surprise.

"A... hockey player?" Michael asked, it was clear from his tone that he didn't find that nearly as respectable as he'd hoped. "As in... professional sports?"

"Yes, sir. I play for the Philadelphia Flyers."

Joan blinked. "Well, that's certainly... unexpected."

Brooks, on the other hand, couldn't hold back his laughter. "Wait, wait--you're telling me you're a jock?" He slapped the table, howling. "And here I was thinking you were some kinda bigshot investor or something! Georgina's dating a fucking jock! That's gold!"

"Brooks, stop it," Georgina glared.

"And how long do you think this career will last, Jamie? Professional sports aren't exactly known for their longevity, are they?" Michael ignored his son's antics.

"I'm aware it's not a forever career. But I'm building a future for myself beyond playing. I have a strong support system and I'm taking steps to ensure my financial stability."

"Hmm. I suppose that's... something."

Joan smiled tightly. "Well, it's certainly... different. Not exactly what we expected, but if Georgina's happy, then I suppose that's all that matters."

Brooks leaned forward, still chuckling to himself. "Well, this weekend just got a hell of a lot more interesting."

Jamie and Georgina excused themselves to the garden to get some fresh air. But mostly to distance themselves from the judgement inside.

"That went about as well as I expected," Jamie said drly.

"I'm so sorry, Jamie. They're just... like that. I knew they wouldn't get it right away."

"It's fine. I just didn't think it would feel this... awkward."

"They'll come around," Georgie insisted, though she wasn't sure she completely believed it herself.

Jamie nodded, pulling her closer as they walked through the garden. "At least we don't have to hide it anymore."

~~

The door to the office clicked shut behind Georgie. Why her dad needed an office at a house that was meant for relaxing was beyond her, but there she was. Michael sat behind his desk, his gaze laser focused on his daughter. She had known this was coming, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Sit down, Georgina."

She obeyed without a word, sinking into the leather chair opposite him. Her hands rested in her lap, picking at her fingernails as she waited for him to speak.

"I wanted to have this conversation with you privately. I didn't think it was appropriate to discuss in front of your mother or Brooks, but I need to make my concerns about Jamie clear."

Georgie didn't react. She's been taught not to talk back--to listen and absorb everything her parents said, even if it made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Georgina, a professional athlete... it's not the kind of career that provides stability. His schedule alone will keep him away from home most of the time. And if you decide to start a family..." he trailed off. "He won't be there."

Georgie clenched her fists tighter, willing herself to stay composed.

"And then there's the matter of the career itself," he scoffed. "Hockey players... they don't exactly need to be intellectuals. It's a sport, Georgina. It's not a career that requires real intelligence or long-term thinking. What happens when he gets injured? One bad hit, and it's all over. You'll be left with a man who has no real skills to fall back on. Is that really what you want for your future?"

"I want the best for you. I really do. You come from a family that values success, security, and stability. Jamie can't give you that, Georgina. His career could end tomorrow, and then what? You'll be left to pick up the pieces?"

Everything in her life was supposed to fit into a neat, respectable box. And she'd broken that. She knew that her father expected her to agree, to nod and promise to reconsider, to make the "right" choice. But she couldn't. And she wouldn't.

For the first time since sitting down, she met his eyes. "I love him, Daddy."

Michael leaned forward, letting out a slow breath. "Love is important, Georgina, but it's not enough. You're thinking with your heart, not your head. I'm trying to make sure you understand what you're getting yourself into."

Her hands were trembling in her lap. She didn't want to argue with him. She didn't try to defend Jamie or explain why they worked. Because she knew it wouldn't matter to him. Her father had already made up his mind.

Instead, she repeated herself. "I love him."

"You're an adult now, Georgina. I can't stop you from making your own decisions." His tone was cold, distant. "But I hope you understand the risks that you're taking."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all."

Without another word, Georgie exited the office, her heart beating like a drum. Her whole body felt heavy and all she wanted to do was run to her room and scream into a pillow until she felt normal again. But first she had to find Jamie.

~~

At the same time Georgie was talking with her dad, Jamie was talking with Brooks. But rather than an office, they were sat in the living room. Brooks had his feet kicked up on the couch like he owned the place. Jamie was trying to embrace the silence, but Brooks wasn't the type for that.

"So, Jamie," his voice dripped with condescension, "let me get this straight--you play hockey for a living?"

Jamie, who had been scrolling through Instagram, glanced up. "Yeah. I play for the Flyers."

"Right. The Flyers. And how long do you think that's going to last?" He chuckled, clearly amused with his own question. "I mean, sports careers aren't exactly... permanent, are they? A couple bad hits, a bad knee, and boom--you're done."

Jamie set his phone down. He'd expected some grilling from Brooks, but his smug attitude was starting to grate on him. "Yeah, I'm aware it's not forever. But I've been smart about it. I'm planning for a life after hockey."

"Right. Cause I'm sure you have time for that while you're chasing pucks around the ice. Tell me, Jamie, what happens when it's all over? When your fifteen minutes are up? You think you're gonna be some big shot, or are you going to be a washed-up athlete, living off whatever's left in your savings? What's the plan when my sister leaves you because you've got nothing left to give?"

"I'm not worried about that, Brooks."

"Oh, sure you aren't. What's the backup plan? When hockey's done, what're you gonna do? Coach some peewee league? Work at a sports bar? Or just ride Georgina's coattails?"

Jamie's hands balled into fists. Brooks was making it personal now, but Jamie refused to let him get under his skin. "I'm not planning to fail, Brooks. I've worked hard to get where I am, and I'm doing everything I can to make sure I'm set for the future. I don't need a backup plan because I'm building my future now."

"You know, I don't get it. What does my sister see in you? Sure, you've got the whole 'athlete' thing going for you, but... what else? What happens when the fame fades and the money's not rolling in? You think you're going to be able to keep up with Georgina's lifestyle."

"Georgie and I don't live your lifestyle. We have our own."

"Right. Your own. You do realize the kind of family you're dealing with, right? My parents aren't just rich--they're legacy. This whole life, this world, is built on families like ours. And you? You're just some guy who got lucky with a stick and puck. Got even luckier when a rich girl fell for your whole 'pretty boy' act. You think you're gonna hold up under that kind of pressure?"

"I'm not here for approval, Brooks. I love Georgie and she loves me. That's all that matters."

"Good luck with that, Jamie," he laughed. "Because love doesn't pay the bills."

~~

Georgie sat next to the bath, running her hand under the water to find the perfect temperature to wash away the day. The door clicked and in walked Jamie, his expression tight.

"Hey," she whispered, turning to look up at him. "I was thinking... maybe we could take a bath? Just... relax for a bit."

"A bath?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "This place is fancy, might as well use it. Plus... we could both use a break from the outside world, don't you think?"

Jamie smiled softly, "Alright, a bath it is."

They undressed in a comfortable silence, the day's stress already fading away with the steam rising from the tub. Jamie slid in first, leaning back against the curved edge of the tub. Once he was settled, Georgie climed in and rested her back against his chest. Jamie closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the tub, while Georgie played with his hand, the tension draining from his body.

"Brooks have you a hard time, didn't he?"

"Yeah, you could say that. He pretty much tore into me, picking every piece of me apart." He rested his other hand on his knee, not opening his eyes as he spoke. "He was throwing every insult he could think of. Basically said I'm a jock with no future and that I'm only with you because of your family's money."

"I'm sorry, Jamie. Brooks doesn't know when to stop. He's... he's such an asshole."

Jamie shook his head, "It's not your fault. I knew it wouldn't be easy with him, or dad for that matter."

"Speaking of my dad... we had a conversation too."

"What did he say?"

"He told me that he's worried. That you're not... stable. That your career could end at any moment, and he doesn't think it's a smart choice for me to be with you."

Jamie's jaw tightened. "So he thinks I'm a temporary thing?"

"It's more than that," she replied, tracing patterns on the surface of the water. "He doesn't think being a hockey player requires intelligence. He kept saying you don't have 'real skills' and asked what would happen if you get injured. He was so... dismissive."

"I'm not going to say I'm surprised. Your dad made it pretty fucking clear he doesn't think much of me. He didn't have to say it outright."

"I hated it. I sat there and let him pick you apart like you're some kind of... I don't know, risk? But all I could tell him was that I love you. That was all I could say."

"That's enough, Gee. You don't need to justify anything to them. I know it's hard, but we're on the same page, and we'll get through it."

"I just wish they could see you the way I do."

"Maybe they will," he brought his hand up to rub her shoulders. "Maybe they won't. But I'm not going anywhere, no matter what they think."

"I'm so lucky to have you," she leaned into his touch.

"I think I'm the lucky one."

Gee turned around, sloshing water onto the floor in the process, but she didn't care. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him. For a while they just sat there, enjoying each other's company, stealing the occasional kiss. As long as they had each other, they could survive anything.

~~

Tension radiated from Jamie, his posture rigid. He'd barely touched the soup that had been placed in front of him. Georgie had only looked at her food, her stomach much to upset to eat. She was hyper-aware of the silence that fell whenever Jamie answered someone's question or when Brooks threw in an unnecessary comment.

"You know," Brooks said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I never realized my sister had such low standards. I mean, a hockey player? I guess you've got one hell of a personality, because you sure don't have much else going for you."

Jamie's jaw clenched for the thousandth time that day, his eyes darting to Georgie, waiting for her to speak. But she couldn't. She couldn't form any words. Her parents exchanged uncomfortable looks, but neither made a move to stop him. It was if they were waiting to see how it played out, complicit in his cruel jokes.

Brooks wasn't done. "I mean, come on, Georgina. You could do better. Or are you so easy you'll settle for someone this fucking pathetic?"

Something inside Georgie snapped.

Her hands slammed on the table, silverware rattling. "That's enough, Brooks!" Her voice was filled with a fury she'd never let show in front of her family. Her whole body trembled as the words spilled out before she could stop herself.

"How dare you talk about Jamie like that? You have no idea who is, what he's accomplished. He's a thousand times the person you'll ever be, and I'm tired of pretending like I'm okay with your constant insults and fucking disrespect!"

She turned to her parents.

"And you two! You sit there and let him say these horrible things! You act like it's fine because it's Brooks, and that's what he does. But it's not fine! None of this is fine!"

Jamie reached for her hand under the table, but she pulled away, standing up. "Jamie is the love of my life! Do you hear me? I'm going to marry him someday! And I don't care what any of you have to say about it!"

Her mother gasped, raising a hand to her heart. Her father's face grew stony, clearly disapproving of her outburst. But Georgie didn't care what they thought. She was far beyond the the point of caring.

"You don't get to judge him! You don't get to make me feel ashamed for loving him, and you don't decide who I'm 'supposed' to be with. Jamie and I are building a life together! If you can't deal with that, you won't be seeing me ever again. I'm done. With the insults, with the judgement. Fucking all of it!"

"Let's go," she whispered to Jamie, taking his hand in hers as they exited the dining room.

"Georgina--"

"No," she interrupted her father, "I said what I needed to say. If you can't accept Jamie, then you can't have me in your lives."

With that, she and Jamie left the room, the slam of the door sending shockwaves through the whole room.

~~

Georgie and Jamie left the grand house behind them, still walking hand in hand. Neither of them had spoken since they packed their things and walked out--there was too much to process, too much had just happened at once. They didn't speak until they reached the car when Jamie broke the silence.

"You okay?" he asked, turning to face her.

Georgie sighed, leaning against the car. "I don't know," she admitted. "I mean yes... I'm okay. But I just... can't believe I actually just did that. I've never stood up to them like that before."

"You were amazing in there, Georgie. You didn't just stand up to them... you like stood up for us. For me."

Georgie leaned her head on his chest. "I couldn't listen to it anymore. My dad, Brooks... all the judgement. I just snapped. But I meant every word of it, Jamie. I meant it when I said I'm going to marry you one day."

Jamie's eyes widened. He knew how serious they were about each other, but hearing her say it, especially under such emotional circumstances, made him feel a way he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

"You know... we don't have to wait."

"What do you mean?" she pulled away from his chest, blinking rapidly.

"I mean, we don't have to wait for 'someday.' I don't have a ring right now, but this isn't some grand proposal... but I love you, Georgie. And after the weekend we've been through... I don't want to wait. Let's do it. Let's get married."

Georgie couldn't believe her ears. It wasn't the proposal she'd dreamed of growing up--not a fancy dinner, not on exotic vacation, and with no ring. It was so unbelievably Jamie. And none of that mattered. What mattered was him. What mattered was them, together.

"Are you serious?" she whispered.

"Completly serious. I know it's not traditional in any sense of the word, but we can figure out the details later. You're it for me, Georgie. You're the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love you. Let's start the rest of our lives. No more waiting."

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and she laughed her way through them. "Oh my God, Jamie. Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

Jamie pulled her into a kiss, holding her close. It wasn't the picture perfect proposal. It wasn't grand or over-the-top. But it was real. It was them.

When they finally pulled apart, Georgie wiped at her eyes. "I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"We are. Together, no matte what. Your family might come around one day, maybe they won't. But it doesn't matter, Georgie. I promise you that."

"I know. And I don't care what happens with them right now. All I know is that I need to be with you."

"Then it's settled. We're getting married. Me and you."

"You and me."

They stood there for a few more minutes, just wrapped in each other's arms. There were still so many things they had to figure out--but for now, none of that mattered. All that mattered is that they had each other. And they were ready to take on the world.

[yoinkschief]

I did it - I finally did it, I made concept doodles of the different leaders

I've been meaning to do this for a while now, I've just kept forgetting to and then get distracted with much more pressing matters n shit so yk but I decided fuck it they don't need to be good so long as they just get my idea across,,, and then later on when I have the time, energy and patience to I can fully render them

These are all also leaning into who they are in my HCs, simply because I think it's kinda boring to just go "well what if we put person a in person b's body and keep everything else the exact same" like where's the nuance in that,,,

So all the same story beats still happen, just minor differences, like Tord still leaves and has the robot explode causing the damage (but different contexts now) and Tom is still possessed by the rage demon or whateva and Edd still gets powers and Matt still becomes a vampire,, they just are put in different plot points in the story

I don't like the idea of just reskinning characters, yk, if I were to change story beats for things like "instead of matt getting bitten by the vampire bite it was tord" I wouldn't want it to just be the same shit happens because Tord wouldn't react the same way to it as Matt would, yk ?? I don't wanna give the character's the others personalities, just their plot beats

But in this things stay relatively the same

Except in this Tom, in a desperation to live after failing to dismantle Tord's robot in an act of rage against Tord returning and pretending like nothing happened, makes a deal with his more demonic half and gives up part of his soul to live

Edd gets blown up trying to use Tord's robot against Tord's wishes and something something main characters can't die or whatever so he painfully finds out that his "poweredd" powers grant him a very fucked up version of immortality,,, I made it look goopy because I can and I'm madly in love with my partner and they've given me this idea so fuck them blame them if you want

Matt gets no lasting consequences for his actions because he's a vampire and they have MAD regenerative abilities, but he does still blow up but this time when him and Edd are fucking around in Tord's little office ?? whatever the hell it is he has stuffed in his room as a secondary room, yk when him and Edd are touching all those buttons they're not supposed to, that's what caused the robot to malfunction and Matt ends up getting the brunt of it - I mean so does Edd, and since this would be Tom's world that would probably why Matt and Edd's relationship grows sour since Edd got caught up in the blast too n whatnot I dunno I'm mostly spitballing here I haven't sat down and properly thought out these AUs yet so yk

take all of this with a grain of salt this is ALLLL subject to change in the future but for now this is what I have in my head for everything :p

[lemotmo]

I'm so tired for all of you who get questions like this everyday. But this is a good response to a question this person probably didn't want the actual answer to if I'm being honest. You all have to be so tired.

Q. I just think it's odd that you, and lots of other people, seem to be so sure of what is happening when we don't really have any indication from Ryan, Oliver, Tim or anyone really that it's going that way at all. Eddie is planning to move to Texas. Moving away is the big change that Ryan is talking about for Eddie. And Ryan flat out said he's not going to encourage people to believe something that's not happening. I'm not making that up??

A. I have a question for you that I think I already know the answer to but I'm going to ask it anyway. Were you around while the show was on Fox? Because Tim and the others involved in the decision making, mainly Kristen, had zero problem telling everyone that both Buck and Eddie were just straight and that people should stick to fanfiction if they wanted to see them as anything else. Kristen said Buck and Taylor were endgame as often as she could. These are not people who have ever been afraid to tell us it's not happening. Tim would, as politely as possible, tell us in interview after interview that they knew the audience shipped them but there weren't any plans to go down that road. And now these people are doing everything they can to avoid giving a direct answer to those very same questions. Also Buck is bisexual now therefore not in fact straight. The shooting arc was originally supposed to end with Buddie canon before Fox axed that storyline. Fox said no and they followed orders. If this wasn't true Tim would have corrected that narrative by now. Too many people, some supposedly involved with the show, have made the claim repeatedly now. Tim has defunct plenty of things. He reads and sees all of it. He would have corrected that narrative if it was false. Moving to ABC completely changed the landscape. It gave him the freedom to tell the story his way. They went from a network that really wouldn't allow Oliver and Ryan to even talk about them, basically wouldn't allow Ryan to talk at all (I'm not exaggerating Fox gave us absolutely nothing), to a network that appears to have fully embraced the idea of them. We're not making that up.

Do we have definitive proof? No. We do have the show though. We have the very clear narrative that the show has been telling since 7x4. The show making a point of having Buck and and Eddie's storylines run concurrently with one another, in the same episodes even, was intentional and very much the point. Their storylines are connected. The show has not made that difficult to see. People on Twitter distorting the point of those episodes doesn't change the point of those episodes. People on Twitter allowing people to rage bait them into believing the most ridiculous nonsense doesn't make that nonsense true. We also have the PR campaign that ABC is running for the show, and it's entirely centered around Buddie. No one else on the show is getting the focus they're getting, and you can't argue that is false because where is the stuff for literally anyone else? Even if you remove the Family Feud episode because it involved other actors, that still leaves all season 7 episodes being promoted and teased using Buddie content, the Instagram posts, Oliver playing in the NBA celebrity all star game, all the interviews that Oliver and Ryan have had, the Ryan photoshoots, the pop culture jeopardy question (this was legitimately a very big deal), even the very intentional New Year's Instagram post. These are not things that happen by accident. Angela and Peter are technically the leads, normally they would be getting this attention. Jennifer is a bigger name, it would make sense for ABC to learn into that but they're not. Their focus is on Buddie. You cannot pretend that's not happening.

Yes Eddie planning to move to Texas is absolutely part of the 'big changes' Ryan was talking about. And I'm not going to break down that interview with you because it's readily available for everyone to read, but if you read that interview in its entirety, especially the stuff he said about Eddie, and all you came away with was 'Eddie's moving to Texas and Ryan said he's not going to encourage people to believe something that's not happening' then you didn't read the interview at all, or you're Intentionally misunderstanding, because that's not at all what he said. Interviews are meant to tease upcoming storylines. They're not meant to act as spoilers. This isn't revolutionary news. Why do people act like they've never seen or read an interview before every time a new one comes out? They cannot tell us where it's going. His Buddie answer was all over the place. He didn't answer the question at all. It was not a hard to just say 'I see them as life long best friends. I see them as always being a part of each other's lives, they will always be family and they absolutely love one another but I don't see it as romantic love'. That's literally all he had to say. That was the question he was asked. And he wouldn't be forbidden from saying that. There's a reason why he and Oliver and Tim all dance around the question. They can't tell us the answer yet. I'm tired of trying to talk people out of being miserable doomers. If you want to hate everything all the time regardless of what the context surrounding it is then that's your problem. I frankly don't have the emotional bandwidth or patience to play the mental gymnastics you people have to perform every single day to force a negative narrative onto absolutely everything related to them. How are you not exhausted by yourselves? So many of us have answered ask after ask, made post after post offering up example after example, CANON EXAMPLES, to back up what we're saying and every single time you all come back to re argue the very same things we just took the time to explain. You're clearly not interested in actually having anything explained to you. You're clearly not interested in acknowledging what the show is actually very clearly telling us. You very clearly don't want anything other than to be negative. So go be negative together and leave the rest of us alone. We cannot help you see and acknowledge what you're intentionally making yourselves miss.

Thanks Nonny! Much appreciated.

Pffff, so immensely tired of these kinds of questions. I've had my fair share of them and I did answer a few the last couple of days, but I can't do it anymore. I won't.

The FOX era was tough y'all. I need all of you to fully grasp this. We had these insane scenes that were so incredibly romantically coded, but that never lead to anything concrete. We lived from Buddie scene to Buddie scene and in some seasons those were few and far between.

They went from relationship to relationship, but they still had more chemistry between each other than they ever had with their love interests. It was fun shipping them. The fanfics and fanart were stunning and the loooong meta was amazing. But I never really truly believed they would ever happen. I hoped of course, but only 1% of me believed it could ever happen. By the end of season 6 I had lost all hope.

But then they moved to ABC and season 7 pulled out all the Buddie stops. Look at us now. Today I'm 100% a believer. We are close now. Stop trying to kill our buzz. We are happy. We deserve this. Leave us be.

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

The wedding day

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Fluff

Summary: The day has arrived for you to marry the love of your life after your presence at Kamar Taj had changed him for the better.

A/N: Hi all, I'm here to maybe post some more of my favourite old fics (If you want me to). I haven't tagged anyone as I've lost my tag list. Sorry.

It was hard not to think about everything the two of you had been through on such a day. Your heart was racing in the best way possible, and your tummy was filled with an endless supply of butterflies. The buzz in the air was electric, and it just made you want to fast forward time, made you want to skip ahead so you could just stand before him already and be his. Be his wife.

But you had to wait. And that was okay, because you knew by the end of the day, you would be his wife. You would be Mrs Strange. And that would absolutely be worth the wait.

You were alone in your dressing room, far too jittery to have a conversation with anyone at that point. You had always been like that. Shy, reserved, and mostly innocent. Sometimes you considered it to be a flaw, but you grew to realise that some just found it endearing.

Stephen didn’t at first. At least he pretended like he didn’t.

You smiled at the thought of him, eyeing the twinkle in your gaze in the mirror. He was going to be all yours soon. And you were going to be all his. You truly couldn’t wait, and you wondered what he was up to, if he was just as nervous as you were.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but reminisce. Your first kiss, your first date, your first time. There was so much to think about. One thing that really stuck out at that point was the first time he had ever laid eyes on you…

To say you were a nervous wreck was an understatement. There was so much that could go wrong, and all you wanted to do was impress and do a good job. But the look on his face was far too menacing for you to calm down.

Stephen looked at you with what you could only describe as a glare. Was he mad at you? If so, you weren’t quite sure what you had done to garner that reaction. You couldn’t deny that he was handsome. He was older, and had a sophisticated edge to him that guys your age just didn’t have.

“Are you sure you’re meant to be here?” he asked you, right in the middle of your first day of training – after a blunt, hasty introduction.

You stared at him, not saying anything at first. Was he talking to you?

“Well?” he snapped. “Are you sure you’re meant to be here?”

“Oh, um, yes,” you nodded, feeling your face grow hot. “I’m meant to be here.”

“You don’t seem like you’ll be prepared for what’s supposed to happen today.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frowned.

“You’re all wide eyes,” he shrugged casually. “Like a deer caught in headlights. You seem scared.”

“I’m not,” you tried not to pout. You were scared, but you didn’t want him to know that. “You don’t even know me. You’re being really rude to someone you just met, you know?”

Stephen didn’t even hide his scoff. “Just stay out of my way while I’m here, okay?”

With that, he spun on his heels and walked away from you with quick, confident strides. You stood there, mouth open, trying to comprehend what had just happened. All you knew was that you were going to listen to him, because you very much intended to stay away from him.

You couldn’t help but laugh as the memory filled up your mind. Stephen had been rude. There was no denying it. But he had surprisingly warmed up to you quickly after that…

Sometimes you liked nothing more than sitting on your own – especially after training. It was a good chance to think about how it had gone: what you were happy with, what you needed to improve on.

And just as you were about to get lost in your thoughts, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You looked over your shoulder and spotted Stephen staring down at you.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice a little shy. You still weren’t all that used to Stephen. And his presence was especially intimidating to someone as shy and quiet as you.

“You were good today,” he said lowly.

You blushed instantly. You had known Stephen for just over a month now, and that was the first time he had ever given you a compliment.

“Really?” you asked.

“Really,” he nodded slowly. “Nice job.”

“You were really good too. You should be proud. I’ve honestly been learning a lot by just looking at you.”

Stephen stared at you for a moment. Like he wasn’t quite sure how to react to that. He mumbled something to himself – something you couldn’t hear. And with that, he walked away. It was a simple conversation. But it was enough to make you let out a happy sigh.

As you came back to reality you bit into your bottom lip. Stephen had been so cold towards you at first, but when he had softened just slightly, just for a moment, you knew there was a whole different side to him… And that was something you discovered not too long after that moment…

You were just about to head off to dinner when you saw him.

Stephen was leaning up against a wall, his eyes all dark. Until they landed on you. You could have sworn you saw a hint of light in them as he looked at you. You blushed and found the courage to give him a wave, and that was when he sent you a nod. And a smile.

A small gesture to some, but to you, it meant Stephen was changing.

It was the next morning when you saw the biggest change, though. It was once again a small gesture, but it was a gesture that made your heart flutter. You and Stephen were both headed towards the same door, and you wondered who would go first. For a second you considered slowing down and letting Stephen just go. And he did get to the door before you.

But then he waited.

Waited for you to approach him.

And then he held open the door for you, allowing you to enter first.

“After you,” he murmured, his eyes stuck on yours.

“Thank you,” you squeaked, brushing past him with a racing heart. Your skin was bright red and you prayed he couldn’t tell. “You’re so polite.”

He chuckled lowly at your compliment.

You didn’t get to see him for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until later, when you were sitting by yourself, lost in your thoughts, that you met his gaze. He sat next to you without asking, but you didn’t mind. Despite how you two first met and how he had treated you, you had still grown to like him more than you should have.

“You seem to be getting better and better every day with your training,” he told you.

“I like to think so,” you smiled at him.

He just stared at you for a while, his eyes never leaving your smile, like he saw something only he could see. Butterflies filled your tummy and you cleared your throat. The noise seemed to bring Stephen out of his daze.

“I was wondering if I could ask you something, Y/N,” he said a little seriously.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!”

He smiled at you before looking down at his lap for a second. Like he was nervous. That was odd, because he almost always seemed so confident, so sure of himself.

“I was wondering… I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me,” he finally said.

“Dinner?” you repeated, tilting your head at him. “Do you mean like…”

“A date? Yes… Yes, I do mean a date.”

It took you just a second to nod at him, the smile on your face quickly growing. You weren’t expecting that at all, but it was something you had fantasised about. You were over the moon that Stephen looked at you in that way.

“I’d love that. Really,” you whispered.

Stephen seemed to let out a shaky breath at that, like he was anticipating a negative response from you. “Is tonight okay? Maybe around seven.”

“Tonight is perfect.”

Coming back to reality, you thought about how sweet Stephen was when he was nervous. And he wasn’t nervous very often. But around you? Around you he changed. He could talk to anybody else and be outspoken and confident. But that encounter showed you a different side of Stephen. A softer side. One you wanted to see more of, and you had that night…

“You look beautiful,” was the first thing Stephen said to you.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and blushed. “Thanks. You too.”

“Are you ready for tonight? I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“I’m ready. And I’ve been excited about it too. I’m honestly a little shocked that you asked me… I thought you didn’t like me,” you told him with a soft laugh.

“I admit I judged you the first time I saw you. I suppose I didn’t know how to react to you. But… But you’re so kind. So welcoming. So sweet. I see that all so clearly now. I’m just sad I didn’t see it sooner, because I think being around you has certainly changed me,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke.

And you couldn’t help yourself when you leaned forward; giving him a soft, slow, sweet kiss. You were just aching for him, and he was right there, looking so handsome all dressed up. It was a dream come true to feel him up against you, his hands on your waist as he kissed you back.

“Don’t be sad,” you murmured against his lips. “I’m here now with you. And you’re here with me. That’s all that matters.”

You could have cried thinking about that moment. But there was no time. There was a knock on the door, and you spotted a bridesmaid waving at you. It was time to go.

You sucked in a sharp breath, nerves taking over as you made your way to the main part of the church. It was a big rush there with people chattering away, but soon, the double doors to the ceremony room opened up. Your bridesmaids moved in first, and then it was your turn.

With one last deep breath, you took your first step towards him. Stephen stood at the end of the aisle with his hands clasped together and his eyes stuck on you. Even from where you were standing you could see him let out a shaky breath. You moved slowly, the pink bouquet in your hands, not stopping until you stood before him. The second you handed your flowers to your maid of honour you felt Stephen’s hands on yours. He held them tight, his thumbs rubbing at your skin as he looked on at you with tear filled eyes. The sight of him made your own eyes water.

“I love you,” he whispered so lowly that only you could hear. “And I promise that I will love you for the rest of my life.”

Your world stopped at that moment, but in the best way possible. Everything seemed to freeze as you captured the scene before you: the smile on Stephen’s face, his kind eyes, the way his cheeks flushed that little bit of red. Your heart skipped a beat and you fought the urge to kiss him.

He had changed so much for you, and you knew it was for the better. Because he was yours and you were his, and it was the most special thing in the world to you.

“And I love you,” you said with a teary smile. Despite the large crowd, Stephen was the only one you could focus on, and he would be all you would focus on for the rest of your life.

You were more than happy with that fact.

[yooglefics]

The casual type: 04 . The plans change

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 4,832 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ???. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. Fluff for cute friends. Summary:  ( Series ) • Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However, no one really expected things to end the way they did. ( Ep. 04 ) • The night wasn't supposed to go like this, but there's nothing to complain about. Well, maybe a little. Warnings under read more.

Warnings ( for this ep ): The squad being annoying ( I <3 them ). Pet names ( princess , baby , doll ). Flirting. Making out. Grinding. Fingering. ( wash your hands, folks ). Yoongi's hands should be a warning. 1,1714 words of just smut and I literally don’t know how that happened lol. Author's note: The plans for this chapter also changed a lot because I only had like three notes for it lmao. Nevertheless, I'm excited to share it with all of you, thank you for sticking around and I hope you like this ep. Remember to leave a comment, send an ask, with your thoughts and also maybe reblog, and what not. As always, thank you for reading! <3

“No, the thing is, she doesn't want to share space. That's why,” Jimin accuses you from his position on the couch. Not being good at sharing himself since his whole body is on it.

“That's not true! I just don't want to be around sweaty boys.” 

“As if you don't sweat,” Jungkook argues.

“I don't.”

“She doesn't, she is a princess,” Is Yoongi's turn to pick on you. He called you that before at the club but this time surprises you since is in front of your friends and your relationship with each other has changed. And actually, you're supposed to be keeping that a secret from them.

“I love how she didn't argue that one,” says Jimin, chuckling.

“Because I am, duh.” You do an exaggerated flip of your ponytail while turning around, carrying another box of kitchenware to put away.

The guys finally decided to rent a house all together, and to make up for the fact that you refused to leave your dorm and follow them, you offered to help organize and decorate because, at the end of everything, you'd probably be spending a lot of time here. 

“You should have moved in with us,” You hear Hobi tell Yoongi after bringing more boxes inside the house. “Did you find a place?” 

“Yes, one of my classmates and his roommates were looking for someone. Is not too far away from here, actually.”

“That's cool. You guys can come over whenever.”

“You should come to the party tonight!” Taehyung says excitedly.

“Tonight?!” You walk out of the kitchen, a couple of glasses in your hands. “You're not even done downloading the truck. Jimin is not even moving!”

“I withdraw my offer for you to move in with us,” says your friend. “She is more like an evil step-sister,” he murmurs to Yoongi and he laughs along with everyone else.

“I hate you all.” 

Storming back into the kitchen, you decide to focus on putting everything away. Not a single thing that can be broken in sight of future drunk guests, that's why you are struggling to put mugs on cupboards you can barely reach.

“Do you need help, princess?” 

The nickname makes you almost drop Tae's last birthday present, and Yoongi is right there to catch you both. “Careful,” he says.

“Is your fault.”

“Did I scare you?” he chuckles, “Sorry.”

“You keep scaring me when you call me that,” you whisper.

“What? You don't like it?” Confused look on his face when he turns to you after putting the mug in place.

“I–why do you call me that?”

“Because sometimes you get kinda grumpy and you're cute, like a princess.”

It makes you smile, and it matches the one on his face.

“I'm going to ignore the fact that you called me grumpy,” you pretend to be upset about it, scrunching up your lips in fake dislike.

“Yeah, focus on the fact that you're cute.” you blush and he uses the excuse of grabbing another mug to get closer, making it so if you lean in a little you could steal a peck. 

But you still aren't sure about how the whole friends with benefits thing works. Nor confident enough to make a decision before Jungkook announces through the house: “the truck is empty, told you we could do it!”

And soon enough Yoongi is out of the room, helping move boxes here and there, and after everything that doesn't belong in the living room is out of it, he finally sits with you and Jimin on the sofa, you in the middle of the two.

“Are you really having a party today?” Yoongi asks.

“Of course! We have to baptize the place.”

“That sounds gross.” You say, noise scrunched.

“You're gross. That's not very princess-y of you,” says Jimin and Yoongi laughs.

“I feel gross, I'm going home to change. Do you want me to give you a ride to the dorms?”

“Yes, please!” 

You have thought about going alone, but after your failed kiss in the kitchen you wanted at least some time alone, and a car drive should be just enough. 

Or perhaps not. 

Because Yoongi drops you at your dorm and goes home to change, refusing to get close to you when he is all sweaty. 

You hit send with one hand and with the other make sure your door is open before sitting once again on the bed, grabbing your mirror and eyeliner to continue your routine.

“Hello?” He knocks a few times and you tell him to come in, all concentration on the task at hand. And that gives him time to look around a little, taking in your space. 

Is a large room, just looking a bit cramped thanks to the big pieces of furniture ( two beds, two dressers, and two desks ) but your method of putting everything against the walls definitely helps. That, and the fact that your roommate hasn't moved in yet. “Now I understand why you didn't want to move in with them. You have a room all for yourself?”

You laugh, “Their office was gonna be my room, actually. And no, this year I'm supposed to share it.”

“You didn't last year?”

“At the beginning I did. But then she paired with someone else.” You shrug, not sure about the details since you've only known her for a couple of weeks. “But it's not as cool as everyone thinks, sometimes it gets lonely, mostly on exam weeks when everyone is busy studying.”

“Well, you can invite me anytime.” He only partially jokes.

“Deal. But you've to bring snacks.” 

“Deal.”

Yoongi sits on your bed while waiting, scrolling on his phone and every now and then looking up to watch you apply the rest of your makeup, then perfume and pick a jacket, until you are standing in front of him with a smile as you announce you're ready. 

“That was faster than I thought,” he says, standing up. “Your eyes do look cute with the sparkle eyeshadow. Bogum was right.” 

“Oh, don't remember me that. I think that's the last time he is going to talk to me,” a sigh follows the exaggeration. 

“If he is really interested he is going to try again.”

“And if he is not?”

“Then he's not worth it.” The confidence in his voice is as contagious as his smile, and you match it.

For a second you wonder if it should be weird to talk about this with the guy you made out with just yesterday. If this is just normal encouragement because you are becoming friends or do all friends with benefits have this type of conversation?. Either way, you are glad to have someone to talk to about your little crush, and so, decide to not give it too much thought if Yoongi doesn't seem to do it either.

When he first asked you about it on Wednesday it was out of curiosity and you returned the phrase about the cat's tragic ending, receiving a “Well, I guess we are confidants now, kitten.”

You gave him a rundown of the situation and confessed about having a little bit of hope for his now teammate to invite you out again. He wished you the best and told you to let him know if something does happen because, according to him, Bo doesn't seem like the guy to be into sharing, and so, Yoongi doesn't want to be in the way.

“Maybe you should talk to him tonight. He is going, isn't he?”

“Uh, not sure. I asked Kook but I don't think he saw my text.” you turn to grab your phone and check.

But before you can open the app, Yoongi grabs your shoulders and guides you out the door, “Or we can just drive there and see.” 

You're surprised to see the motorcycle in the parking lot, thinking it had been just a thing of last week since you haven't seen him use it since then. You even wondered if it was his in the first place.

“What? Are you scared now?��� He teases when you don't take the helmet he is holding in your direction. Just standing there without any movement. “You know I'm a good driver.”

“Yeah, I just… didn't expect it.”

He laughs at your genuine shock before explaining, “I always take it to parties because it's easier to find parking and get out of there whenever I want to.” 

“And I'm sure girls love it, too.”

“That's a plus,” He nods with a smirk, “but don't worry, baby, I’m not making you share tonight.”

“Shut up,” with your nose scrunched for good measure, you finally take the helmet from him. But instead of grabbing his own and getting ready, he gets closer to you, brushing your fingers with his when you're going to secure it and doing it for you instead.

“You tell me that a lot, you know.”

“You talk too much,” you defend, “it's your own fault.”

“Or… you just want to kiss me.”

Glad your smile is hidden by the helmet,  you push him a bit as you answer, "Actually, shut up.”

He laughs, and then goes on to put on and secure his helmet before claiming on the motorcycle and waiting for you. 

The shock about the vehicle wasn't only pure confusion, it was also the realization that your outfit was probably not the best choice. The fabric of your skirt was flowier than the one you used last time, and you aren't sure it would do well at a fast speed.

“Don't go too fast,” you ask him, hands on his shoulders to help you get on and sit behind him.

“I don't get that a lot,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes still fussing with your clothes. “You ready?” he waits for your signal before revving up the engine. 

He drives faster than last time. Or maybe you're just sober and more scared about it all. Your legs tighten on his sides, and your arms around his middle, all the while telling yourself is only to protect the wind from stealing your dignity. When he stops, you have to open your eyes to realize it is because of a red light and your body relaxes. 

Left hand leaves the throttle and goes to your tight, closer to your knee, the coldness of his fingers makes you jump and you feel him chuckle before caressing your skin. “You okay?” he asks loud enough to be heard through the street noises and your covered ears. You nod between his shoulder blades, even if your heart is racing. 

Remembering you had felt your phone ringing in your jacket pocket indicating a few texts, you figure there's enough time to check them before the light changes.

You show Yoongi and he gives you a thumbs down, making you laugh. Oh, well. Maybe it just wasn't made to be.

Thinking he would just drive you back to your dorm, you're surprised when he doesn't take the next turn back — is he driving to another party?

The answer comes only when he takes a turn before entering the highway. Right to the top of The Hill. Every teenager destination to run away from their problems. Every horny couple with a low budget looking for privacy, which yes, in itself destroys that very purpose. But, this is not a place to think about too much, even if there are also people who come here to think, like Yoongi.

He turns the engine off, puts down the stand, and takes off his helmet. You follow behind, curious.

“I figured we should make something out of being outside right now, the sun is about to set.” He looks at his watch and then to the front, at the view. From here you can see the city from above, at least a big part of it. Including the mountains and skylines.

“C’mon,” he pats your tight twice, asking you to get down. Complying, you use his shoulders for support again and get closer to the barricade at the edge. 

“C'mon,” you throw back to him when he doesn't follow you.

“I can see it from here.”

You frown at him, “really?” He nods. Your head tilts slightly to the side, “reeeally?” 

“Let a guy be.”

He looks… weird. 

And, suddenly, it clicks.

“I can't believe it.” You walk back to him, “Are you afraid of heights?!” 

“Don't make fun of me.” 

“I'm not!” But in fact you're fighting back a smile, “is just… unexpected.”

“Yeah. Unlike the death from falling from here to who knows where.” He reasons and you can't really argue with that.

But you can argue with him moving closer.

Grabbing his hand and pulling, amazed when you manage a few steps without problem, but soon he puts strength into it. The abrupt stop of his body pulls yours back, bringing you close to his chest, making a surprise noise cross your lips and your triumphant smile is gone.

“Don't make me leave you here,” and for a second you wonder if he really would. Wonder how much you can push before he actually gets mad. “Look!”

Your eyes stop scanning his face, following the direction he is looking at and you catch the sky changing colors for the next few minutes. Blue. Orange. Pink. Purple. Dark blue, because the lights of the city start to appear avoiding the complete darkness. But from here, you can see more stars than from your room's window and everything seems kind of infinity.

“Wow…” is a bit lame and predictable, but what else is there to say?

“Yeah. Is beautiful.” He agrees, hand finally letting go of yours and moving to your shoulder, “and you didn't have to stand at the line of death to see it.”

“So dramatic.” With an eye roll you turn to him. He appears calmer, with a smile playing on his lips as he keeps looking at the sky.

“What?” he asks.

You're in his room now, sitting on the bed Yoongi just told you he had to buy a mattress for because he used to dorm at his last university and didn't own one. You make no promises of not spilling any of your slushie on it and he laughs, tells you he will not forgive you and both of you know it’s not true. 

Going back to your room isn't a priority right now, you're having a good time talking about random things and siping your sugary drinks with a big bag of chips between the two. You were nervous about his roommates because apparently they are older and that scares you for some reason, but he reassures you they are busy with their own thing and he can drive you back before they arrive.

“Nothing.” But your eyes are still on his lips, on the color they are tinted thanks to the red drinks, “do you like it?”

“Is not bad. I prefer blueberry, though.” 

“I think this one is better,” you said that before at the store when you stopped for gas, convincing him to try it.

“Of course you think so, you love cherry things. I'd not be surprised if your favorite color is red just because of it.”

“How do you know that?” is surprising he says it with such security.

“It is?”

“No. I mean, yes,” you backtrack, “but how do you know that I love cherry things? Did the matchmakers tell you that?”

“Mai and Hobi?

You nod, too curious of his answer you miss the way his eyes are following your lips as they wrap around the straw.

“No. But you always have cherry candy with you. You gave us cherry lollipops on tuesday. I asked you for gum the other day and you gave me cherry. Jungkook gets you cherry cola specifically, from the vending machine at our building. And,” he pauses his list, the corner of his lip curving up, “like four out of the five times we've kissed, you either test or smell like cherry. Or both.”

“Well,” you answer after a couple seconds of silence, “I'm conscious now.”

He laughs, and you drink again.

“Don't be. Is like… your touch.”

“Ew,” noise scrunched up, “I don't know if I want that. Am I going to be known as the cherry girl?”

Again he laughs, your horrified expression making it impossible not to. 

“Do I smell like it right now?” Bringing your arm to your nose, you try smelling your clothes. Then your hair. 

“Stop,” he asks, reaching to put strains of hair back into place. “You smell good. Forget I said anything.”

“No, I can't. Now it’s in my head.” You try smelling your other arm, almost spilling your drink.

“Okay,” he catches it in time, tilting your hand back completely upright, “that way you really are going to taste like cherry and leave a trace behind.” 

“Wait. Do I really taste like it? When you kiss me, does it bother you?” 

“Why are you freaking out about this?” And seeing your seriousness, he bites back his chuckles.

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay, okay. Let's see,” and before you can process it, his lips are on yours, and he hums. “Can’t tell.” And he goes in again, free hand to the back of your head to bring you forward, to really capture your lips with his.

Running his tongue over your bottom lip sends shivers through your body since it’s warmer, softer. And a small moan escapes your lips, separating them and letting his tongue in. 

You're scared to move. Not because of him. But because you have been wanting to kiss him since sitting down — heck, since this morning — but didn't know how. All this feels so complicated in your head, with rules you have to follow and what not, but in practice, he makes it look so much easier. 

Of course you can't pull him for a kiss in your friends’ house, that is too risky. But when he kisses you like this, it gives you confidence to at least ask him to do it whenever you're alone and feel like it.

Somehow your hand is on his neck, fingers running through the hair at his nape as your mouths keep their rhythm going. And you decide to take the risk, kneeling on the bed and moving closer to him. You separate for a second only to make sure you're not making a mess and he smiles at you, “give me that.” Sipping one last time at the slushie, you give it to him to be secured and abandoned on his nightstand, bag of chips moves next and now his hands are free to pull you into his lap by your waist.

“You haven't answered the question,” you tell him, hands cupping his face, “Or you just wanted to kiss me?”

“Stop stealing my lines.”

“Is that a no?” You pretend to pull back and his hold tightness.

“You want me to say it?” a nod is your answer, and is a bit surprising when he obeys. “Yes. I wanted to kiss you,” and he does, making his point clear. “And also yes, you test like cherry sometimes,” another peck, “is sweeter now, but not so much like when is from your candies,” his voice gets lower each time, practically a whisper, “and your lips look amazing tinted red, I want to kiss you every time.”

And you make it happen. Kissing him softer this time, setting your own peace. Yoongi goes with it at first, but those thoughts he doesn't share with you are hard to keep on track when your hips grind against his. Not helping with the situation in his jeans. 

His hands hold you firmly, stopping your movements, and his lips move faster, fighting for dominance. He wants you and you know it and it gives you the confidence to move again. At first it was involuntarily, your body's own reaction to him, but then you put force into it, mostly to go against his hold. He groans into your mouth, feeling it rumble against your chest. 

Pushing his shoulders back, Yoongi finally gives in and lets go of your hips in order to help himself up with an arm behind him, other hand on your thigh. His eyes travel from there to your chest, moving as fast as his with your breathing, to your face, bottom lip between your teeth and his tongue touches his own in the same place. You just sit there, looking at each other for a few seconds until his hand moves up your leg, dragging the fabric of the skirt along. But he stops mid way, going back down. He chuckles at your reaction of puffing air as a sign of deception, “what's that?”

Prying your eyes from his hand is difficult, but you look at his face, smirk in place as he moves again, fingertips glassing over soft skin. “I should make you do it too,” he teases, “make you tell me what you think and what you want.”

The idea is both terrifying and a turn on at the same time. You have never vocally asked for anything like that, but the tone of his voice, the raspiness, it intoxicates you so much you may be willing to try.

“But I'm not mean like you, baby.” In one swift movement his hand is up your leg again, grabbing your butt and making your skirt rail up, exposing more of your thigh and you gasp as he bucks his hips upward.

“I’m not mean,” you breathe. 

“No?” Head tilts to the side, that playful smile of his should be a crime. “Are you a good girl?”

“I hate you.”

“So we are dirty talking,” he nods and you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

It hasn't been long, but you really like what you guys have. Is easy. Without drama or feelings being hurt. And, being completely honest, the way he kisses you is enough to know you make the right decision.

Do you still believe in soulmates and want to meet yours and live happily ever after like all the love stories you have consumed throughout your life? Yes. But maybe your story can also include an arc of exploring your sexuality with someone who is just a friend. Someone who gets your jokes and trusts you too. Someone who kisses you sooo good it takes your breath away without having to be scared of the future and what-ifs. 

Someone whose fingertips brush the top of your inner thighs, so close to their goal, but nothing more because he is waiting for you. Although it’s hard because of the little sounds that keep flowing out of your throat as you start moving your hips on his lap, grinding on his hardening erection.

He is kissing your neck, sucking here and there but not hard enough to leave marks, and his other hand has made its way down your t-shirt, looking for that skin to skin contact, glad both of your guys' jackets were abandoned way before at his bedroom’s entrance. 

“Tell me to stop and I'll,” Yoongi reminds against your skin and you nod, the hand under your skirt finally moving from its place and you miss the warmth it provided. But his fingers reach for the waistband of your panties and your breath hatch a little as they move south, thumb brushing over your clothed pussy. “Fuck.” 

You moan. At the touch, at his reaction to feeling you're wet. And before you can feel conscious about it, he is rubbing circles over it. “Ahh…”

“So responsive,” he groans, “Does it feel good?” 

You nod, unable to form words as he pushes gently over on your center, making your body move towards him, looking for more. And he gives it to you by sneaking his hand under your panties, ring finger sliding between your folds, a groan of his own accompanying your whimpers as he truly feels how wet you're.

“F-fuck. You feel so soft,” Yoongi points out and it makes a shiver run down your body, while he keeps rubbing expertly, cupping your pussy when even without realizing your hips start moving again, looking for more friction.

“Y-yoongi,” you call, asking for more. 

For a second you think he doesn't get it because he takes his hand out, however is only to bring his ring and middle finger to his mouth, humming around them without breaking eye contact. Brown irises over taken by desire and you could've gotten lost on that look alone, but soon his hand goes back to its place between your legs, “Breathe,” he instructs, “tell me if it hurts.”

And it does, a little. Because you're not used to it and every touch is a bit overwhelming, all the same, he is gentle, one finger pushing in slowly and not all the way before going back. Your eyes close under his gaze, inspecting your reaction as he pushes in again, letting you get used to the feeling. 

“Is it good?” his lips go back to your neck, kissing his way up to your lips. 

“S-so good,” you smile against his mouth, “you can go on.”

And he moans against yours before adding another one, two digits inside you.

The thing about Yoongi is: he is a pleaser. He likes making his partners feel good and the way your lips part as he pushes into your pussy makes him weak. He knows that if you asked him to finger you all night he would, no questions asked.

But he also knows you don't have much time. That's why you are still sitting on his lap and not laying on his bed, and why he kept your clothes on even if is now regretting it.

His eyes travel down your body, to your hand in a fist with the fabric of your clothes. “Pull it up, doll.” Yoongi requests. “Your skirt. Let me see you.” 

You do, the carmine color on your cheeks even deeper as your sight is filled with his hand movements. 

“...so hot, taking my fingers so good.” He murmurs, hand on your lower back holding you in place as he picks up the peace. Feeling how your walls tighten around him every time he pushes in and his dick requests attention at the thought of fucking you properly. If only he had time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuc-” is your new mantra as his fingers move expertly, breaking into incohesive moans when they touch the bundle of muscle that makes you see stars. 

“I got you,” he says, “f-fuck, so pretty, baby.” Yoongi's voice is so gentle and still filled with lust as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, getting you closer and closer to the end. “C’mon, let me see you cum, y/n.”

And that's all you need, hear your name so out of breath, to practically hit your orgasm on command. Head tilted back and lip between your teeth to suppress any noises, ignoring the voice of reason in your head that tells you is a bit late for that.

When you open your eyes again Yoongi's fingers are back in his mouth, sucking yourself off of them, and even if you just reached your high, you can't help the way your pussy reacts to that.

Catching you staring, he winks at you. 

And before you can decide the next move, your ringtone fills the silence, almost making you jump out of his lap. He chuckles, “Careful,” freeing you from his hands as you reach for your phone.

“Yes?” You answer, free hand fixing your clothes and putting black strains in place, trying to shake the feeling of being caught.

“Hi. Sorry about the time, my flight got canceled and then the next one took hours and—” taking the phone away from your ear, you realize that in the heat of the moment you didn't even notice it was an unknown number and not one of the guys. You're about to say they probably got the wrong number but the person keeps talking and it feels rude to just cut them off. “...but I'll have to wait until tomorrow. So apparently you're the only one with a key now and they said you were here but I knocked and well, I don't know if you were sleeping or…?” 

It takes you a second to process they do want you to talk now. “Sorry. I don't think I'm who you're looking for.”

“Are you not y/n?”

“Yes…” you turn to Yoongi, confused expression matching yours. “Who are you?”

“Oh, shit. I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?” You nod even if it can't be seen through the phone, “I'm Subin. Your new roommate.”

A/N: AAAAAAHHHHHH pls don't call Subin a cockblocker ㅠ^ㅠ even if she would call herself that if she knew hahah. A/N 2: ALSO, I decided to try something new with the format of showing the texting, so please tell me your opinion, do you like it as screenshots or prefer it to be typed down? or is the same either way? Send a tip on ko-fi?? ( Only if you can and don't feel pressured to do it! )

♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland , @itsmina29 , @ktownshizzle , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @kimtaehussy .

➪ 01 ・ 02  ・  03 | ➪ Tag for TCT verse | ♡ Tag list ➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Pinned | ➪ Ko-fi

[notmorbid]

cuckoo.

dialogue prompts from cuckoo by gretchen felker-martin.

i've never liked my daughter.

something in my life, in my home, is very wrong.

are you going to cry now?

can i do anything to make it up to you?

you have every right not to trust me.

i just want to stop hurting you.

it's okay if you can't believe me.

it's so easy not to trust success when we've grown used to failure.

our hearts want what's familiar.

you think i'm that shallow?

you weren't supposed to follow me.

am i dead? did i have a stroke?

i bet you're pretty angry right now.

this is something that happens in horror movies.

you don't want to try so you won't be able to fail.

i don't want to have to be brave.

my grandma says i don't know when to shut up. i guess she's right.

i hope that bite gets infected.

you're like a cat. you only want what you can't have.

you think the world owes you something just for waking up.

there's something cold between my mother and me. something ugly.

___ doesn't love me. doesn't love any of us.

hey, you okay?

what, are you gonna narc?

this is real. it really happened.

something's really wrong. i'm not crazy.

i wish i looked like you.

have you been having nightmares?

i don't know how, but we have to get out.

something bad is happening. something is wrong.

it was nice to forget, for a minute.

what do you know about surviving on your own?

hoping for anything better is just daydreaming.

i'm going to become someone you can be proud of.

what happened to you out there?

i'll give you my address. we can keep in touch.

being tough doesn't mean shit. it won't save you.

you'll never be alone again.

am i dead? is this hell?

take a walk.

this seems like a sad place.

this is how people die in horror movies.

it feels like someone is watching me.

it felt like the kind of thing good people were supposed to do.

you said i'm brave, so i must be brave.

i want to be nailed to a cross and burned. and i want everyone to think how beautiful i look, and how sorry they are.

don't worry. i'll show you how i like it,

are you here with me? is this real?

i'm here with you. i'm here.

everything feels like it's moving too fast.

living means making sense of what happened.

you're the tom cruise of fucking up.

i would have done anything. believed anything.

what would you do with my face? my life?

aren't you tired of being afraid?

go. i'm right behind you.

aren't you tired of being so strong for everyone?

i told you i wasn't lying.

nothing will ever feel normal again.

it felt like you were with me.

if you don't have anything useful to say, just shut up.

can you do anything but run your mouth?

are you going to finish that?

i can practically hear you blushing.

do you like me? i honestly can't tell.

i'm sorry i couldn't protect you.

what did they do to you?

feels like you don't want to see me.

do you have a lot of thoughts like that?

you have me confused with someone else.

fuck you. i've got my own problems.

it wasn't a dream. i can't pretend anymore.

you're not going to hurt me. we're the same.

do you even care how i feel?

are you going to start crying now?

trouble in pussy paradise?

you look like a movie star.

you look so different.

what if the drugs don't work?

smoking is a dirty habit.

nobody cares. no one is coming.

you really haven't changed that much, have you?

i didn't want to come, and i still don't want to be here.

how did you do this alone for so long?

no credit cards. we can't leave a trail.

it's like picking glass out of bathwater.

i'm so sorry. for everything.

do you think we have a chance?

would you ever try again? with me?

i keep thinking of you. i'm always thinking of you.

if i die, no one will miss me.

we bring out the best in each other, when we aren't ruining each other's lives.

i'm so scared, i'm not even angry anymore.

people are dead because of me.

we're all going to die, aren't we?

i can feel it. they're close now.

it wants us alive.

let's start some fires.

i love you. be good.

i'll take you home, if that's what you want.

i can't sleep in the city.

[remy-white]

Lovers to Enemies Dialogue Prompts

"Tell me it’s not true. Tell me you didn’t do this."

"How long?" (A quiet, broken whisper, filled with disbelief.)

"I trusted you. I loved you. And you made a fool of me."

"Was any of it real? Or was I just another piece in your game?"

"You look at me like I'm the villain, but you left me no choice."

"You swore to me. You swore you'd never lie to me. And yet, here we are."

"Every word you ever said to me—it was all a lie, wasn’t it?"

"You can hate me all you want, but don't pretend you didn't know this was coming."

"I would have done anything for you. I would have burned the world for you. But now? I’ll watch it burn with you in it."

"I thought losing you would be the worst thing that could happen. Turns out, knowing you was."

"You have no idea what this is doing to me." "Oh, I do. And I don’t care."

"Do you even regret it? Do you even feel anything?"

"If I had known who you truly were, I never would have let you touch me."

"I didn’t want this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you." "Then why did you?"

"You’re the only person who could have hurt me like this."

"You loved me once. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?" "I don’t even recognize the person I loved anymore."

"I didn’t lie about loving you." "No, but you lied about everything else."

"Don’t walk away. Please." "I should’ve walked away a long time ago."

"I wish I had never met you." "That makes two of us."

"If I meant nothing to you, why did you bother pretending?"

"You played your part well. I’ll give you that."

"I tried to tell you. You just refused to see it."

"You could have told me the truth, and I might have understood. But you chose to lie."

"You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and now you’re the worst."

"I hope it was worth it." "It never was."

"Go ahead. Hate me. It won’t change what happened."

"You say you didn’t want to hurt me, but you still did."

"You weren’t supposed to find out this way." "Oh? And how exactly was I supposed to find out that the person I love is a liar?"

"I should have known better than to believe in you."

"You had a choice. And you chose to betray me."