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just-come-baek · 4 years ago

Text

bet on it

Pairing: Na Jaemin x female!reader

Word count: 21.2k

Summary: One day, Jaemin stops by with a strange request. Any other person would just laugh in his face and refuse in a second. Unfortunately, I, being the dumbass I am, agree to it. Soon enough, everything gets out of hand, causing much more drama than we could ever predict.

Or in other words, Jaemin shouldn’t bet on things he knows he can’t win.

A/N it’s an instalment for love letters event hosted by neosmutcollective, I hope you enjoy my jaemin entry as well as other entries written by my friends from the network, check out the event tags too, and yeah, happy valentine's day! 😏 💖

***

“What?” I yelled, almost spitting my tea. No, I must’ve heard him wrong. Jaemin wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that. It had to be a joke. Or I must’ve imagined him say that. “You don’t mean that,” I added, still in shock, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“Come on, Noona,” Jaemin whined, staring right into my eyes, wishing for me to say yes to his ridiculous proposal. “I wouldn’t suggest that if I knew we couldn’t pull through.”

With a sigh, I shook my head. Jaemin’s proposition was absurd, and I couldn’t believe I was about to ask him again to walk me through it.

Damn me and my curiosity.

“Before I make my mind about this… tell me what the fuck led you guys to make that stupid bet. Then, and only then, I will still say no, but in good faith,” I demanded, smiling at Jaemin, knowing I wouldn’t make it easy for him to convince me. The odds weren’t in his favor, and he really had to put in lots of effort if he really wanted me on board.

“So we were chilling after practice, and then Haechan started to tease me that I have no game anymore,” Jaemin started, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, I should’ve figured it out. A man in his age apparently is a failure unless he has a different girl in his bed at least 3 nights a week, moaning his name at the top of her voice. Even though Jaemin doesn’t have a competitive nature, it still provoked him into agreeing to this absurd bet.

Life must be though with an ego so fragile…

Jaemin isn’t a fuckboy, yet he still has a fair share of love conquests. Though I had no idea whether it was true or not, he must have fallen a little behind the others – otherwise, they wouldn’t tease him about it.

“And then I said his mother must’ve dropped him on the head if he really thinks that,” Jaemin carried on. I nodded my head, trying to wrap my head around this preposterous situation. “Then, I said I could seduce any girl I want,” he added proudly, making me want to flicker his forehead, hoping it would knock some sense into that empty skull at the top of his neck.

“Okay, but how the hell did you end up with having to seduce me? This is the part I have the most trouble understanding,” I pointed out, cocking my eyebrow.

“Then, Chenle suggested we bet on it, and I agreed to it,” Jaemin whispered, looking away, sounding both regretful and shy. “I urged them to pick any girl, so Haechan looked around to choose my next conquest. It was the time when you and Ten were walking to the dance studio, and that bastard suggested you.”

So it was Haechan’s doing – I should’ve figured this one out. He was the only one wicked enough to possibly ruin somebody’s friendship because of a stupid bet.

Or, it was quite genius of him – maybe he figured Jaemin would not cross this line, choosing our friendship over winning this imbecilic bet.

“And you were confident you can woo me? What about our friendship? Does it mean anything to you?” I inquired, curious of what was going inside his head when he agreed to this half-witted bet. Did he seriously think we could have sex and then forget all about it?

“It’s not like that! I don’t want to woo you. I mean… I could, and you would be very much aware if I tried to hit on you, and you would fall for me. No doubts on that,” Jaemin spoke confidently, grinning like an idiot with ego blown way out of proportion. “But–“

Jaemin was about to say something dense, so before more bullshit managed to leave his mouth, I hit him with a cutting board. Jaemin whined, but I was sure he was exaggerating for comedy purposes. My hit was calculated and balanced – it was powerful enough for him to understand it wasn’t a good idea, but at the same, it was not going to cause any permanent damage to his brain. I’d never purposefully do that to him.

“We’re not having sex. Get that shit inside your head,” I interjected, pouring my herbal tea down my throat, already thinking about making another cup. This conversation was making me uncomfortable, and I wanted to put an end to it. Perhaps another lemon balm tea would calm my nerves.

Ignoring his penetrating gaze, I shuffled around the kitchen, setting the kettle on the stove. In the meantime, Jaemin walked around the kitchen island and grabbed me by my shoulders, looking straight into my eyes.

“Come on, Noona, I am not asking you to sleep with me,” Jaemin defended his case, quite determined to pull me on his side.

“Well… it looks exactly like you’re asking me to sleep with you,” I cut in, walking around him to the cabinet to get a fresh tea bag. I’ve really had enough of this bullshit.

“We could just make it look like like we did,” he carried on, and I heaved a deep sigh, regretting even letting him in today. I had this extremely boring essay to write, and at this point, I’d rather begin my research on whatever topic my professor assigned.

“It’s still a no from me, sorry,” I replied harshly, crashing Jaemin’s expectations. Judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t the outcome he anticipated when he decided to knock on my doors. “What happens when you lose that bet? Well… except for your pride, of course.”

“500 dollars.”

“Ouch, sowwy, I hope you can afford that,” I added with a fake smile, patting him on the shoulder, being well aware this amount of money was a game-changer to Jaemin’s budget. If he won, he would have the time of his life, spoiling himself. However, if he lost, he’d have to eat instant ramen on every meal for the entire month. “Either way, I hope it will teach you a lesson to not bet on things you know you can’t win.”

“Ugh, fine,” Jaemin groaned in disappointment, reaching for my hands, holding them carefully as if they were made of china. “If you help me, I’ll give you half of the money,” he proposed, and I looked at our hands linked together, then quickly shifted my gaze to his eyes. “If you help me win, you’ll get 250 dollars, and you’ll be finally able to buy those fancy shoes you wanted so bad. What do you say?”

When did he get so persuasive?

It was a low blow.

Jaemin knew that these shoes were tempting me ever since I had seen them. Multiple times, my thumb hovered over the add-to-cart button. Every time, I resisted the temptation last minute upon seeing the price tag, though. This purchase was way out of my budget. However, now, when the new income opportunity presented itself, it made me wonder.

Suddenly, the kettle began to whistle, bringing me down to Earth from that ridiculous train of thought. Shaking my head, I tore my hands out of Jaemin’s gentle grasp, fidgeting back to the stove, pouring boiling water into the cup.

“Okay, fine, but I have a few questions first,” I gave up after a short pause for intense pondering, and Jaemin smiled brightly in instant gratitude and relief. Without my help, he would be doomed. “And then, if I like the answers, I have a few conditions.”

“Anything.”

“Okay, so first of all, how much time do we have to do the deed,” I inquired as I blew some air before taking a cautious sip.

“About two weeks,” Jaemin mentioned after a while as he had counted on his fingers how many days we have to team up and win five hundred dollars for us. “Officially, we have to do it before Jaehyun’s birthday party,” he specified, and I hummed, realizing it is very little time.

“You seriously think I am that easy? Outrageous,” I gasped, throwing a fake tantrum as I made my way around him to sit down on the barstool on the other side of the kitchen island.

“No, of course not,” Jaemin quickly realized what I was getting on, so he smiled sheepishly, already trying to figure out the best wording to calm me down. “I am just that good,” he added, and I leaned over to smack his shoulder. “Kidding,” he defended himself, stepping out of my reach. “Renjun proposed this party, I mean, it’s the easiest way they can verify we did it,” Jaemin carried on, and I cursed under my breath.

How convenient.

“But we’re not going to do the fucking,” I stated, as a matter of fact, repeating myself in order to make sure we were both on the same page. As much as it would be pleasant to actually do it with him, never under these circumstances.

“No, we’re not, but I guess we can sneak out upstairs to one of the unoccupied rooms, and once we make sure they’re listening, you can just shout how good I’m fucking you,” Jaemin reasoned, and I sighed as regret once again washed through me.

“That’s creepy,” I commented as my mind conjured an image of a group of peeping Toms, eavesdropping on our sex session. Once again, I felt the temptation to drop out of this deal, but then, another thought crossed my mind. “Ugh, fine, I’ll do it. All I have to do is shout for two minutes, and then, these cute shoes will be mine.”

“Two minutes? Are you insane?” Jaemin hollered, offended by my comment. “It happened once, and it was ages ago. I’ve learned plenty of tricks since then,” he blabbered, acting way too defensive for his past mishap. “Just let me live in peace, please.”

“Okay, so we have established the deadline, and although it’s not enough time for anyone to woo me, let’s go with it.”

“Thank you! I knew I could count on you,” Jaemin replied with gleeful enthusiasm as he sat down on the barstool beside me and pressed a chaste kiss against my knuckles.

“But you have to go overboard with the courting,” I added, making Jaemin groan. Hard work wasn’t his best suit, but this time, he really had to try his best, or I’d have to turn him down at Jaehyun’s party. “You really have to make it believable and super romantic. Otherwise, I’m out,” I clarified, and Jaemin nodded, though unwillingly.

“Fine, any other wishes in mind?”

“Once we win the bet, we have to end this whole fake-dating fiasco immediately,” I announced, already planning ahead. It was easy to win the bet, but the most difficult part was getting back to normal. If we planned to fake-date in order to fake-fuck, then it was reasonable to figure out how we’re going to fake-break up.

“We should agree on admitting it was the best sex of our lives, but despite that, we value our friendship even more, so we decided to remain friends. How does it sound?” Jaemin suggested, and I had to once again resist the temptation to roll my eyes.

“I agree with the overall message, but later, we have to work on proper delivery.”

***

On the very next day, Jaemin and I decided to implement our secret plan.

Since I specifically asked to be courted in an over-the-top manner, Jaemin suggested going to the cinema. There were no attention-grabbing titles screened, yet ultimately, we agreed on watching the very last projection of the sequel to Wonder Woman.

“Go get the snacks, I’ll buy the tickets,” I ordered once we stepped into the cinema area of the nearest shopping mall. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, so the establishment wasn’t crowded. Except for us, there was only a family of three slowly making their way to the exit.

“See you in five minutes,” Jaemin murmured before he walked off to the bar to get us some salty popcorn and soda drinks. Though we both considered them way overpriced, it was a perfect way to celebrate the beginning of our fake relationship.

“We still have some time until the movie starts,” Jaemin shyly whispered as he cleared his throat. “Let’s take some selfies to make it public,” he added, and I nodded, sending him a timid smile, knowing this protocol had to be done in order to properly keep up appearances.

These days, everything had to be posted on social media, or it didn’t exist. If we didn’t leave a single digital mark, people might’ve grown a little bit suspicious of our alleged rendezvous. It would probably shock our friends, but it had to be done if we wanted to really sell it to them.

The circumstances were perfect for an impromptu first-date photo shoot. We were able to snap a few pictures without any annoying looks of prying eyes, choose the best angles, and finally post it with an ambiguous description confusing the shit out our friends.

Though Jaemin took about fifty photos, ultimately, I allowed him to upload three.

One picture showed me standing back to the camera as I looked at the cinema schedule, trying to pick a movie. I was wearing an A-line crimson red dress and a pair of warm black tights – the outfit really made my figure look pretty slim.

“What do you think about this one?” Jaemin inquired, showing me the photo of our interlaced hands. With a hum, I inspected the picture, giving him the green light. It was appropriate for our first date – it would signify we weren’t at the cinema as friends.

“This one looks good enough,” I commented as I reached to swipe across the screen of his smartphone. “I look cute here,” I added, showing Jaemin a picture of us. We were smiling, staring at the camera, almost stuffing our faces into the bucket of popcorn.

“What kind of description should I write?”

“Something vague, I guess,” I answered with a shrug, having no clue what kind of comment would be fitting for this Instagram post. “Maybe stick to emojis,” I suggested, and Jaemin went back to work, adjusting filters and typing the description.

With a chuckle, Jaemin handed me his phone, letting me approve his commentary.

“Are you out of your mind?” I hollered, quickly deleting the emojis. Having smacked his shoulder, I turned around, blocking him from seeing the screen. Three blushed emojis suited our fake-date better than a popcorn bucket, a wine glass, and an eggplant.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Jaemin apologized, still laughing at his incredibly funny joke.

“Here, I posted it,” I said with an eye roll, throwing his phone at his lap. “The commercials must’ve started; let’s go,” I rose from my seat and extended my arm, wanting Jaemin to hand me the cup of coke. Jaemin, however, completely misunderstood my intentions, putting his hand into mine, holding it gently. “Give me my drink, Jaemin.”

“Sorry,” Jaemin sheepishly smiled before he yanked back his hand and turned his head around, too embarrassed to look at me. I, on the other hand, laughed hysterically. That should’ve served him right after that emoji faux pas.

“I was kidding,” I admitted when my laughter died down. “Come on, Jaemin. Let’s go; I want to see the trailers,” I added before grabbing his hand, hauling him inside the screening room.

At the last row, we plopped down onto our double seat, getting comfortable for the movie. With our belongings thrown onto the neighboring seat, we stretched our limbs before the lights went out, providing us with the best viewing experience.

“Do you think they’ve seen it?” Jaemin whispered into my ear as he placed his head on my shoulders. “I want to check it, but at the same time, I don’t.”

“Mood,” I replied, feeling just as anxious.

The movie began, and we quickly forgot about our bold social media statement, focusing much more on the screening. Residing to our typical behavior, Jaemin placed his head on my shoulder, snuggling closer, taking full advantage of the bucket of popcorn, which rested on my thighs.

It was peaceful and comfortable – just as things were before Jaemin had come up with his brilliant idea to fake-date each other for the sake of that ludicrous bet. Though we acted the way we used to with each other, it felt somewhat different with that supposed romantic connotations haunting us. Not necessarily bad kind of different, though.

Just as we expected, two hours was more than enough for our friends to spam our individual inboxes. We both had dozens of messages from group chats, as well as private ones. All of them were asking and/or speculating what happened and why.

“I don’t feel like answering any of these,” I muttered, dreading to read what Ten and Jiwoo wrote on our roomies’ group chat. “I don’t feel like coming home, either. They’re gonna eat me alive with questions. I am not ready to face them yet. Wanna hang out some more?”

“Fuck, even my mom has seen them,” Jaemin cursed under his breath, completely forgetting about his mother being a mad keen Instagram user. Now, when he looked at our arrangement from a slightly different angle, Jaemin realized it brought way more consequences than he was planning on facing.

It was bad.

Really bad.

With shaky hands, I unlocked my phone, checking the Instagram post Jaemin had tagged me in. Not only our friends flooded the group chats, but also, they didn’t forget to embarrass us even further in the comment section.

lucas_xx444: what the heck??? 😧 is this for real???

yuu_taa_1026: finally!!1 maybe they stop simping for each other now 🤡

_jeongjaehyun: another man down, shame 😔

choi.jiwoo21: 🙄�� some men actually grow up, jeong…

mama_nana: Why am I only finding about this now?

“Well… fuck,” I murmured under my breath, still unable to process the fact that Jaemin’s mom knew about it. It was supposed to be a harmless charade; however, with each passing minute, it was getting out of hand. “What is the damage control procedure?” I asked in concern, biting the bottom lip nervously. Lying to our friends was pretty bad, but keeping this relationship thingy up in front of his mother was despicable.

“You know how she is,” Jaemin started, and I sighed, wishing I had no clue of what she was capable of. Unfortunately, I did, and it scared the hell out of me. “Either we go and visit her, or she’s coming to visit us,” he wondered, unable to choose which option was worse. “Fuck, she’s calling me. What do I do?”

With panic flashed in his eyes, Jaemin handed me his phone, expecting me to handle the conversation with his gossip-girl type of a mother. As if that would ever happen…

“Pick up and tell her we’re awfully busy or something,” I ordered him, gliding my finger across the screen, pressing the device against Jaemin’s ear.

“Hi, mom,” he spoke through gritted teeth, staring at me in absolute fury. Quickly, his hand cupped mine before he grabbed the phone, adjusting it.

By Jaemin’s mom’s standards, the conversation was brief. Or rather, her monologue was because Jaemin didn’t speak a single word through the entirety of it. Except for a couple of mmm’s thrown here and there, he didn’t engage at all.

Ideally, Jaemin would schedule the visit after we will have broken up. He’d go there by himself and tell her a story of us coming back to our senses and deciding to remain just friends. Unfortunately, that would require at least one functional brain cell and a pinch of assertiveness – both of which Jaemin seemed to lack.

“And?” I inquired, praying to hear some good news.

With a sheepish smile, Jaemin cautiously looked up at me. “We’re visiting her for dinner on Friday,” he announced, and I gripped my hands, trying to refrain myself from beating the shit out of him.

I didn’t sign up for any of this!

I just wanted some shoes.

“I hate you, Na Jaemin,” I angrily declared, storming out of the cinema, ready to indulge myself with plenty of greasy food. It wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but I needed to consume a ridiculous amount of calories in order to forget I was stupid enough to agree to participate in this travesty. “Are you coming or not?!”

***

The last thing I wanted was to face my roommates. They must’ve had dozens of questions about this out-of-the-blue date, and I was dreadful because I couldn’t provide them with genuine answers. Perhaps, I could try to confabulate my way out of this, but it was, nonetheless, risky.

Having eaten at least two servings of a delicious greasy meal Jaemin and I went for a stroll under the pretense of taking some more photos for future references.

Around 8 o’clock, I unwillingly made my way home. Even with that romantic aura lurking around us, it was still fun to hang out with Jaemin.

Walking up the stairs to the fourth floor, I wondered about possible solutions to my problem. In a perfect scenario, I’d sneak into my room without anyone noticing, so I wouldn’t have to deal with any prying questions until, at least, early morning.

Unfortunately, the moment I pulled out my keys, the doors swung wide open.

“Well, well, well…” Ten tsked with a mischievous smirk dancing across his gorgeous face. Asshole. How dare he tsk me? “Had fun on your date?” He asked, and I tried my best to ignore him. It wasn’t that easy, though. With Jiwoo backing up his teasing, I was outnumbered.

“So… you and Jaemin, huh?” Jiwoo mused, cocking up her eyebrow in curiosity. “Spill the tea. I didn’t spam your inbox to not hear all the details,” she added, and I rolled my eyes, regretting all of my poor life choices that led me to this moment.

“I’ll bring wine,” Ten hollered before he disappeared in the kitchen, also keen on knowing everything that had happened between us. “Don’t say anything until I get there!”

They wanted to hear a romantic story of how two friends realized they had hots for each other, and that’s exactly what I did. Unwillingly, I provided them with an incredible piece of fiction of how we felt the spark when Jaemin stopped by the other day.

Admittedly, it was easy to go with the flow once the wine molecules were coursing through my veins. With some liquid inspiration in my bloodstream, I narrated how adorable Jaemin had been when he had gathered enough courage to ask me out on a date.

“So I assume you’re bringing Jaemin to the cabin on the weekend,” Jiwoo inquired in a teasing manner, and I blinked in confusion. What cabin was she talking about? “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Forgot about what?” I asked, still clueless about the whole ordeal. With a confused frown, I wondered what this cabin trip was about. Positively, I didn’t forget about it. It’s impossible to forget about plans you weren’t even invited to.

So, Jiwoo explained everything in great detail.

Apparently, Jaehyun and Johnny planned a weekend getaway to the cabin by the sea. They invited plenty of people, but since it’s the middle of a hectic period of exams, only a small percentage of invitees would be able to make it.

Jaehyun, Johnny, and Lucas gave up trying to get the best grades two semesters ago, so their schedule was pretty much open. Renjun, Chenle, and Yeri were nerds with every necessary book memorized by heart, so they didn’t have to cram the weekend before the tests. Jiwoo, being heads over heels in love with Jaehyun, would even cancel her manicure appointment to make it to that trip. She was that serious about this fratboy for some reason…

And now, two individuals needed a perfect excuse to ditch an uncomfortable family dinner. When a chance presented itself in front of me, I just couldn’t say no.

“I’m going. I don’t know about Jaemin, though. He’s meeting his mom on Friday, but maybe he can make it work.”

“Fantastic,” Jiwoo shouted in excitement before finishing her glass of wine.

“Now, when I think about it, I am glad I’ve taken an extra shift at the gym,” Ten chimed in with a playful smirk as he sipped his wine. “You two simping for each other was painful to watch, but now, when you’re hitting it off, it’s gonna be unbearable.”

“What do you mean simping?” I yelled in a threatening manner, ready to fight him for spitting nonsense so carelessly. I might’ve had a tiny crush on Jaemin, but I wouldn’t call it simping. Also, suggesting the simping was mutual? He must’ve lost his freaking mind. Ridiculous!

“Shit, I didn’t think this through,” Jiwoo mentioned, now probably re-considering if the trip is worthwhile. She would love to hang out with Jaehyun and finally make a move, but on the other hand, she would have to deal with my and Jaemin’s romantic shenanigans.

“Why are you such drama queens? We’ve been on one date, for crying out loud! Stop acting like we’re some kind of overly touchy couple because we’re not,” I barked, having no more energy to argue with them. “We’ll keep PDA to a minimum, don’t worry.”

“No need to get so defensive,” Ten added, enjoying my misery a bit too much.

“I am not getting defensive,” I argued, though facing real trouble, unable to actually back up my perspective. “Anyway, I am going to sleep. Unlike the two of you, some people have real jobs,” I added before storming to my room, plopping onto my bed with a tired groan.

Having changed into my pajamas and sneaked under the covers, I finally dared to connect my phone to the Internet. My inbox was full of texts, so I read them all. I didn’t feel like replying to any of them, though. Instead, I opened my chat with Jaemin.

my love 💖 | 20:41 | I figured it out

my love 💖 | 20:41 | You don’t have to thank me

my love 💖 | 20:41 | Also

my love 💖 | 20:41 | Wtf Jaemin?

my love 💖 | 20:41 | What kind of name is that???

my love 💖 | 20:42 | Change it back

baNANA 🍓 | 20:43 | No. 😘

baNANA 🍓 | 20:43 | The name stays

baNANA 🍓 | 20:43 | You can’t make me 😝😝

baNANA 🍓 | 20:44 | And what don’t I have to thank you for?

my love 💖 | 20:44 | I might’ve found alternative plans for friday

baNANA 🍓 | 20:44 | Oh???

my love 💖 | 20:45 | Jiwoo invited us to the cabin for the weekend

my love 💖 | 20:45 | We’re gonna get so drunk!

my love 💖 | 20:45 | It’s okay if you can’t make it, tho

baNANA 🍓 | 20:45 | Wow

baNANA 🍓 | 20:45 | I have an exam on Monday…

baNANA 🍓 | 20:45 | But I can make Haechan give me his notes

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | I wouldn’t miss it

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Good, then it’s a date

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | Date??? 🥰🥰

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Stop being so cringy!

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | Good night, love~~ 😘

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | Dream of me 😇😇😇

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Ugh.

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Disgusting 🤢🤮

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | I love you, too

***

As brilliant as my plan was, it fell through. Only partially, though. The little getaway was still a thing, but unfortunately, regardless of how much we tried, we couldn’t reschedule the dinner at Jaemin’s family home.

We still had to pay his parents a visit, but, at least, there was a silver lining.

Thanks to our hectic schedule, Jaemin’s mom wouldn’t have a chance to force us to stay longer. Whether she wanted to feed us dessert or stay the night, it was out of the question.

Since Jiwoo had one more exam to pass on Friday, half of the guests would have to show up later in the evening. Johnny, Jaehyun, Lucas, and Renjun were about to take off around noon while Jiwoo, Yeri, Chenle, Jaemin, and I had to carpool later in the evening.

I didn’t complain, though.

“It’ll be fine. It’s just my mom,” Jaemin reassured me, slipping his hand into mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I bet it’s gonna be like any other time you stopped by,” he added, and I cocked up my eyebrow suspiciously.

“You better be right,” I spoke, though still unconvinced. I knew Jaemin’s mother. She had a tendency to be, hmm…, a little bit extra. Who knew how she would behave now when she found out we were dating?

Since Jaemin was carrying our suitcases, I knocked on the front doors. Jaemin’s mom rushed to let us in, but not before she gave us bone-crushing hugs.

“I think you’ve misunderstood. I invited you for dinner. I didn’t ask you to move in with me,” Mrs. Na jested upon seeing the suitcases in Jaemin’s hands, misinterpreting the situation in the funniest way possible. “It must be shocking, but I enjoy living alone with your father.”

“We’re going to the beach with some friends after the dinner,” Jaemin clarified, and his mother hummed in understanding, acting a bit too cool about it. It’s been a while since Jaemin paid them a proper visit, and she was a little too nonchalant for my liking. “They’re going to pick us up around seven.”

She must’ve done something or was about to do something.

“Here’s some wine,” I spoke up, handing her the bottle as a small thank you gift for inviting us over for a delicious home-made meal.

“Thank you, dear. You’re so thoughtful,” Mrs. Na accepted the beverage, guiding us to the dining area. “I didn’t feel like cooking today, so I ordered some Chinese takeout. I hope you don’t mind,” she added, and I chuckled at her typical antics.

She was an amazing mother to Jaemin, raising him well, but she really was a terrible housewife. She didn’t change one bit, and I loved her for it. She had so much love for her husband, her son, and her son’s friends, and that’s what really mattered.

“Your father will be home in thirty,” she announced before she made a beeline to the kitchen to get a bottle opener. “And the takeout was supposed to arrive twenty minutes ago. If it weren’t for that slow delivery guy, I would’ve got away with my little secret,” she blabbered, laughing awkwardly.

“It’s okay, really,” I reassured her, sending her a genuine smile. “I am craving Chinese food, anyway,” I added before I elbowed Jaemin, so he would say something, too. For a blabbermouth he was, right now, he seemed awfully quiet.

Before Jaemin managed to provide his mother with a proper response, someone knocked on the doors. Since we had already arrived, it must’ve been the delivery guy with food.

“I’ll go get it,” Jaemin excused himself, leaving me alone with his mother.

“So…,” Mrs. Na cleared her throat as he began pouring wine into fancy glasses. “You guys are finally dating. And if you want me to be completely honest, I am a little bit disappointed,” she made a pause to look at me in the eye. What? She didn’t approve of me? That’s surprising; I used to think she adored me. “I am a little bit disappointed either of you didn’t make a move sooner. I was slowly losing hope,” she added, and I sighed in relief.

For a while, I was seriously concerned she didn’t like me.

“Are you expecting any guests? There’s no way we can finish it all by the four of us,” Jaemin commented as he walked into the dining room, setting two plastic bags of takeout. It smelled heavenly, and I couldn’t wait to taste whatever dish Mrs. Na had ordered.

“I can always invite your friends inside when they pull up,” she spoke matter-of-factly, but as soon as Jaemin looked at her sternly, she seconded that idea. “Or, I can pack it up, so you can share it with your friends later.”

“Should we wait for dad?” Jaemin asked when his stomach growled, demanding food. In the morning, he was quite anxious about going to his parents’ house, so he didn’t even bother to eat. Now, Jaemin was starving. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’ll get the plates,” his mom spoke, not really answering his question. Within two minutes, she came back with a special set of tableware. In their household, it was used only for holidays and other rare occasions. “Dig in,” she urged us, waiting for us to fill our plates before doing the same herself.

Whatever restaurant provided today’s dinner, it was remarkable. It wasn’t too salty, nor too spicy. Even when I was full, I still stuffed my mouth some more, unable to stop myself.

“You have sauce on your chin,” Jaemin remarked, pointing at his own chin, helping me locate the stray drop of soy sauce. “Here,” he added with a tired shake of his head, wiping it clean with his napkin.

“You two are too adorable,” Mrs. Na cooed, smiling at us widely. “It was worth the wait,” she added, and I creased my forehead in confusion. “Oh, did you hear that? It must be your dad,” Mrs. Na said upon hearing noise from the garage. “You keep eating, I’ll go greet his workaholic ass,” she excused herself with a playful smile before walking away from the table to welcome her husband as any loving wife would.

With a deep sigh, Jaemin leaned toward me, resting his arm on my chair.

“It’s not that bad, actually. I was excepting to go through some kind of FBI-level of interrogation, but she seems kind of chill about this whole thing,” Jaemin whispered into my ear, and I giggled, agreeing with him. It was kind of suspicious, but I couldn’t complain.

“It’s kinda creepy when she’s talking like she’s been rooting for us to end up together, but this one thing aside, it’s bearable,” I replied, and Jaemin nodded his head.

“I am gone for a minute, and you’re all over each other,” Mrs. Na snickered when she returned to the dining room, seeing Jaemin leaned in, only inches apart from my face. “Jaemin, mama’s so proud,” she added before she walked around the room to set the plate for Mr. Na.

“Stop embarrassing me,” Jaemin whined, playing with the food on his plate, pouting. Though his mother pretty much ignored his childish tantrum, I chuckled, finding it absolutely adorable. Maybe she was a teaser, but little Jaemin knew, he inherited it from her. It was time he experienced the taste of his own medicine.

The apple doesn’t fall that far from the tree…

The rest of the afternoon went peaceful. Though Mrs. Na threw in some cheesy remarks here and there, we could handle it. We were slightly buzzed, after all.

“It’s time for us,” Jaemin announced as he heard a car parked in front of the house. “It was nice. We should totally do it again,” he sarcastically added when he reached for my coat and helped me put it on.

“Don’t have too much fun,” she added with a playful smirk upon her face, earning a judging look from her more conservative husband. “No, wait, I second that. Have as much fun as you want. I am a cool parent,” she spoke, changing her mind in a matter of seconds. “And I plan on becoming a cool grandparent.”

At first, I wanted to remind her that we’re too young for children. Besides, technically, we only went on one date. It was definitely too soon to even think about these things, let alone talk about them out loud.

Thankfully, before I managed to say something I’d regret, Jiwoo honked, urging us to get going. If it wasn’t for her impatience, I might’ve ruined the image I had built for myself in Jaemin’s parents’ eyes.

“Your mother was joking! Always use protection,” Mr. Na hollered before he closed the doors after us.

***

Except for a few playful comments shot toward Jaemin and me, the ride was peaceful. As soon as we threw our suitcases into the trunk and squeezed in on the backseat, we hit the road. Jamming to Jiwoo’s playlist, we chatted in excitement, all of us in desperate need of a little vacation. It was a stressful time of a year, but maybe this short trip would actually help us recharge the batteries and calm down after busting our asses off.

“How was the dinner?” Jiwoo asked, staring at us in the rearview mirror. Since there was a limited amount of space, I was almost sitting on Jaemin’s laps. Jiwoo didn’t miss it with her eagle eyes. The way Jaemin played with my fingers didn’t go unnoticed, either.

“Bearable,” I muttered under my breath, not really wanting to recollect these memories now. I’d probably tell Jiwoo everything later, and she understood the subliminal message in a heartbeat. “How was your test?”

“I probably failed, but, at least, now I know what to expect,” Jiwoo answered as she turned to the left as the navigation system instructed her to.

In about two hours, we arrived at our destination.

Having stepped into the cabin with our heavy luggage in our hands, we encountered the middle of the party. A handful of beer bottles were scattered around the living area, the boys fervently discussing some matter.

“You’re finally here,” Jaehyun spoke matter-of-factly, as he noticed us in the threshold. “Go upstairs and leave your stuff in your rooms. We’ve already assigned them; just read the post-it notes stuck to the doors,” he explained before he turned away.

Huh, apparently, they were pros at planning.

The guys rented a cabin that consisted of six tiny bedrooms. Generally, we wouldn’t have a problem assigning them; however, since Jaehyun, Lucas, and Johnny didn’t want to room with anyone, we were facing a dilemma. They guys wanted to have some privacy if they managed to pick someone up at the hotel in the neighborhood. In this case, the six of us had to share rooms. Jiwoo and Yeri could room together. Renjun and Chenle could occupy another one, so it looked like they put Jaemin and me in the last one.

Thankfully, it wouldn’t be the first time when I had to share a bed with Jaemin. He had stayed the night plenty of times before when he dozed off during our Netflix marathons. However, it still was to be a little bit awkward since everybody thought we began dating. We were going to pull through, though.

As soon as possible, we came back downstairs, ready to even the score of consumed alcohol. All of us needed it. Everybody had a different reason for it, but none of our troubles were to be discussed tonight.

In the fridge, there was a whole palette of different types of alcohol. Quickly, I grabbed two tequila-flavored beers, handing one to Jaemin, allowing others to choose their poison.

My plan for tonight was to test every kind of alcohol, gradually going up with the percentages. It was a bad idea, but that’s what college was about – having fun like there’re no consequences.

We partied like there’s no tomorrow.

At first, we kept it simple. Fervent conversations led us to shout at one another, trying to force one perspective over the others. We were going through so many subjects that any sober bystander might’ve had real trouble comprehending how we managed to switch among them.

Then, someone suggested playing a drinking game. Of course, it had to be never have I ever. Everybody had so much fun, especially when the participants yelled at Jaemin and me because we didn’t even bother to abide by the rules. We were sipping our drinks whenever we felt like it, even between rounds, and it didn’t sit right with the rest. Eventually, they kicked us out of their little circle, giving us the crucial task of bringing some snacks from the kitchen.

Sometime past midnight, Jiwoo proposed going outside. It was beautifully snowing, but at the same time, it was freezing. Though I was opposed to this idea, everybody seemed to love it. The guys were throwing snowballs at each other, bringing out their inner child.

As if this wasn’t enough, they decided to take a stroll to the seaside. Though our cabin was maybe a mile away from the seashore, I didn’t particularly fancy the saunter. Jaemin was by my side, offering to warm my hand in his pocket, but I still was on the verge of freezing my ass off. I’d much rather sit by the fireplace under a few blankets with a mug of the mulled wine in my grasp. Apparently, everybody besides me was really intrigued by an ice bath and other winter extreme sports.

Though it was dangerous as fuck, Jiwoo took off her shoes and rolled up her jeans before she walked into the ice water of the sea. Being the dumbass he was, Lucas instantly followed suit.

“They seem to hit it off tonight,” I nonchalantly whispered as I elbowed Jaehyun. Jiwoo and Jaehyun might have a thing going on, but neither of them acted on it. Jiwoo was too whipped to make a move, too afraid of rejection. Jaehyun, on the other hand, was just a fuckboy, not really looking for a relationship. “Look at them. Don’t they look cute?” I carried on, cautiously watching Jaehyun’s expression. They weren’t together, but he seemed slightly jealous and frustrated watching her have lots of fun with Lucas.

In my opinion, he didn’t deserve her, but I didn’t really have a say in that matter. Jaehyun was the person Jiwoo’s heart longed for, and I, being her best friend, had to support that. Or, in this case, I had to give him a little push to get things in motion.

Jaehyun had some feelings for Jiwoo, but he needed some time and character development to fully comprehend them. Until then, it was my duty to remind him what he’s missing out on by not being serious enough to ask her out.

“Nah, I wouldn’t call them cute,” Jaehyun murmured through gritted teeth, positively jealous. “What they’re doing is dangerous; somebody has to stop them,” he added before he kicked off his own shoes, running toward Jiwoo to pick her up and bring her back to the shore.

“What was that?” Jaemin asked, being shook as to what he had witnessed.

“What was what? What do you mean?” I smirked, winking at him, hoping he wouldn’t tell anyone about it. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You played him,” Jaemin spoke, still impressed by how easily I manipulated Jaehyun into stepping into the scene, pulling Jiwoo away from Lucas. “Is this even legal? You’ve never done this one me, have you?”

“No, of course, not! Don’t be ridiculous,” I answered, though my tone suggested a completely different message. “You would’ve known, wouldn’t you?” I teased, chuckling at Jaemin’s funny expression. He was mortified. “I think you’re overreacting. I just pointed out some facts, and Jaehyun reacted to them according to his emotional opinion. I really didn’t do anything,” I added, defending my case.

“Don’t you ever try pulling a trick like that on me, okay?” Jaemin stated, and I nodded, giving him a promise. “I mean… I wouldn’t fall for it, but still, don’t.”

“We should head back to the cabin,” Johnny shouted, gathering the gang. Surprisingly, he seemed the most sober amongst us, so it didn’t come as a shock to me that he tried to look after his hammered friends.

In my opinion, it was a perfect call. I was slowly sobering up, and I definitely needed a refill. With my schedule packed, I had no idea when I would have a chance for another getaway, so I had to make the most out of this one.

As we returned to the cabin, Jaehyun’s eyes didn’t leave Jiwoo.

Jaemin, on the other hand, went upstairs to grab his camera, deciding it was the best time to snap photos. Of course, he had to take pictures of us when we were drunk out of our minds. Why didn’t he take any when we looked decent without smudged make-up?

“Sexy,” Jaemin commented as he pointed his camera at me. “Ahh, sexy,” he kept calling me that, and I stuck my tongue at him, wanting him to go away pester someone else. My hair was a mess, and my lipstick smudged off my lips a long time ago. “So sexy,” he carried on, making me roll my eyes at him. At some point, I tried kicking him, but that bastard was beyond my reach.

Around 2 o’clock, one by one, we began feeling tired.

Lucas was the first one to go. Considering how much alcohol he had drunk, I was surprised he lasted that long. Better yet, it was a shock he could even stand straight. Jaemin and Renjun had to escort him upstairs, but nonetheless, his alcohol tolerance was impressive.

I didn’t even realize when, but Yeri and Chenle managed to fall asleep on the couch. Firmly, Renjun shook them away, ordering them to go to their respective rooms. With tired yawns, they made their way upstairs, falling on their beds face-first.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Jaemin pouted as he sat on the side of the armchair, resting his head on my shoulder. Entwining his hand in mine, he stood up, pulling me up.

“Have fun, guys. We’re calling it a night,” I announced, refraining from yawning.

“No, you have fun,” Jiwoo replied, sending us a wink. Shaking my head, I sighed before we disappeared upstairs. I don’t know what she was thinking; however, I didn’t have the energy to keep my eyes open, let alone other nighttime activities. Besides, Jaemin was just as spent. Even if we were in a real relationship, we wouldn’t engage in half-conscious unsatisfactory messy sex.

“Come here,” Jaemin whispered as he smiled. His eyes were already closed as he patted the mattress beside him, waiting for me to join. “Good job. I think we really sold it to everybody,” he added as he snuggled closer, wrapping his limbs around my body.

“That’s good,” I purred, slowly drifting into dreamland. It was a long day, and it was finally over. Though it had a rough beginning, I ended it in Jaemin’s arms. “Good night.”

“Good night, my love,” Jaemin muttered, resting his head on my pillow right beside my face.

“You were supposed to change that name,” I replied, too drunk or/and too tired to realize it was his spoken words and not a text message.

***

During the second week of our relationship, we grew to be less tense around each other. Better yet, we seemed awfully comfortable, almost as if that’s how everything was meant to be. It was a little bit alarming, but I decided not to point that out. Even if it was just an act, I enjoyed it much more than I’d ever dare to admit. As long as it lasted, I was to savor it.

Ever since we came back from the weekend trip, Jaemin would pop up out of nowhere at least once a day with a surprise for me, proving how over the top he could be in courting a woman.

On Monday, he spammed his social media feed with my pictures from the trip. Of course, he didn’t forget to put a corny description under it, making me flustered. Even though I wouldn’t consider myself photogenic, Jaemin managed to bring out my best features with his photography talent and editing skills.

On Tuesday, Jaemin was waiting outside the auditorium with a cute bouquet of my favorite flowers – white roses. He was there to congratulate me on passing my last exam of the semester. The professor would send us results by the end of the week, but according to Jaemin, there was no chance I’d fail it.

“I still don’t get it how you do it,” Jaemin mused, scratching his temple, trying to put two and two together. “I hardly ever see you study, but then, you panic before an exam only to nail it later on. What kind of black magic is this?” He wondered, and I giggled, unable to explain my poor studying technique. I just winged it last minute every single time in my academic career.

“You better be right about this one,” I replied, still anxious about my grade. I didn’t manage to answer all of the questions, so a passing grade would be a relief. “I’m craving pasta. Do you want t go on a celebratory date?”

“You’re reading my mind,” Jaemin said, grabbing my hand, leading me to our favorite restaurant.

On Wednesday, Jaemin invited me to a bowling alley. Every month he would visit the establishment with his friends. Only on rare occasions, their significant others were invited. None of them could really commit to a serious relationship, so it never became a repetitive custom of their group.

“You guys are disgusting,” Haechan whined after our turn. Jaemin and I were losing by an enormous margin, but we didn’t mind. We were having fun despite a low score. “But at least, we’re winning,” Haechan added, pointing at Chenle and himself.

“I am the winner here,” Jaemin boldly announced, giving my hand a light squeeze, making me almost spit my soda.

Everybody cringed at Jaemin’s bold corny statement.

“I second that,” Haechan mused, looking away from Jaemin. “She’s bearable, and you are just absolutely repulsive,” he corrected himself, and I chuckled. Never in my entire life, I thought I would agree on something with Haechan, but this moment occurred right then.

On Thursday, although my schedule was packed with work, Jaemin insisted on hanging out. Tired out of my mind, I let Jaemin inside the apartment. He was carrying Mexican takeout; I couldn’t send him back home. Not when he had goodies.

“What do you want to watch?” I asked as I handed him the remote, allowing him to choose the movie. I was going to pass out anyway, so he might’ve as well picked something he liked.

“Anything is good,” he answered as he unwrapped his quesadilla, taking a bite off of it.

“The Notebook it is then,” I teased, but since Jaemin didn’t stop me, I put it on.

Having eaten my portion of a delicious meal, I lay down on the couch, resting my head on Jaemin’s thighs. I didn’t even realize when I fell asleep. Only when the credits were rolling down on the screen, Jaemin shook me awake.

“When did you fall asleep?” Jaemin inquired, a little bit mad that I forced him to watch the ultimate romantic movie of the twenty-first century. It was toxic as hell, and the way their behavior got romanticized didn’t sit right with me.

“As soon as I lay down,” I answered honestly, as I rolled around, staring at Jaemin’s handsome face. “How did you like the movie?” I asked innocently, swiftly changing the topic. It was for the better if Jaemin didn’t find out I paid no attention to the film. Instead of a great viewing experience, it was just a mere background noise that lulled me to sleep.

“I didn’t,” Jaemin whined, tapping his foot against the floor, making me sit up instantly. “It was toxic and sad at the same time. Noah was a manipulative jerk, and Allie was moody as fuck. The only bright side of their relationship is that they ended up with each other, not ruining other people’s lives,” Jaemin spoke the truth, and I couldn’t agree more. “In conclusion, give me my 2 hours back,” he added, and I hit him with a cushion.

Unable to comprehend what I just did, Jaemin blinked in confusion. Then, a few seconds later, he smirked and grabbed another cushion, ready to fight back.

Unfortunately, our childish antics were interrupted by Jiwoo. She was hanging out with Yuta, studying for the exam they had to retake the next day. To be completely honest, she couldn’t have any worse timing. While watching a movie was explainable, it wasn’t the case when it came to an impromptu pillow fight.

“Should I come back later, or something?” Jiwoo asked, pointing at the doors, willing to leave if it meant for me to get laid.

“Nah, Jaemin’s leaving. I am trying to kick him out, actually,” I announced, sticking my tongue out.

On Friday, Jaemin and I planned on going to the arcade. Unfortunately, we had to raincheck that. One of Jaemin’s coworkers fell sick, and Jaemin had to take a double shift at the coffee shop in his neighborhood.

I already had canceled my other plans to hang out with Jaemin, so I didn’t really want to stay at home all by myself. It was a Friday night, after all. Surprising him at work seemed like a better idea. His friends liked hanging out there; therefore, it must’ve been an excellent excuse for a little bit of acting in order to keep up appearances.

Quickly, I assembled a cute outfit and put on light make-up.

About an hour before the closing, I entered the coffee shop. Except for a few students with their noses in their computers, the establishment was empty.

“Welcome to–,” Jaemin hollered, ready to welcome the customers. “Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?” He asked as a wide smile spread across his face, enjoying my surprise.

“I just came to surprise you,” I confessed, though none of us paid enough attention to the gravity of my words. I genuinely wanted to hang out Jaemin him as his girlfriend. “And I also wanted to get some discounted goodies. What do you have left?” I asked, looking over his shoulder, trying to see what food didn’t sell yet. An hour before the closing, everything on the menu was discounted by seventy percent, and I just couldn’t walk past that kind of deal.

“You’re not the only one who came for cheap stuff,” Jaemin commented as he saw Haechan and Renjun on the other side of the doors. “Take a seat, I’ll bring you your favorite,” he added, and I smiled at him, walking to the booth by the window.

Having finished my Greek sandwich, I focused on my cup of tea. I was scrolling through social media feed, giggling whenever I stumbled upon a funny meme. It was a perfect evening; complete relaxation in the rhythm of soft foreign jazz music playing through speakers, Jaemin checking up on me once every a couple of minutes.

“Oh, hi, there,” Haechan hollered as soon as he noticed me. He must’ve been returning to his table from a restroom. “I didn’t realize you’re here. What’s up?” We weren’t close, so his question was more like a polite generic statement rather than genuine curiosity.

“I’m waiting for Jaemin to finish, so we can hang out at my place,” I answered, hoping Haechan would get the suggestive tone.

“Actually, there’s something you should know,” he said quietly, looking around, probably checking if Jaemin was within earshot. “I am so ashamed it happened, but I really have to tell you something,” Haechan added, and I couldn’t wait for him to reveal the secret.

Haechan was playing dirty. He wanted to tell me about the bet, ruining Jaemin’s chance at getting me to sleep with him. It was some top-tier double-crossing, and I found it impressive. I had no clue Haechan had it in him.

“We shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know why we even agreed to this,” Haechan added, scratching the back of his head, trying to sound genuinely regretful. “I think Jaemin’s not genuine about the thing you have going on. You see, we made a bet. He has to have sex with you, or else he owes Chenle 500 bucks.”

“What?!” I exclaimed, hoping my consternation was believable. At first, I felt the temptation to say something along, yeah, I know, what’s new, but then I decided to play along. It was actually a good idea to make it seem like Jaemin’s about to lose the bet. Knowing them, they wouldn’t call it off. If anything, Jaemin could double the stakes. “No, it can’t be true. Jaemin would never –“

Now, it was my cue to make a scene. Hopefully, it would play out exactly like in my impromptu prediction.

Reaching the stage of fake hysteria, I rose from my seat and stormed to Jaemin. He was energetically wiping off the tables, wanting to leave shortly after the last customer.

“Is that true? Did you really make a bet you can have sex with me?” I yelled at him through gritted teeth. Jaemin, on the other hand, was confused as fuck. “Did you really think you could get away with it? You disgust me!” I shouted, slapping his cheek. “Don’t ever call me again,” I added before I turned on my heel, storming out of the coffee shop.

Being the only employee at work, Jaemin couldn’t run after me.

Jaemin deserved an explanation. I had to fill him in on my wonderful plan before he would blow it in front of Renjun and Haechan.

my love 💖 | 20:46 | play along

my love 💖 | 20:46 | trust me

my love 💖 | 20:47 | kick them out pls

baNANA 🍓 | 20:47 | wtf???

baNANA 🍓 | 20:48 | that hurt

baNANA 🍓 | 20:48 | I didn’t have to kick them out

baNANA 🍓 | 20:49 | they ran out a few seconds after you

my love 💖 | 20:49 | good

baNANA 🍓 | 20:49 | what the hell is going on???

baNANA 🍓 | 20:50 | I am confused

my love 💖 | 20:50 | Haechan ‘told’ me about the bet

my love 💖 | 20:50 | he wanted to double cross you

baNANA 🍓 | 20:51 | what???

my love 💖 | 20:51 | so the plan is

my love 💖 | 20:51 | they know you don’t stand a chance

my love 💖 | 20:51 | so you double the stakes

my love 💖 | 20:52 | and then bam! we win double the money

baNANA 🍓 | 20:52 | wow

baNANA 🍓 | 20:52 | you’re a genius

my love 💖 | 20:53 | I know

my love 💖 | 20:53 | and since I’m acting like I’m not talking to you

my love 💖 | 20:53 | bye

my love 💖 | 20:54 | see you @ the party!

***

Everything went according to my plan. The guys thought I was pissed with Jaemin, while Jaemin still tried to convince them he stands a chance to court me. It was kind of ironic, they wanted to play me, but it was them getting played.

Together with Jiwoo and Ten, we came extra early to Jaehyun’s party. Still being stuck in friendzone, Jiwoo went out of her way to help him out. Today it meant setting up all types of decorations all over the fraternity house and preparing different kinds of snacks.

Around seven, an Uber pulled up in front of our building. Not to brag, but despite the limited amount of time, we managed to dress up to the nines.

I decided to keep it simple. My outfit consisted of a pair of skinny high-waisted black jeans, a long-sleeved sequin embellished crop top, and a pair of ankle-high boots.

Jiwoo, on the other hand, was wearing a two-piece baby pink dress and a pair of massive mid-thigh black leather platform combat boots. She looked fierce, like a weird baby of 90’s Britney Spears and Marilyn Mason.

Though Ten’s outfit looked the most effortless, it took him longer than us to put it together. Having thrown every single thing from his closet on the bed, Ten experienced a mild crisis. Even though he looked gorgeous in everything, he didn’t seem to believe us. Only after the off-hand intervention, he agreed to play it cool with a pair of ripped jeans, a black shirt with three top buttons left untouched, and an oversized leather jacket.

Once we arrived at Jaehyun’s fraternity, nothing was ready. Thankfully, it wasn’t my problem. Jiwoo was the one who volunteered to help out. Ten and I were about to vibe in the corner, letting other people arrange the place according to Jaehyun’s vision.

Trying our best not to disturb others, Ten and I watched the way the smelly fraternity sex mansion turned into a festive valentine’s manor.

“I hope she’s gonna get laid today,” I whispered into Ten’s ear, looking at Jiwoo working like a busy bee around the house.

“She better; that’s really painful to look at,” Ten agreed, looking a little bit disappointed. Jiwoo was at Jaehyun’s beck and call, and it was about time he acknowledged her feelings.

Around nine o’clock, it was getting a little bit crowded.

Music was blasting through the speakers. Some of the fratboys were already looking for their next conquest. Girls were dancing on a makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living area, suggestively swaying their hips, teasing whoever was watching with their sexy moves.

Later on, when I was in the middle of my fourth drink of the night, Jaemin finally showed up. Together with Haechan, Jeno, Renjun, and Chenle, they walked through the threshold. They all looked great, but Jaemin stood out in the crowd. After all, he was the only one to put on a suit jacket over his white T-shirt. While the rest rocked the comfortable outfits, Jaemin opted for a more elegant look.

Almost as if he wanted to impress someone. Or at least, apologize properly, trying every sly trick to make me forgive him.

Upon entrance, his eyes searched me in the crowd, and when he met my gaze, a smile stretched across his face. Shyly, he raised his hand, wanting to wave at me, but since I stubbornly turned my head around, playing my role of offended woman, he lowered it.

“I’ve seen an ATM on our way here,” Renjun commented, knowing Jaemin didn’t stand a chance of winning the bet.

“It won’t be necessary,” Jaemin replied, following me with his gaze. “I didn’t lose it yet,” he added, and the guys laughed at him. There was no way he still thought he could woo me. “I still have a few hours left; I am not going to give up.”

“You’re such a loser,” Jeno interjected as regret washed through him. Although he didn’t actively participate when the bet was placed, he didn’t oppose it. He was an idle bystander, allowing other people to ruin our friendship. It didn’t sit right with him, but it was too late. The damage was already done, and Jaemin was going to embarrass himself even further. “She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin started, but he refused to explain how exactly it was like.

“You’re still gonna fail,” Haechan added with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. Back at the coffee shop, he ruined Jaemin’s chance for success. “Hey there, beautiful,” Haechan spoke when his attention was snatched by one of the girls who walked past them.

Once the boys divided to greet other friends, Jaemin strolled to the kitchen. I was there, and he needed to initiate the first step of our plan.

Sincere apology.

“Can we talk?” Jaemin whispered as he reached out to grab my hand, interrupting my conversation with Ten and Yeri. “Let me explain. You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to listen to me,” he asked, and I unwillingly complied, letting him lead me toward an abandoned corner in the living area. No one could hear us talk, but at the same time, everybody could see us.

“What do you want, Jaemin,” I barked, folding my arms across my chest, startling myself with how good I managed to behave like an angry ex-girlfriend. Though it was my last semester, maybe I should change my major to professional acting.

“Wow. You’re too good at this,” Jaemin commented before he proceeded with his part. “Anyway, I made this card for you. I hope it finds you well,” he announced before he pulled an envelope out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

Cautiously, I took the valentine’s card out of the envelope. Once I saw the front page, I couldn’t help but laugh. Jaemin must’ve done it himself, or he stole it from Jeno’s four-year-old niece. It was all covered in hearty stickers and glitter.

Jaemin definitely wasn’t a poet. He had never stood next to one, either.

Instead of a heartfelt apology and love confession, there was a short corny message which simultaneously made me cringe and chuckle.

Are you a ba-NANA? Cause I find you a-peeling.

From Your Love

P.S. it’s from me, your Jaemin

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” I spoke, shaking my head, trying my best not to grin. I was supposed to hate him, but it was too difficult. “I am gonna walk away now. Approach me once you raise the stakes.”

Although I didn’t want to party without Jaemin by my side, it was what I had to do. Having sent him a faint smile, I turned around and walked away, giving Jaemin some time to initiate part two of our plan.

Having drunk a few fancy shots Ten had made for me, we hit the dance floor. At first, we just jumped in the rhythm. However, when the DJ played the song we had practiced at the dance studio, everybody stepped to the side, making enough room to let us perform the choreography.

With alcohol coursing in my system, my moves weren’t as precise as usual – they still earned a round of applause.

“Hey, hey, hey, are you having fun?” Drunk as a skunk, Jaehyun shouted through the microphone connected to the DJ’s console. “How about we slow up the tempo?” Jaehyun yelled, and everybody cheered, making a lot of noise. “Tonight’s the love festival, and I, the valentine’s boy, specifically request every find a person to slow dance with.”

Having set the microphone aside, Jaehyun pushed DJ away from the console, putting on his Cigarettes After Sex playlist. The first song which graced our ears was Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You.

“Can I have this dance?” Jaemin appeared out of nowhere by my side, extending his hand for me to take. “Please?” He looked into my eyes, waiting for my response, looking hopeful.

As soon as I nodded, Jaemin grabbed my hand and gently pulled me against his firm body, resting his left hand on my back, holding me still, making sure I’d not run away. With my head resting against his chest, we swayed slowly, getting lost in our little world.

“They think I am a terrible person,” Jaemin whispered into my ear, his breath tickling my skin. “They seriously think I’d try to ruin our friendship with this bet,” he carried on, and I hummed, taking an inhale, getting hit with Jaemin’s musky cologne.

The boys truly underestimated the power of our friendship. Jaemin and I told each other almost everything. It was bold of them to assume I had no idea about the bet.

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied as I had closed my eyes, getting lost in the moment. “Everything will come back to normal soon enough,” I added, trying to ignore the bittersweet taste of my statement. Our fake relationship had an expiration date, and it was near.

“You’re right. Everything will come back to normal,” Jaemin repeated my words as he rested his chin on top of my head, pulling me even closer. “You’re the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had,” he added, pressing an innocent peck against my hairline.

“How many fake girlfriends have you had?” I asked, chuckling, sounding a bit jealous.

“Anyway,” Jaemin started, trying to change the subject. “The guys took the bait. And now, judging by the stupid looks on their faces, they’re shitting their pants.”

“Once the song is over, we should initiate the third phase of our plan,” I commented, wanting to be over with this. In about a minute, I was about to pull Jaemin out of the dance floor and lead him to the bathroom upstairs, where we would do the deed.

When another song from Jaehyun’s playlist echoed in the room, all the other couples kept dancing. Jaemin and I, on the other hand, were about to not so discreetly sneak upstairs.

Unfortunately, we met an obstacle on our path.

It was Jaehyun, pointing his phone at our faces.

“It’s a kiss cam. Do what you gotta do,” he spoke, and I creased my forehead in utter confusion. What the hell was he doing? What the hell was a kiss cam? It was a frat party, not a baseball match. Didn’t he have a beer pong championship to win or something?

“What?”

“Do I really have to explain this to everyone? Jesus,” Jaehyun complained, taking a deep sigh, trying to ease his irritation. “It’s Valentine’s day! I am Valentine’s boy! And this is a kiss cam. You kiss, and I take pictures,” he explained, but I wasn’t convinced. “Hurry up! I have to take like 50 more of them.”

At first, I didn’t want to do it. But then, a thought crossed my mind. Who would believe Jaemin and I had sex if I refused to give him a kiss. It was just one kiss; it wouldn’t hurt.

Having licked my lips, I smiled at Jaemin before I wrapped my hands around his neck, giving him a chaste smooch. It lasted maybe a few seconds, but it still made me uneasy. Even if it was just a brief peck, it was too much for my poor heart.

“What the fuck was that?” Jaehyun groaned in disappointment. “One more time, guys. That’s how you kiss your mother, not your girlfriend. You can do better.”

“Show him how it’s done, Jaemin,” I encouraged him, giving him permission to assault my lips, hoping it would happen to be one hell of a performance.

Having smirked, Jaemin leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against mine. Cautiously, he deepened the kiss, knocking the air out of my lungs, making my legs shake under my weight. His hands held my chin in place as his tongue slipped through my lips.

Out of a sudden, nothing else mattered. Jaemin and I were in our bubble, and despite it being a one-time thing, I wished it lasted forever. Whatever expectations I had about this moment, it wasn’t even close to reality.

Jaehyun cleared his throat, wanting to pull us out of our trance. In vain, though. I moved my lips against Jaemin’s in slow sync, letting the sweet sensation strip me of the last remains of dignity. I was to savor every second of it, basking in bliss.

“Ekhem,” Jaehyun grunted, starting to feel a little bit flustered. “You guys done?”

Once we broke apart to take a breath, Jaehyun spoke again.

“Have you seen Jiwoo, by the way?”

“Yeah, I think she went for a smoke with Lucas,” I answered casually, watching panic display on Jaehyun’s face. It was evident he didn’t fancy the newfound information. “She went outside like half an hour ago, though. I wonder what it takes them so long,” I added, planting another grain of doubt in his subconscious.

As soon as anxiety downed on him, Jaehyun bolted outside. He better, though. If Jaehyun wasn’t going to make a move on Jiwoo tonight, I was about to find another guy to ship her with.

“You did it again,” Jaemin pointed out, and I just shrugged, dismissing his comment. So what? One push in the right direction wasn’t enough for Jaehyun to grow up, so I decided to be generous enough to give him a second chance.

“Are you ready for phase three?” I asked Jaemin, but before he managed to reply, I grabbed his hand, pulling him across the dance floor. Giggling, I ran through the sea of people, not so accidentally bumping into Chenle, almost spilling his beer.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” I hollered, giggling. Now, when I had Chenle’s attention, we could sneak upstairs to proceed with the final step of our plan. “Come on, Jaemin, let’s go. I am horny,” I added, probably overdoing my part. Unfortunately, the words were already spoken. I couldn’t take them back.

Having locked the bathroom doors behind us, I jumped onto the countertop. “Don’t you think it’s a bit creepy they’re gonna eavesdrop on us bang? It’s kinda off-putting, you know…”

When Jaemin wanted to speak, somebody knocked on the doors. It must’ve been one of Jaemin’s friends, checking if we were indeed fucking. “It’s occupied,” Jaemin hollered, mentioning for me to start my performance.

“Fuck, Jaemin! Eat me out, already,” I yelled, pressing my hands against my mouth, trying to stifle my laugher. This situation was ridiculous, and I couldn’t help myself but giggle. I had only a few drinks, yet I felt like I was high as a kite. “Yes, like that! Ahhh…”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight hole,” Jaemin played along, almost dying of alcohol-induced tittering. We were definitely having too much fun.

“Right there, Jaemin!” I screamed, holding my stomach as it began aching due to excessive cackling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there,” I moaned loudly, kicking my head back. “Don’t tease me, please!”

“I gotta get you ready for my cock, love,” Jaemin growled, and I gasped, my mind conjuring the forbidden image®.

“Just fuck me! I need your cock inside of me now!” I groaned, hoping whoever was on the other side of the doors heard enough of what was going inside. “Mmmm… you stretch me out so well…” I purred, almost falling off the counter when another round of uncontrollable laughter tried to erupt from my throat.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight.”

“Jaemin! Fuck, I am close. Keep going,” I yelled, mentally preparing for the big finale. This whole act was a vocal performance, and it was time I finished. “I’m coming! Come with me!”

“It was spectacular,” Jaemin whispered so only I could hear him. “I have one more favor, though,” he added, shying away. Oh no, he was about to ask about something stupid.

“What is it?”

“It could’ve been some random dude,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head, unsure how to voice his supplication. “Give me your panties. It’ll be the definite proof.”

“You’re joking,” I deadpanned, staring into his eyes, waiting for him to say it was just a harmless prank. “You’re serious,” I added as soon as I realized Jaemin meant it.

“Come on, I won’t be sniffing them,” Jaemin nagged, and I rolled my eyes. I didn’t even think about it, but now that he mentioned it, I had another reason not to comply with his weird-ass request. “I’ll give them back, I promise.”

“I can’t believe I am considering this,” I cursed under my breath. If any other person would like such a favor from me, I’d deny it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, I had a soft spot for Jaemin, so denying him didn’t come easy to me.

Hell, I wouldn’t be here if I was able to say no to him.

“You owe me big time,” I caved in, jumping off the countertop, stepping behind the shower curtain, providing myself with some privacy. “Don’t peek. Even if I slip, you gotta stay on the other side. Got it?” I added as I stuck my head through the curtain.

“Scout’s honor,” Jaemin pledged, and I rolled my eyes. He was a scout for maybe a week. His honor didn’t mean shit.

Clumsily, I took off my shoes and jeans. “Here,” I warned before I threw my panties over the curtain. “I am too sober for this,” I nagged, trying to put my skinny jeans back on.

“Let’s do celebratory shots!” Jaemin suggested, balling up my undergarments, hiding them in his pocket. “We deserve it,” he added, landing me a helping hand when I was stepping out of the shower.

“Let’s go.”

***

Needless to say, Jaemin won the bet.

Unfortunately, it meant the inevitable end of our fake relationship. It was fun when it lasted, and though I’d miss these times, it was time to set the record straight.

As we had discussed, we had to arrange our break up.

Sometime next week, Jaemin stopped by to give me half of the prize. Since the boys had been stupid enough to fall for our little charade, I received a large sum of money. It was Chenle who sponsored the prize. Because of that, I didn’t feel particularly sorry about deceiving them. After all, Chenle was so loaded; he wouldn’t notice if he lost that kind of money on the street. I could finally buy these shoes which I had been dreaming of for so long! Better yet, I'd still have some money left to spoil myself some more.

“How should we do it?” Jaemin asked quietly. Ever since he came, he avoided my gaze, staring at the floor.

“I don’t know,” I unwillingly answered. This conversation was the last thing I wanted to do right now, but it had to be done. Better sooner or later, before I’d catch some real feelings for Jaemin. I had no idea how I would pick up the pieces of my broken heart if we kept this act any longer. “Let’s just delete all posts we published. Someone will figure out something’s wrong, and when they spread the word, we’ll explain we decided to remain friends.”

Maybe I wasn’t in tears, but I felt regret wash through me. Though our relationship had never been a real thing, it felt like it.

And it hurt.

“Alright then,” Jaemin complied, rubbing his hands against his thighs before he pulled out his phone to erase any digital footprint of our brief romance. His thumb hovered over the delete button for a while. After a few moments of hesitation, when he didn’t hear any sign of protest from my side, he pressed it, sending our memories to a bottomless void. “And it’s gone.”

“Are we cool?” I asked, hoping that nothing would change between us. I had a hunch it would take me some time to get used to how things had been before the relationship fiasco. Nonetheless, I still had hope we could remain best friends without any awkwardness.

“Of course,” Jaemin answered with a faint smile, but I didn’t fully believe him. Something was off, and it bothered us. Shame that none of us dared to begin this topic.

After he left that day, we saw each other very seldom. We barely even spoke to one another. If it wasn’t for the group chats we were both in, we wouldn’t talk at all.

Jaemin had said we were cool, but it was evident we weren’t.

It was eating me from the inside out, but whenever somebody asked me about the break-up, I’d always shrug it off, confirming everything’s great. I would tell our friends nothing changed between us. There was nothing wrong; our schedules are just incompatible these days.

When I had pretended I was in a relationship with Jaemin, it was easy. It came naturally, and everyone ate it up without any second thoughts. Unfortunately, now, when I was trying to play it cool, no one seemed to buy it. Thankfully, they didn’t confront me about it. Instead, they offered me their support if I ever needed anything.

In my head, I had a few wild scenarios in which I tell Jaemin we should date for real. However, at the same time, a little devil on my shoulder was telling me it should never leave the realm of fantasy. It’s ridiculous to think Jaemin would reciprocate my feelings.

I felt as if sadness took over my body. Though I was smiling on the outside, I was filled with regret. Barely anything sparked joy these gloomy days. Even this pair of shoes, which I wanted so badly, didn’t stir any positive emotion. I bought them, but I never took them out of the box.

Jiwoo had taken me out on a few girls’ nights to make me feel better. Men are trash – she would always say when Jaehyun ignored her yet another text. Even though they had fucked each other at Jaehyun’s birthday party and agreed to become exclusive, Jaehyun still had lots of problems committing to a monogamous relationship. They hadn’t officially labeled it, but everyone knew Jaehyun was slowly caving in.

Fratboys’ habits die hard, but Jaehyun was finally shaping himself into boyfriend material. He no longer slept around, as far to my knowledge at least, but he still lacked in some departments. For instance, it would take him way too much to text back.

“You were so adorable together,” Jiwoo began after she gulped down another rum and coke. Despite her high alcohol tolerance, she was already drunk, speaking with no filter. “I mean… you were simping for him for so long, and you finally managed to jump that dick.”

“Your point being…” I inquired, finishing my drink. Though Jaemin and I had never had sex, I didn’t want to admit that. What would Jiwoo thought if I told her it was all-pretend?

“I shipped you guys so hard,” Jiwoo confessed. “Ten shipped you too, but he will never admit that,” she added, and I giggled. Now, that was an interesting take. Ten was so random at many aspects of life; it came to me as a surprise he even had an opinion on my relationship with Jaemin. “Can I just take some duck tape and put my ship back together?”

“I am not sure Jaemin would like that,” I answered with a sigh, my mood instantly decreasing.

“Nonsense,” Jiwoo replied in a heartbeat. “This guy is even worse than you,” she revealed, and I rolled my eyes, not buying this. At least a few times a week, at my lowest moments, I happened to check Jaemin’s social media updates. He didn’t seem to mope around at all.

“I find it hard to believe,” I muttered, trying not to get too emotional.

“I mean it,” Jiwoo confirmed her previous statement, eager to explain her thesis. “Jaehyun and I went on a little date to the coffee shop where Jaemin works,” she started, and I nodded, not really sure what she was getting at. Nonetheless, I let her continue. I was curious what Jaemin had been up to. And since he didn’t seem to want to tell me anything himself, I’d accept any type of second-hand information from Jiwoo. “Jaemin misses you. You have no idea how many times I caught him daydreaming. He still has your photo set on his lock screen, and he stares at it a lot.”

Now, that’s interesting.

I had no recollection of Jaemin ever setting my photo as his background picture. Even if Jiwoo was right, it meant he set after we had broken up. It made no sense at all, and I was too drunk to try to comprehend the meaning of this.

Instead, I ordered another round, trying to stifle all the brooding emotions within me.

***

February was the month of parties. Too many birthdays fell during this hectic period, and I had trouble keeping up with them. Fortunately, Ten’s party was the last one of the month. After a small get together at our place, I’d have some time off to relax by myself, most preferably, without alcohol.

Being the semi-hosts with Jiwoo, it was our duty to help Ten organize everything regarding his party. Though our trio was a little bit disorganized, somehow, we managed to get everything ready before anyone arrived.

Maybe it wasn’t comparable to birthday parties at fraternity houses; it still had its charm. It wasn’t as wild, but guests still were having a great time in the company of their closest friends. However, what was the most important, Ten had a blast.

It was his day; he deserved everything he wanted.

Trying my best not to embarrass Ten, I decided to socialize with his friends.

It was time I move on. It took me way too long to mourn a relationship that wasn’t even real. I couldn’t let my brooding mood ruin the party.

“Hmm… Ten has never mentioned you before,” I confessed, not finding it particularly odd. Ten didn’t have secretive nature; he just wasn’t the type of person to over-share. And he often forgot to even mention stuff about his personal life.

“I can’t say I am surprised,” Hendery replied, making me giggle. It was fun chatting with him. Hendery was hilarious, and he knew many secrets regarding Ten. It was my mission to get as much information from him as it was possible. I would need it for blackmailing purposes, of course.

Hiding out in the kitchen, we sipped beer and exchanged rumors as if we were two gossip girls. It was too entertaining to stop. I was incredibly immersed in the conversation; I didn’t even realize when someone tapped my shoulder.

“Can we talk?” I heard the question, recognizing the voice in an instant. It belonged to Jaemin, and it seemed to be laced with both jealousy and irritation. The way he phased his plea gave me flashbacks of the conversation we had at Jaehyun’s party.

I really wanted to continue my discussion with Hendery, but I couldn’t say no to Jaemin. It wasn’t how my brain was programmed. Besides, I missed him a lot.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” I told Hendery before I grabbed Jaemin’s hand, leading him to my room, locking the doors behind us.

“Nothing was supposed to change,” Jaemin started as he sat at the edge of my bed, leaning forward with his upper body propped on his elbows. His gaze was trained on the floor, too frustrated to look up at me.

“I know,” I whispered as I sat down in my chair on the other side of the room. My first instinct was to kneel in front of Jaemin, kiss his forehead, and assure him that everything’s going to be alright.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like a good idea, so I refrained from doing so. “I am sorry, it’s my fault.”

“Don’t,” Jaemin interjected before I embarrassed myself even further. “We’re both at fault.”

Despite the loud party noises coming from the other side of the doors, my bedroom was filled with deafening silence. It was awfully uncomfortable, and it was probably a good thing. One of us would get annoyed eventually and cave in, letting out all the bottled up emotions.

“I missed you,” I admitted, staring at my hands. I was all fidgety, and although I was too embarrassed to reveal my inner feelings, Jaemin deserved to know this much.

“I missed you, too,” he genuinely confessed, showing me a shy smile. “Actually, I missed you more than I thought it was possible to miss a person,” Jaemin carried on, and I held my breath, not ready to hear whatever he had to say. “You have no idea how much I wanted to text you or call you, but ultimately decided not to because I was sure you don’t want me to.”

“Jaemin,” I spoke, not really sure what I should say next. I had too many things I wanted to tell him about. However, now when he was here, I couldn’t properly voice my thoughts.

“Are you dating this guy you were talking to in the kitchen?” Jaemin asked out of the blue, catching me off guard with this random accusation. “Or do you want to date him? You two looked like you’re having a great time together,” he added, and I rolled my eyes. At first, Jaemin acted on his jealously, but then, insecurity crept in.

“I don’t know. I met Hendery today, but he seems like a great guy,” I answered honestly, thinking of possibilities of me trying to pursing something of romantic nature with Hendery. After our brief encounter, I could tell he’s fun to be around. And honestly speaking, I might’ve considered dating him if I hadn’t already had feelings for someone else.

Unfortunately, right now, I wasn’t in the right state of mind to date. Not when I was still hung up on my best friend.

“I probably won’t, though. I like somebody else,” I confessed, gaining Jaemin’s interest. Instantly, he sat up, staring into my eyes, patiently waiting for the reveal. “I am stupid, but I like this one guy. He’s such a jerk, I can’t even… he’s been ghosting me for weeks now,” I carried on, hoping Jaemin would get the hint.

Two weeks ago, we promised each other nothing would change. Despite our good intentions, it did. Even though I hadn’t told Jaemin how I really felt, I still lost my best friend.

My silence didn’t save this friendship. I tried to bottle up my emotions to secure our unbreakable bond. It didn’t work, so I figured confessing my feelings wouldn’t do any more harm. Surely, Jaemin was going to reject me, but at least, I’d clear the air between us.

Hopefully, my confession, followed by a harsh rejection, would help me move on.

Instantly, Jaemin ran up to my chair and knelt in front of me, trying to look into my eyes. “Please tell me this jerk is me,” Jaemin urgently spoke, unable to handle any more suspense. Jaemin’s gaze was hopeful, and it was too much for me to comprehend.

“What?” I asked, still being overwhelmed by confusion. What was going on? Why was Jaemin on his knees in front of me? Nothing made sense. How was I supposed to wrap my head around it? “I mean… yeah, it’s you. Who else could it be?”

“You have no idea how sorry I am,” Jaemin confessed as he grabbed my hand and yanked me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me, giving me a tight hug. “You could’ve said something… anything,” he added as he pulled back his head, placing a chase kiss against my forehead.

“I didn’t want to scare you away,” I admitted quietly, unable to break free from Jaemin’s cone-crashing embrace. I couldn’t believe he was so close. Na Jaemin was holding me in his arms, letting me listen to his rapid heartbeat.

“The worst two weeks of my life,” Jaemin spoke, once again breaking the silence. “It felt at least like two centuries,” he added, making me chuckle. Of course, it was an exaggeration, but it’s how I felt, too.

“How about we start over?” I proposed, taking a step backward to have a proper look at him. “Will you go on a date with me? This time around for real, no pretending,” I carried on, trying not to grin like an idiot.

“No.”

“What?”

What the fuck was that?

Did I misunderstand Jaemin’s words? I thought he felt the same, but apparently, he didn’t? Everything suggested he followed my flow only to crush my expectations, later on, leaving a big ass scar and more trust issues.

“I mean yes, but I should be me asking you out. Definitely not the other way around,” Jaemin clarified, making me relax. Thankfully, my mini panic attack was uncalled for. It was just my brain over-analyzing everything, conjuring the worst possible scenario.

“Then you better do your best to woo me,” I teased, wondering if he was willing enough to take the bait. It was just a mere joke, reminding me how it all began. He had wooed me once, and I wasn’t going to oppose to a second attempt. “Fun dates, romantic messages, silly gifts. I want it all,” I added, going a little bit overboard with my request list.

“Everything can be arranged,” Jaemin replied with a lopsided smile before he tightened his grip, almost crashing my bones in the process.

***

Jaemin and I began dating. This time around, it was real; no more pretending, no more stupid bets. Just two people who had discovered friendship could never be enough.

Even though I had told Jaemin I was just joking about this whole wooing thing, he refused to accept it, going to extreme lengths to make my heart flutter. I was already stupidly in love with him, yet he kept trying to make me swoon even more.

Despite our busy schedules, we made sure to see each other every day. It could’ve been a date at the arcade or just a quick coffee or a video call. In all honestly, I gladly accepted any form of contact from Jaemin.

I hated the prospect of going through a day without any message from him.

Except for many mini and maxi dates, Jaemin would also spoil me with plenty of encouraging notes of many kinds. Each massage from Jaemin was even sillier from the previous one. He never ceased to amaze me.

At first, Jaemin would stick post-it notes in different places in my room. Whenever I paid no attention, he would quickly write one for me to find it later. Whenever I saw sleep tight message stuck to my bedpost or you looked extra sexy today attached to the mirror, I smiled like an idiot, imaging Jaemin writing it.

If Jaemin forgot about post-it notes, he would always make it up to me by sending me corny direct messages. We would always text each other before sleep, and Jaemin never failed to make me smile with words such as:

If you happen to have wet dreams of me, you gotta tell me everything that happened. We can recreate it later.

I saw some sexy lingerie on my way home. Your ass would look amazing in it. I’m gonna buy it for you when I get my paycheck.

You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. Just kidding, I have to pee.

Whenever we went out, Jaemin would also scribble something either on a napkin or on a receipt. One time, Jaemin even gave a crumbled piece of paper that he was carrying in his pocket for some reason.

You know I’d give you my kidney, right? And a piece of the liver if you ask nicely. I hope you would do the same for me.

When we have kids, I’ll let you name the first one. Don’t fuck it up.

You’re my favorite pain in the ass.

You are stuck with me. You better get used to it.

Messy notes weren’t sufficient for Jaemin. Although I was more than content with the attention and affection he was giving me, it wasn’t enough for Jaemin. With each massage, he had to out-do himself.

Jaemin even wrote me a song! Or at least, he tried to write me a song. It was really bold of him to assume I didn’t know the lyrics to Jonas Brothers’ Sucker. I loved this song, and even though I perfectly knew it wasn’t Jaemin’s piece of work, I still appreciated the gesture.

Later on, his love letters reached another level of ridiculousness. Jaemin sent me a love e-mail, and if that doesn’t prove how extra he can get, I don’t know what can.

Jaemin didn’t stop there. No, it was just a warm-up.

When I was checking the mailbox, I found a paper plane stuck in between bills. Jaemin must’ve put it there, probably after one of his frequent visits to my apartment. Though the paper plane was a little bit crumbled, I found it incredibly adorable. On its wing, it had “open me” written with Jaemin’s messy handwriting. Inside there was a corny message that turned my insides in absolute cringe.

Your wings already exist. All you have to do is fly.

A few days later, Jaemin gave me a CD with the love playlist he had made for me. Carefully, he had chosen our favorite songs and burned them on a disc. I had no means to actually play it, but I adored the gesture.

Jaemin’s creativity did not disappoint. At this point, he might send me a love letter via a fax machine, and I wouldn’t be surprised. There were no limitations to his imagination, and it was one of the many things I loved about him.

Neither of us dropped the L-bomb yet, but we really didn’t need to. Though that dreaded word has yet to be spoken, we perfectly knew how we felt about each other. We would do anything for one another; no doubt in that.

Having exceeded my expectations, Jaemin proved himself worthy of being my boyfriend. Or rather, he showed me he was way out of my league. When he was bending over backward, I was passively basking in the glory of Jaemin’s confessions. Relationships were about giving and taking, and it seemed our balance was off.

It was time we switched roles. It was only fair if I tried to creep my way into his heart the way he had been wooing mine.

As soon as I cleaned up the apartment and pampered myself a little bit, I pulled out my phone, quickly texting Jaemin. Hopefully, he wasn’t that busy.

my love 💖 | 18:12 | U want to come over?

baNANA 🍓 | 18:16 | 😏

baNANA 🍓 | 18:16 | You miss me???

my love 💖 | 18:17 | 🤡 🤡 🤡 🤡 🤡

my love 💖 | 18:17 | nvm forget I asked

baNANA 🍓 | 18:17 | 😧 😧 😧

baNANA 🍓 | 18:18 | I’ll be in an hour

baNANA 🍓 | 18:18 | want me to bring anything?

my love 💖 | 18:19 | nah, just get your cute butt over here

baNANA 🍓 | 18:19 | ?????

baNANA 🍓 | 18:19 | are you high??

baNANA 🍓 | 18:19 | should I be concerned?

Okay, I had an hour to prepare something for our impromptu date. It was fine; it was more than enough than I needed. The apartment was already clean, so I just had to whip something to eat and cool the bubbles.

For some reason, I felt in a celebratory mood. Whatever tempo Jaemin and I had, it worked in two week periods. We had fake-dated for fourteen days before we called it quits. Then, we didn’t talk to each other for two weeks. Tonight another period came by, and I wanted to celebrate it, hoping to break the unfortunate chain of bad luck.

The alcohol was already in the refrigerator. Having put on an apron, I opened all the cabinets around the kitchen, quickly analyzing the ingredients and what I can make out of them. It wasn’t much, but pasta would have to be enough.

It wasn’t a fancy dish, but I was made it with love, so Jaemin shouldn’t have any complaints. Pouring my emotions into the pasta was to make it extra flavorful.

When the sauce was slowly cooking on the stove, I decorated the table. I wanted to provide Jaemin with some high-end restaurant experience despite being in my cramped apartment. It was the best thing out of two words; we had all privacy in the world offered by a homely atmosphere, but at the same time, we would eat some beautifully garnished food.

Just when I was about to drain the pasta, someone knocked on the doors.

“Coming,” I hollered before I put the pot in the sink, wiping my hands on the apron before making my way to answer the doors. “Hey there, beautiful,” I greeted Jaemin with a playful remark, standing on my toes to press a brief smooch on his adorable lips. It took him off guard, but in some sense, he liked it.

“Hey, it’s my line,” Jaemin nagged when his hands found purchase on my hips, bringing me closer for another kiss since one was never enough. “What do you have there? It smells delicious,” Jaemin turned his head, trying to peek inside to see what surprise I had prepared for him.

“You know, just some carbs,” I answered vaguely, sending him a playful smirk, not wanting to ruin the surprise. I wanted him to sit down at the table and wait for me to bring the whole dish and pour us some cheap champagne.

Jaemin took off his shoes, kicking them to the side. A second later, he handed me his coat, and I put it on the hanger. Jaemin was wearing a pair of gray jeans and a mint oversized hoodie, and I drooled over this comfortable look. He didn’t have to try hard to impress me.

“Just wait here. I’ll be back in a sec,” I spoke when I guided Jaemin to the table, forcing him to sit down in the chair. Jaemin wanted to help me out in the kitchen, but I firmly refused. Tonight I wished to impress Jaemin; he didn’t have to move a finger.

“I know it’s not much, but I hope you’ll still like it,” I whispered when I put a plate in front of him. “Dig in,” I added as I sat on the other side of the table, carefully trying to pop the champagne bottle open. Though I hated doing it, too afraid of breaking something or hurting someone, tonight I wanted to try it.

“What’s the occasion,” Jaemin wondered as he fondly watched me fight with the bottle. “Do you need some help? You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Jaemin offered, genuinely concerned about my safety. However, I just turned around, wanting to finish it by myself.

It took me good five minutes to pop it. And when I finally did it, Jaemin gave me a round of pitiful applause, officially declaring it’s his job from now on.

“It was just painful to watch,” Jaemin playfully commented, and I kicked his shin under the table, showing him how much appreciated his remark was. “So… what’s the occasion?”

“Do I really need to have a reason to spoil my boyfriend?” I innocently asked, batting my eyelashes, and Jaemin smiled at the word boyfriend. We had never discussed labels, but it was self-explanatory we were in a loving relationship. “I figured it’d be nice to give you some more attention,” I absentmindedly added as I reached for my phone to play some soft EDM music through the Bluetooth speaker.

“Is that it?” Jaemin wondered, gazing into my eyes, searching for any ulterior motive I might have. “Are you sure you’re not trying to butter me up before you say something I may not like? What did you do?” Jaemin inquired, and I chuckled loudly.

“Calm down, Na,” I spoke, making Jaemin look up at me once again. I only called him by his surname when I was extra affectionate, so he was curious what I was going to say. “I just wanted to hang out with you. That’s all,” I confessed, but Jaemin scrutinized his eyes, not really buying my innocent talk. “Okay, fine. There’s one more thing.”

“What is it?” Jaemin inquired, grinning at me.

“Can’t you already tell? I am trying to woo my way into your pants, duh,” I confessed, and Jaemin choked on his champagne as he did not expect this wording. “Your heart! I meant to say into your heart,” I corrected when I realized my little Freudian slip. “Wait, no, screw it. I second that. I want to get into both.”

“You’ve already got into one,” Jaemin declared with a lopsided smirk pinned to his face. “But... if you don’t suspect it already, you’re welcome in both,” he added mischievously, taking a sip of his alcohol. I, on the other hand, looked away, feeling the heat in my cheeks.

“Good to know.”

“Where are Jiwoo and Ten by the way?” Jaemin wondered as he looked around the apartment, finding it suspicious they didn’t crash our date yet. Under typical circumstances, Jiwoo or Ten would haul another chair to the table and steal the food, third-wheeling our date.

“Ten is at the dance studio. He’s having a dance competition next week, so he goes there every time he has some free time to practice. And Jiwoo is with Jaehyun. He came here to pick her up a few hours ago. I don’t think either of them is coming home anytime soon,” I explained, smirking. We had the place to ourselves.

Finally, we could bask in each other’s company without any intrusive guests.

“I’d like to cheers to that,” Jaemin raised his glass, clinking it gently against mine.

Having eaten the food, we moved to the couch.

“What now?” Jaemin asked as he stretched his arm, resting it on the back of the couch right over my shoulders.

“I have one more surprise,” I announced before I jumped to my feet. “Wait a second,” I added before bolting to my bedroom.

“What is it?” Jaemin inquired, having no clue what else I could surprise him with. “What do you have there?” He pressed, tilting his head to the side, trying to see what I was hiding behind my back.

“Let’s take some pictures,” I announced in excitement, showing him my Polaroid camera. “I finally bought some film, and I really want our photo in my wallet,” I added as I plopped down onto the couch, resting my head against Jaemin’s chest. “You take it,” I ordered, handing him the camera. After all, he was the prodigy of photography. Besides, his hands were longer than mine.

“I think that’s more than enough,” Jaemin spoke after snapping the twelfth picture.

Having put the camera on the coffee table, he wrapped his arms around me. Jaemin pulled me on his laps, embracing me tightly, placing a round of pecks against my temple.

“Wait! One more thing,” I hollered, leaning forward to reach for the envelope which was lying on the coffee table next to our photos.

“You can’t say it’s the last thing and then bring another one. That’s not how it works,” Jaemin nagged, a little flustered that I managed to find another excuse when he wanted to cuddle. “Who are you? A fitness instructor? When you say it’s the last one, it should be the last one. You can’t come up with new ones every three minutes.”

“I promise it’s the last one,” I sat cross-legged on the couch beside him, handing him the envelope. Cautiously, he pulled the card out of it, and I looked at him, studying his expression in excitement.

“Annoyingly, I like you way more than I’d originally planned,” Jaemin read the cover of the card, smiling widely at the passive-aggressive message. “It’s already good, and I didn’t even read what you wrote inside,” he commented before he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “I don’t get it,” he added in confusion as he saw the blank page inside the card.

“It’s my love letter for you,” I clarified, but Jaemin was still clueless.

“It’s a blank page. You really have that little to say?” Jaemin asked, trying to make sense out of my card.

“That’s not how you were supposed to interpret that!” I yelled, climbing on his laps, wanting to tear the card out of his ungrateful hands. Unfortunately, Jaemin’s hands were longer than mine, so even when I was hovering over his thighs, I couldn’t reach it.

“How was I supposed to interpret that then?” Jaemin challenged, holding my hips, forcing them down on his laps.

“I wanted to write something meaningful, but I just couldn’t decide what. I have so many things I want to tell you, it wouldn’t even fit on the card,” I started, trying to find the best way to form a coherent sentence. “One way to interpret it is that you have to imagine it’s written in a very tiny font. Because I have so much to tell you, I wrote everything down, but you just can’t read it.”

“I like it,” Jaemin whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against my knuckles.

“Or you can say it’s blank because whenever I’m with you, my head is completely empty,” I added, chuckling at the corny confession. “Or you can assume there are no words to describe my feelings for you.”

“How is it possible that without writing anything, you managed to top all of my love letters?” Jaemin wondered, smiling at me. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

“No, Jaemin. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. I loved your love letters. They were silly, but at the same time, I could feel you really meant everything,” I reasoned, looking down at Jaemin’s lips, slowly leaning in for a delicate kiss.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Jaemin suddenly spoke as he grabbed my butt and threw me off his laps. “I need a pen,” he added, looking around the living room, finding the pen on the coffee table. In a hurry, he scribbled down something on the blank page of the card, making sure I couldn’t peek. “Here, I found my way to interpret it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Jaemin answered confidently, handing me the card. “Read it out loud for me.”

“Okay, I guess,” I cleared my throat before I opened the card. “My beloved Jaemin,” I read, looking at Jaemin’s face with a raised eyebrow. This was going to be good.

“Carry on,” he urged, and I shook my head, unable to believe I was going to do it.

“You’re the most handsome man I have ever seen. You’re also the smartest and the funniest. Not to mention, you’re the best kisser in the world. What the fuck is this?” I interjected, having doubts, knowing it was a bad idea.

“Just keep reading, babe,” Jaemin ordered, wanting me to carry on with his antics. “Though you’re no poet, it’s, by a huge margin, the best love letter I have ever received,” he added, blowing his ego way out of proportion, and I rolled my eyes.

“Now, when I look at you, I understand there’s not a chance I wouldn’t fall for you. So, since there’s not much space left, I just wanna tell you that I love you. I really love you, Jaemin.”

Before I managed to complain that he forced me to say the L-word first, Jaemin interjected.

“Finally, took you long enough,” he teased, and I sighed, wondering where to hit him first. “As if you haven’t figured it out yet, I love you, too.”

“You’re impossible,” I commented, still not quite sure if we just confessed to each other.

“I’m impossible not to fall in love with,” Jaemin corrected, once again hauling me back on his laps, taking my breath away with a fervent kiss. “How about you show me how you want to get into my pants, babe?”

Having had enough of Jaemin’s teasing, I decided not to comply with his request.

“I think you should go.”

“You’re right,” Jaemin agreed too quickly, and it made me alert. “Let’s go to your room because once I start pounding into you, I will not stop even if a group of nuns was about to break in and steal all of your shit,” he added as he picked me up, carrying me to my bedroom.

“You’re impossible,” I repeated my words when Jaemin threw me onto my bed before he landed on it right beside me.

“I think we’ve already discussed this,” he remarked, reminding me of the remark he had given me earlier. “So… where were we?” Jaemin asked as he put his hand on my side, pulling me closer. Soon enough, his palm slipped under the hem of my shirt, caressing my skin.

“Is it weird that the only thing I can think about is you eating me out?” I wondered out loud, stripped of all remains of dignity. Jaemin was in my bed, and I was planning on taking full advantage of it.

“Not at all, love,” Jaemin replied, showing me his eager smile. Quickly, he sat on his calves between my legs, taking his time to take off my jeans. “I thought about eating you out way too often ever since that thing in the bathroom,” Jaemin confessed as he threw my jeans across the room.

Though my panties were still on, Jaemin began his teasing. His soft lips trailed across my thighs, driving me crazy. His lips touched every inch of my skin except for the area I wanted the most. At this point, my panties were dripping wet, yet he didn’t even think of pulling them to the side, giving attention to my much-ignored core.

“You’re killing me,” I whispered, slowly losing patience. If Jaemin kept up with his antics, I’d combust out of sexual frustration. “Bold of you to assume I won’t let you taste your own medicine,” I warned Jaemin. It worked because as soon as I voiced my mischievous threat, Jaemin’s finger hooked under the hem of my panties, quickly pulling them down my legs.

“You’re no fun at all,” Jaemin clarified before his lips finally landed on my clit, making me buckle my hips in an instant. Slowly, his mouth moved against my sweet spot, and I arched my back with each swirl of his tongue.

Though he barely started, I could feel the electricity coursing through my body. In my state of permanent frustration, it wouldn’t be difficult for Jaemin to make me come against his mouth.

Getting into it, Jaemin squeezed my hips, trying to keep me still when he ate me out. His jaw was dripping in my juices as he made his way down to lick my folds.

“Fuck,” I moaned loudly when Jaemin’s nose rubbed my clit when he was running his tongue all over my entrance. “I think I am gonna come,” I admitted what made Jaemin smirk through the kiss. Jaemin barely touched me, but I was already close.

“Come for me,” Jaemin urged, releasing my hips from his firm grip. Now when I could buckle my hips against his face, my orgasm was just seconds away. With my hand in his hair, I rocked my hips, basking in pleasure.

“I need your fingers,” I begged, and Jaemin quickly obeyed my shameful plea. I expected him to tease me further, denying me his long fingers, but he was kind enough to do anything to make me come.

Thanks to my juices and Jaemin’s saliva, his two fingers slid right in.

“Fuck,” I shouted at the top of my voice when the wave of pleasure shot right through me. Jaemin’s jaw still played with my clit as he continued his actions throughout the orgasm.

“You blew my mind, Jaemin,” I muttered after I regained my focus after he had made me come on his face. “I came so hard,” I confessed, smiling like an idiot. It was way too long ever since someone made me feel this good.

“You better get used to it because I am planning this to be a frequent occurrence,” Jaemin whispered, looking at my face as if it was an art piece. “Do you have condoms?” he casually asked as he pulled down his jeans. His erected cock was restrained in the denim fabric, and Jaemin needed to get rid of it.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I replied as I opened the bedside table and threw a brand new package of condoms at Jaemin’s chest. “Jiwoo got me those after she walked on our pillow fight the other day. Apparently, she doesn’t want any cum stains on the couch.”

For a while, we were lying on the bed, staring at each other. Jaemin gave me some time to recover from my orgasm. According to him, I needed to take breaks because he didn’t want to over-stimulate me too soon.

“I really love you,” Jaemin confessed genuinely, and I quickly rolled closer to him, giving him another chase smooch. His confession was music to my ears, and I could listen to it on repeat without getting tired of it.

“I love you, too,” I quickly replied, leaning in for another kiss. With his hand on my cheek, he deepened the kiss, giving us another chance to get lost in the love trance.

Having thrown my leg over his hipbone, I hovered over his erection.

“Let me take care of you,” I said as I pulled away from the kiss. With a playful smirk upon my face, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Slowly after, my bra followed suit, and Jaemin grunted upon seeing me completely naked in front of him.

“Sexy,” he purred before he eagerly took off his hoodie, throwing it onto the floor. “On a second thought, maybe you should put something on. You’re too sexy, and I’d like to last longer,” Jaemin explained, handing me his hoodie so I could cover myself up. “No, it’s even worse. Take it off,” he changed his mind after seeing me in his clothes.

Carefully, I pulled Jaemin’s boxers down his legs, letting his rock hard cock spring free. Biting on my lips, I grabbed his erection, giving it a few gentle strokes.

“Fuck it, I am ready,” Jaemin yelled, placing his hand over mine, making me stop. “You have all the time in the world to blow me. Right now, I want to feel you,” he added, quickly pulling out a condom from its packaging.

“Let me at least roll it down for you,” I offered, and Jaemin sighed, weighing his options.

“Nah, I am not willing to take that risk,” Jaemin answered, proceeding to wrap his cock by himself. “Now, come here, sit down on it,” he urged, and I shook my head. Smiling like an idiot, I guided his cock towards my entrance, slowly sinking down on his length.

“You’re good?” I asked, trying to guess what was going on inside his brain. Judging by his sour expression, he must’ve been thinking about something terrible in order to stop himself from coming too soon.

“Yes, everything’s cool,” he reassured, and I took it as permission to gently rock my hips back and forth. Whenever I moved, Jaemin kept grunting quietly. Apparently, he also suffered from sexual frustration.

My hands were wandering all over his muscular chest, admiring his athletic built. My hips were moving at a steady rhythm, but whenever I happened to increase the tempo, Jaemin would slow me down with a firm grip on my hips.

“If you keep doing that, I might spank you,” Jaemin warned me, but it only made me want to disobey more. “Why did I even expect you to be a good girl?” Jaemin asked, rolling his eyes.

“Spank me,” I ordered, trying my best not to chuckle. “I dare you,” I added, pushing the right buttons. “Like that,” I moaned when Jaemin’s hand collided against my butt, shaking me with newfound excitement.

“You’re impossible,” Jaemin comment, still in shock after discovering how much into spanking I happened to be.

“I’m impossible not to fall in love with,” I remarked, using Jaemin’s own words against him.

Unable to handle my teasing, Jaemin sat up. “I love you so much,” Jaemin stated once again before he looked at my lips, kissing them. Now, when I was distracted by his tongue, it was easier for him to control my movement.

In our upgraded position, I significantly slowed down. Carefully, I moved up and down Jaemin’s cock, while he sneaked his hand between our entangled bodies, rubbing my clit. I was close, and I was about to come again.

I didn’t know what he was so self-conscious about. No doubt I would come first.

“Jaemin, I am coming,” I breathed out, messing up my rhythm. It was difficult to maintain the same tempo when Jaemin was playing with my clit. Jaemin’s lips moved down my neck, finding a perfect spot on my collarbone to leave a hickey.

“Me, too,” Jaemin whispered as he began thrusting from underneath me, now desperate to push the both of us off the edge. “You’re so tight, fuck,” he cursed as my walls started to swell around his throbbing cock.

Jaemin moaned against my skin, muffling his sinful sounds. I, on the other hand, screamed Jaemin’s name at the top of my voice, telling everybody in the world he was the person, making me feel this good.

Having fallen onto the sheets, we looked into each other’s eyes. We were panting as if we just ran a marathon. Not that I had any doubts, but Jaemin turned out to be a passionate lover, and it made me love him even more.

“You’re beautiful,” Jaemin complimented me, staring at my face in utter admiration. “I am so lucky,” he added, and I moved closer, snuggling up to him. It was still early, but I was so fucked out, I could fall asleep right there in his arms.

Having pulled me closer to his chest, Jaemin threw a duvet over our sweaty bodies. His fingers were tracing shapes on my shoulder when he pressed yet another peck against my temple.

“Are you down for another round?” Jaemin asked as he discarded the full condom. His cock was still semi-hard. In a few minutes, Jaemin would be ready for some more. “It’s cool if you’re not,” he added, trying not to put any pressure on me.

“I want you to do me all night,” I confessed, looking over my shoulder at the clock. It’s only 8 pm, and I could stay up till daylight with Jaemin.

“Do you want to go bowling tomorrow?” Jaemin asked, and I eagerly nodded. It was fun the last time I had joined the boys on their monthly trip to the bowling alley. Besides, I would be the first woman to break the unfortunate one-time-only curse. I couldn’t wait to show up two months in a row.

“I’d love that,” I answered, snuggling closer to Jaemin’s side.

In content, we basked in happiness until Jaemin regained enough energy to go for the third time. However, this time around, it was slow and steamy. Under the covers, Jaemin crawled on top of me, kissing every inch of my body.

“Do you want to roll it down on me? I think I can handle that,” Jaemin asked, and I reached for the condom, carefully rolling it down his length. “I wish I could fuck you without one, though,” he added, and I flicked his forehead, making him whine. “I’ll pull out.”

“I trust you, but it’s still a no from me,” I replied, guiding his cock into my entrance. Inch by inch, Jaemin pushed himself all the way in. “You fill me up so well,” I praised, purring into his ear. “I love your cock.”

Distance between our bodies was practically nonexistent. Jaemin was slowly snapping his hips, rubbing his pelvic bone against my clit, turning me into a moaning mess. I wouldn’t be surprised if my neighbors called the police because of all the noise coming from my bedroom.

“One day, you’ll let me fuck you raw. I’ll make sure you do,” Jaemin carried on, and I hissed, feeling the approaching orgasm. I didn’t even bother to comment on Jaemin’s statement. I was whipped for him. I knew I wasn’t able to maintain my assertive stance for long. Eventually, I’d cave in, letting him fuck me without a condom. It wasn’t today, though.

“In your dreams, lover boy,” I answered, but Jaemin just giggled, knowing I wasn’t serious.

“You have no idea how many times we’ve done it raw in my dreams,” Jaemin confessed as he picked up his pace, pounding into my pussy, making me moan at the sudden speed. “One day, I’ll tell you all about my fantasies, but right now, I really want this pussy to cream around my cock,” he added, his filthy words making my walls squeeze around his length.

“You wait until I tell you mine,” I challenged with a smirk. If Jaemin thought he was the only one with a dirty mind, he was seriously mistaken. While most of my fantasies were PG-13, there was still a large portion of naughty scenarios. Now, when Jaemin and I were finally together, it would be fun to try to recreate at least some of them.

“You better come because I can’t go much longer,” Jaemin warned me, pounding in and out, chasing his own release. “Fuck,” he yelled, falling on top of me as he shot his load into the condom. His cock twitched inside of me as he moved slowly, riding out his orgasm.

“Jaemin,” I hollered, coming undone underneath him. Despite the other peaks, this orgasm hit me the hardest. For a brief second, my vision turned black as I gave in to the pleasure.

Breathlessly, I lay in the sheets, slowly descending from my high.

“I think all I can do tonight is cuddle,” I commented, feeling too fucked out to engage in any other form of affection. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“It’s okay. I can carry you around the house,” Jaemin answered, finding a solution for my problem. Having pulled his limp cock out of me, Jaemin rolled down another condom, putting it aside.

“What is it?” Jaemin asked as he heard a noise from the living room.

“It sounded as if someone was knocking on the doors,” I spoke, trying to identify the sound. “It must be a courier for Jiwoo. She keeps ordering stuff online. It’s probably the late evening delivery she forgot about. Can you get it?”

“No problem, babe,” Jaemin answered as he put on his jeans, walking around the bed to answer the door.

At first, I wanted to wait for Jaemin in bed. However, it’s been like three minutes, and he didn’t come back, so I found it weird.

Having put on Jaemin’s hoodie and a pair of leggings, I made my way out of the room.

Jaemin was standing by the doors, looking inside a plastic bag. Whatever it was, it smelled like Thai food. Unfortunately, it didn’t explain anything. We were here alone, and we didn’t order anything.

Just when I was about to open my mouth and ask Jaemin what the hell was going on, Ten walked out of his room. It was strange, but I saw him leave, and I didn’t hear him come back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked angrily, trying to hide my embarrassment. If he was here the whole time, he must’ve heard us having sex.

“I live here, duh,” Ten answered matter-of-factly, choosing not to give me the explanation which I desperately needed. “I think it’s mine,” Ten spoke as he walked up to Jaemin to take his Thai takeout.

Although Jaemin and I were standing in the living room in complete consternation, Ten didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. In front of his bedroom, Ten stopped in his tracks, turning his head to face me.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Ten spoke, making me even more embarrassed. “Three times, wow. It’s impressive. Don’t fuck this up, dear. He’s a keeper,” Ten added, sending me a playful wink before he disappeared inside his room.

916 notes · View notes

mrsgiovanna · 4 years ago

Text

Between the devil and the deep blue sea (Yakuza!Josuke x Reader x Don Giorno)

If you're looking for cinnamon bun Josuke and cinnamon roll Giorno this is NOT it. The reader is a courtesan in this instance, and the Duwang gang (heh) are actually a branch of the Yakuza. (Just a darker, criminal Jojo AU)

This request took way too long, @rubyninja1 here you go love, I hope this is what you were envisioning.

All characters are aged up as this occurs many years after Giorno becomes Don.

TW: Very OOC, yandere behavior if you squint, yakuza x mafia au, suggestive content.

Word Count: 1.7k

Minors please DNI with this post and block the n/sfw tag

You stared at your reflection in the misty mirror, wiping off the steam in one swipe. You had a very important engagement to get ready for, and for the first time since you entered this business, you were nervous. Ever since Giorno became the Don of Passione, the drug trade came to a grinding halt. The rules were adapted to suit his ideals and keep Italy’s youth safe from drugs. But there remained one problem- the activities of the former execution squad… at the best of times, the income brought in was meagre, not really being enough to support all of the assassins, and with the new regime, even those jobs had all but dried up. You had to get creative to generate a livable income, and after many conversations and playing to the Don’s affections for you, you were able to persuade him to allow you and an elite group of escorts to run your business while still being under the protection of Passione.

Under normal circumstances, Giorno would not have allowed you to do something like this, but you had asked him to give you just one month to prove that you would be able to protect yourself while doing the line of work you had proposed, him hoping silently that you would grow tired of that life in favor of a more mundane activity, however, in that short amount of time, not only had you established your business, but you had become the most requested companion, which meant you could accept and deny requests at will- suddenly money was no longer your motivation. It was an intoxicating feeling… being that desired, it was altogether euphoric watching them crumble at your sweet rejections. It was fair game for any man, deciding your rules according to your latest whims, although, one man was above all of those games, being in a superior league all on his own. There was no waiting, or appraising when your presence was requested by Don Giovanna. Most times he would request for you to entertain his associates, close to him so he could keep an eye on you- one of many guardians that you had collected over the years.

Moving into your adjoining room you put on the beautiful silken embroidered outfit and hair ornaments sent to you by Giorno- tonight was a special night as the Don wasn’t just hosting any old Mafiosi, these guests were his esteemed associates from Japan. Over and above the usual treatment doled out to those who met with the don, this visit was more important than most. The head of the visiting group was a relative of Giorno’s, so there was no room for error. You wondered about his convoluted bloodline, hearing murmurs about his origins, but nothing was ever confirmed or denied other than the fact that his mother is Japanese, and nobody dared to push further for answers, not that it mattered in any case, by this time, Giorno had rearranged the entire structure of Passione, and for all intents and purposes it worked, sustainably generating copious amounts of money with minimal bloodshed.

Right, mascara and I’ll be done you mused as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup. No sooner had you finished primping your lashes did you hear a knock on your door.

“It’s open…” you called out from the seat in front of your mirror.

“(y/n), they’re ready with the car downstairs, whenever you’re ready to go…”

“Thank you Ris…” the words left your carefully painted lips, barely acknowledged by your capo when he turned to leave. Well, referring to him as Capo was now redundant seeing that you were an entity in your own right, but old habits die hard, and you still respected him in the same way. He always worried before you set out on these types of missions, remembering a time when you used to be sent out on missions by him. Nonetheless, those days were over now, and you had a new role to fulfil.

There was nobody downstairs when you left, so you exited quietly and steeled your mind on the drive to the private cigar lounge.

“Fugo, I’ll be in my study, please alert me when Higashikata and his associates are here. Also confirm with Risotto if (y/n) is on board for this evening,”

“Of course Giogio, excuse me, I’ll also follow up with Mista on the status of the Capos he’s in charge of- I’ll have feedback for you in an hour,” with a small nod of acknowledgement Fugo took his leave and Giorno went back to examining the documents sent to him beforehand about the strange occurrences in Morioh, Washington, and now Naples. This was the start of something ominous, having a nagging feeling that this wasn’t the last time he would have to meet Josuke. It’s highly unusual for organisations like Passione and the Gokudo to interact in this manner, but this situation was exceptional, and when Jotaro had made contact with Giorno explaining the situation, he couldn’t turn a blind eye, and as such, Josuke was sent in his stead to meet with the young Don.

“Giogio, we should leave now if we want to get there before Higashikata’s group, Mista will meet us there,” with that, the Don and his consigliere had left to receive their guests.

Scents of old leather, expensive tobacco, and even more expensive cologne filled the air when you sauntered in. A handsome man with a pompadour, donning a designer suit, shirt opened a few buttons too low displaying the elaborate patterns adorning his chest offered you a wicked grin from across the room. Just next to him, another ruggedly good looking man with scars across his face nursed a drink while emphatically making conversation with a white haired young man who had a beautiful raven-haired woman draped over him.

“Ah, (y/n), there you are, come on, take this to Don Giovanna and Mr Higashikata,” Maria the head hostess, pushed a bottle of cognac into your hands, the Mafiosi already having gone through a couple of rounds before your arrival.

You approached the rowdy table, offering apologies for the delay, nestling yourself between Giorno and Josuke with a flirtatious giggle.

“Well dollface, it seems good things come to those who wait, so I’ll overlook it… this time,” You were surprised with the fluency at which Josuke spoke Italian- perfect Neapolitan dialect.

“Your Italian is impeccable Higashikata-sama,” you commented, remembering the honorifics you read about. Josuke looked impressed, cocking an eyebrow, taking a sip of the expensive liquor that remained in his glass, readying himself for you to pour him another drink. Watching the exchange, Giorno downed the rest of his drink as well, and took care of the formal introductions, not that it mattered in any case. You were being pulled in all to quickly by the magnetism exuded by the young man, being lulled by the dulcet tones of his voice. I guess this runs in the family you thought to yourself, recalling your first encounter with the don. Giorno continued his conversations with the rest of Josuke’s associates, discussing the occurrences that had brought them all the way to Naples, but kept one eye on you at all times. He wasn’t sure if it was Josuke’s brazen attitude, or your fawning, but the entire situation had annoyed him, which didn’t make sense even to him seeing that you were acting on his instruction… although by this point, you weren’t really acting.

“So Higash…”

“Please, call me Josuke,”

“Okay, Josuke, those are some interesting tattoos you have…” you say, delicately tracing the patterns on his chest with a manicured finger.

“Wanna see the rest of it?” not really waiting for an answer, Josuke unbuttons the rest of his shirt to show you the elaborate design on his back, a large stunning dragon sprawled menacingly across the taut skin, stopping just shy of star-shaped marking on his shoulder.

“Hey, that looks like the same mark on the don’s shoulder…” the young man pulled his shirt and coat back on and eyed Giorno knowingly, to which the don wordlessly replied with a smirk as he raised his glass. Giorno wasn’t always that condescending, but he had the urge to make it known that hewas the one who had been acquainted with you first. Not that any of that had bothered Josuke, he wasn’t one to fall for minor acts of derision when he had set his sights on something he wanted, and right now, that was you. Missing that entire interaction as you refreshed everyone else’s drinks, you returned to the table, however Josuke wanted to take your conversation to another location, somewhere quieter.

You lead him to one of the private meeting rooms, slowly sliding the door shut. Turning around to face him, you noticed the look on Josuke’s face changed, eyes darker, expression demanding your attention, which you were unable to avert regardless of your efforts. This feeling was exhilarating to you, for so long you had mostly been in charge of your encounters, only ever yielding control to Giorno when you were with him.

“Y’know, your don was doing his best to make it known that he’d been here first… I don’t much care for the conquest or doing things first, all that matters is doing it right…” inching closer towards you, a pair of strong arms placed you on the table, hungry lips captured your own, your hands attempting to go into his hair when you were gently reprimanded. As much as this was a job for you, evidence of your excitement pooled in your lingerie and left your lips in muted moans as deft hands and lips skillfully worshipped your body, bringing you to the precipice of ecstasy so many times before allowing you to fall in.

“Good girl… look at you, barely able to think…” Josuke spoke into your shoulder, resting his head there while he waited for you ride out your climax.

Outside your little slice of heaven, your absence was obvious, Giorno having concluded his business, had started to take his leave, not before catching a glimpse of your slightly disheveled form exiting the room. You didn’t see him watching you with a scowl, already having set in motion a plan for your future in both his life and the organization… for now the moment though it seemed ignorance truly was bliss.

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sincerelyravens · 4 years ago

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sobbe hunger games au be like:

since this probably will never end up as an actual story

sander is from district 2 (speciality is masonry). his father is a peacekeeper and his mother is one of the most skilled in her field. despite being raised to fight, to win the games, sander never wanted to kill. he would take a paintbrush for a spear over any day and he was outcasted from his war-loving district. when sander is 14, his name is drawn but no one volunteers for him. it’s unheard of in the entire history of district 2—especially for someone so young—but it’s what happens. his father was frozen, his mother wailed, his little sister begged him not to go, and sander was sent off to the capitol.

the previous victors, their mentors, focused their sights on cornelia, the female volunteer. cornelia promised that she would make sander’s death easy. the other careers mocked him behind his back, but sander paid them no heed as he circled around the trap making, didn’t give his all to the showing of the judges—walking out with a 6. no one expected sander to survive his games.

but no one expected him to come out and be crowned the victor.

once the countdown sounded—signaling the start of the games, sander raced off. his agility allowed him to reach the cornucopia first, grabbing hold of a bag and fleeing the upcoming massacre. in the midst of it, someone came at him with an ax, swinging, and sander’s body moved for him, pulling the knife from his bag and stabbing him. as the person fell to the floor, sander seized the ax—and the knife—and raced to the forest. it wasn’t his only kill—he killed the girl from district 12, the boy from district 6, the girl from district 1, and a few others he wasn’t sure of. when there was three tributes left, cornelia found him in the forest, having grown bored to let him die on his own. they fought for five minutes until the gamekeepers summoned mutts. while sander sought safety in a tree, cornelia fled, being killed—leaving only sander and one other person. in the end, the final kill wasn’t even his to take—the last tribute succumbed to a leg injury.

the trauma from the games stay with him—as they always do. in his dreams, he sees everyone he killed—everyone he didn’t—and he sees them every night. when sander returned, the younger fighters looked up to him but those in his years didn’t—he was still an outcast.

but his new victor status came with new opportunities—and burdens. during his victory tour at the capital, sander snuck on the roof of the president’s mansion and met senne de smet, probably the only normal capital citizen without the fancy or grotesque makeup or fascination with the games—and somehow, beneath the night sky, sander made a friend. in addition, he was finally able to paint like he always wanted to, sticking a suitcase full of paints and canvases to take back to district 2... and they sold. but, one night, president snow made it clear that he wanted one more thing from sander. he introduced him to a rich family—with a daughter his age—and threatened his little sister’s life in the span of three seconds. and, every year with a new game and a new set of tributes to mentor, sander was forced to keep up the rumor of his conquests.

and it continued... year after year. his nightly duties continued (though the people he was with increased once he turned 18). the gossip spread about the broken hearts trailing behind him. even after senne fell in love with a victor from district 10, a girl named zoë, the same old routine with the same old saying—an oxymoron truly—may the odds be ever in your favor. sometimes, sander thought about ending it all, stripping the president and the capital of their prized toy... and he got as far as his hotel roof before he couldn’t—he thought of his parents and his sister—who loved him, senne—his best friend since the night they met, and zoë—who had become his friend and confidant during the games even as their own tributes competited against each other. so, he stepped off the ledge, headed back inside, back to the same old thing.

until sander saw him.

robbe ijzermans. district 4.

he was six weeks from aging out—six weeks away from freedom when his name was pulled. despite coming from a district that focused on fishing, he looked more like a fox than anything else with long brown hair pulled back into a bun and wild brown eyes and freckles. he was easily the most beautiful man that sander had ever seen before. when sander turned away from the screen, he found alexandra—his mentor partner—looking at him with a sad look in her face before she said, “Don’t fall for a dead boy, Sander. It never works out.”

the girl who was reaped with him was a black-haired girl, noor bauwens, about the same age who shook as she walked up to the stand. as they were escorted off the stage, robbe reached over and wrapped the girl in a hug. before the train had left district 4, caesar flickerman had already spun a tale of childhood lovers fighting to survive in the hunger games and the district 4 mentors confirmed it once they arrived (they also cut off his hair, which sander really thought was a tragedy). and they did look like a couple. robbe would always reach out for noor’s hand, hold her close—before the parade, in the hotel elevator, in the training arena. whenever the footage of the training center came on, sander always found himself watching. he told senne and zoë that he was just watching the competition, but he could tell that they didn’t believe him.

when the games had begun, robbe and noor had stuck together, somehow managing to evade the blood bath, racing from the cornucopia with two backpacks and rope wrapped around them. every night, sander found himself rooted on the screen, trying to find out what happened to robbe as well as his own tributes. caesar flickerman kept his attention on the favorite couple of the games. but, overnight, noor had gotten injured in an ambush and robbe had managed to kill them all. even with medical supplies that the sponsors sent over, noor wasn’t getting any better. even through a screen, robbe looked upset and wrought with inner turmoil—like someone who was losing the love of his life. one night, noor breathed out, “you can’t do this anymore, robbe. you need to fight.” and robbe had shaken his head, saying, “i’ve got you, noor.” then he handed her some food and water, making sure she ate it all, before ushering her to sleep. as noor closed her eyes, robbe repeated the phrase. it was only a few minutes later that the cannon sounded off, signaling her death.

after collecting his things, robbe fled their hideout so the game keepers could take her away. by this time, both of sander’s tributes were dead but he still found himself glued to the screen, unable to turn his eyes away for a second. he lost sleep, but he didn’t care. even alexandra was beside him, curious to find out about him.

in the end... robbe won, practically holding his pierced stomach together to keep him alive, as the helicopters descended to pick him up. caesar flickerman talked about his heroism for staying with noor, for fighting his way home, but even with the cameras, sander could see how robbe looked whenever they brought up noor but caesar remained oblivious. before they had all gone home, until the victory tour in the winter, sander went up to the roof for a smoke and one last glance at the capital skyline—and he found robbe sitting on the ledge with his legs over the side. when sander had announced his presence, he had jumped but let sander sit down beside him. they had been quiet for a few minutes before robbe asked, “does it go away?” before elaborating, “the nightmares.”

sander didn’t lie. “no.” he was quiet before he added, “there’s no cameras up here.” robbe had stared at him for a few moments.

for about ten minutes, they were quiet before robbe breathed out: “everyone thinks i lost my girlfriend, even everyone at home—except maybe one person—but that’s not true.” sander had glanced over at him, the cigarette in his fingertips. “we were never like that. we played it for the cameras, thought it would get us good sponsorships on top of our scores... and it did. but i didn’t lose my girlfriend in that arena... i lost one of my best friends.” he let out a breath and rubbed at his eyes. “sorry, i don’t know why i said that. you don’t even know me.”

“i know you.” sander had interrupted. robbe had looked up. “i know you,” he repeated before reaching out his hand and saying. “sander driesen. district 2.”

for six months, robbe disappeared.

then came the victory tour and he was charted off to every district like they all were. finally, he arrived back at the capital, back at the president’s mansion, until he bumped right into sander in the midst of talking about paintings with one of the capital people. the two had exchanged muted greetings before the customer was interested in buying his painting—and his sister was interested in something else. as sander felt her making her move, felt himself succumb to the nightly activities (that president snow had told him about), he found himself looking for robbe and found him over with senne and zoë, who were both talking with him.

after sneaking out of the girl’s room, sander went back to his designated room and bumped into robbe in the lobby, carrying a bunch of supplies and cameras in his hands. sander had laughed, helping him carry them to his room. once they were inside, they started talking about the past six months—about how robbe was adjusting. sander had mentioned about how the capital takes some getting used to but promised to show robbe all of the good spots. even in the darkness of the apartment, sander could spot the flush on robbe’s cheeks before he said that he would like to go.

the next day, sander took robbe around the capital in search for new things for robbe to take home—now that he had an virtually unlimited supply of money at his disposal. everywhere they went, heads would turn to see where they were going, and sander wished they would all go away. sander bought some new art supplies and robbe found some more electronics that he could salvage. sander teased him for being a techie from the fishing district 4 and robbe had blushed, saying that it helps calm his mind.

when they arrived back at robbe’s apartment, arms full of shopping bags, robbe invited sander in for a drink to thank him for the tour and, somehow, sander had pinned robbe against the refrigerator and kissed the daylights out of him—and robbe kissed him back. kissing robbe felt different than anyone else he had kissed before and sander never wanted to stop—but unfortunately, his phone rang with one of his “clients” who had a sultry voice and wanted his last night before they all left. sander wanted to snap, say that he was busy, but the thought of his little sister being killed—or worse, reaped on purpose—tore him away from robbe with a mumbled “i’m sorry.”

for the next games, robbe and sander had run into each other in the elevator and had talked mindlessly before robbe got off on his floor and motioned sander to follow. alexandra had looked at him with wide eyes as sander followed in suit. safely in his apartment, robbe asked why he left and why he didn’t reach out. when robbe asked if he was another one of sander’s conquests that he strung around the capital, sander couldn’t helping kissing that thought off his lips. sander told robbe of snow’s threat and how he doesn’t want robbe to be caught in the crossfires and how, if sander could have his way, robbe would be the only one. robbe closes his eyes and kisses him again, pulling him in the direction of his bedroom, and that’s how their life together begins.

when the games weren’t going on, his mornings and afternoons were completely owned by robbe. if the games were going on, the tv would be on in the background or they’d be out with sponsors, trying to help their tributes in any way that they could. when one of their tributes died or the nightmares got too much, they would hold each other as the sobs overwhelmed them. but, his nights, were mostly reserved for others in the capital—but robbe never left sander’s mind... not even for a second. whenever they called, robbe would press a kiss to his forehead and mumble out an “it’s okay” like he could read the thoughts in sander’s mind.

if snow ever knew, he never said but sander always prepared like he had known the entire time. snow was smart like that. thankfully, robbe didn’t get the same treatment that sander had gotten. instead, with his engineering mind, he was tasked with helping build the arenas, which took it’s own toll on a more permanent basis, and—as much as sander hated his evening work at the capital—he gathered more support for his paintings so he could come to the capital more often, hold robbe a little tighter.

when it all got too much, the hatred of their situation and the nightmares they wouldn’t wish on anyone else, they had each other to hold onto, to kiss away the nightmares in the rare nights that they were allowed to be together—and, when they heard of a rebellion that would stop the nightmares from happening to someone else, the thought to join the fight, to rebel against the twisted system, was instantaneous.

#wtfock #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #sobbe #drijzermans #rosander #sander x robbe #hunger games au #tw: thoughts of suicide #in which sander is finnick and robbe is annie but they're from different districts #actually robbe's like a mixture i suppose #brennawrites #emgab #long post #i feel like i rushed it a smidge #but i promise there would be more details if it was an actual story #edit: just realized i said district 4 when sander introduced himself to robbe

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babelfishing · 4 years ago

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Everything I Have Written

It's about time I added a pinned post with everything I've written online. I originally thought, "I'll make this a best-of!" But eh, I love them all in their own special way. So here's just about Everything (TM).

I'll do my best to keep this updated with new content. Thank you so much for reading! Your comments and kudos mean the world to me.

Things I Have Written (She-Ra)

The Girl Who Swallowed a Star

"Hey, it's okay. Just relax, straighten your legs, and start walking."

Adora's body did so reflexively and to her surprise, the air beneath her boots felt stable and calm. Gingerly, she leaned her weight forward and found that the invisible surface did not give way.

"There you go, now you're getting it," Catra whispered after sensing the lingering tension in her ward's body. She leaned in closer such that her chin rested in the crook of Adora's neck. "Don't worry, I've got you."

A few dreamy steps further, the sorceress looked over and caught Adora staring. With an enticing grin, she returned the favor.

"Look at you. You're a natural."

"Heh...I guess so."

"And here I thought you were some magic-less flower delivery girl."

"You're pretty magical yourself."

A Howl’s Moving Castle-inspired AU about love, war, and the perils of fighting other people’s battles. (Ongoing, Ch. 1 so far)

My Heart Overtook my Body

My "Your Name" AU, written for the S5 1-Year Anniversary Big Bang!

Like perfect strangers, Catra and Adora are busy living their own lives, out in the country and deep in the city, respectively. But one night, they begin switching places, each waking the next morning in the other’s body without a clue to the cause. As the switches continue, the pair are faced with a daily choice – stay true to their opposite’s wishes or meddle in their affairs, spicing it up or perfecting it as they see fit.

Soon enough, the pair find themselves at each other’s necks, spiteful of the person on the other end of the line. But as they begin to see more of the world through the other’s eyes, Catra and Adora begin to feel their summer passions blossoming into something more, their lives now inextricably bound by the red string of fate. That cord continues to tighten as they explore the person they’ve become, until the pair must overcome a hardship greater than distance to find a way back to each other (53k, 12 chapters)

A Beautiful Wish

Without warning, Catra opens her eyes and finds herself in a new reality where the Horde’s conquest had been successful, where she has become queen of the Horde by force, and where Adora has never left her side. Wracked with an insatiable bout of amnesia, Catra must now decide if this world is truly what she wants – even when it is too good to be true.

A parallel to Adora's "wish" in Heart Pt. 2 (9.9k words).

Something Bitter, Something Sweet

Between their banter and a few glasses of wine, Catra and Glimmer stir up a cherished dumpling recipe and a few bittersweet memories (9.2k)

Caught Out

Adora and Catra trek through the great outdoors together and try to climb up to a scenic mountain peak. The weather has other plans, though. Despite the rain, the couple find a way to grow closer while retracing feelings of the past (9k).

Pitter Patter Goes my Heart

Catra has something she needs to ask Adora, and her racing thoughts won’t let her sleep until she gets an answer. It all started with a nightmare, but in the silence of their Horde cadet dormitory, Catra still finds the courage to lean into a dream she’s long held in her heart (3.3k).

The Sculptors Marble Sends Regards

On the 3rd anniversary of the war's end, Bright Moon makes a new addition to its statuary hall of heroes. Catra feels like she doesn't deserve the honor, causing old guilt about the war to bubble up (5.9k).

Pink in the Night

On a cadet training mission in the field, Catra and Adora sneak out of camp to explore a mysterious glowing cave. There, a crystal of unique beauty catches their mutual eye. But their nighttime escapade soon turns treacherous as the ground beneath them begins to give way. In the blink of an eye, Catra learns what it takes to save the person she cares about most in the world - even if she's only beginning to come to terms with her feelings (13.8k).

Compliments to the Chef

Catra and Adora enjoy the beginnings of a perfect Saturday morning, starting with a lovingly prepared meal and then...maybe more (4k)

That's It, Forever

My first ever fic! Catra struggles with her guilty conscience, even with the war now in the rear view (2.6k).

Don't Change

Catra has a question and she’s not sure she can sleep until she knows the answer. She wants to know what it feels like to transform into She-Ra, but more importantly, she wants to be sure she’ll always have Adora - no matter who she changes into (3.2k).

Truth and/or Drink

What's a few personal questions between friends? A lot, as it turns out, based on Adora and Glimmer's romantic history. For a time, both women thought that they could make their living arrangement work platonically. But after a few rounds of a classic drinking game, they both reveal some truths that help reconcile their past while also making it harder for them to live together as "just friends" (7.4k).

Missing Out, Missing You

One evening, aboard Horde Prime’s ship, two former enemies converse about their younger years and what could have been, if not for the war (2.2k)

Things I Have Written (The Owl House)

Mint Chocolate

Amity's not jazzed about the prospect of re-dying her hair. That is, until Luz volunteers to help. After that, she can hardly say "no," let alone remain focused on the task at hand. In the end, the pair end up with more on their mind than what to do with their snow white hair (6.6k).

Such a Heavenly View

Amity invites Luz to watch the stars from a popular Boiling Isles overlook. But a storm rolls in to ruin their date - at least, that's what everyone around them knows it to be. Luz manages to find a way to save the night, though, with a little mix of magic and burgeoning affection. (7.4k)

A Dull Roar

A project due date is approaching, so naturally, the library would be the best place for Luz and Amity to study. But as it turns out, even the library can offer its own share of distractions – that is, if you’re sitting with the right person.

Amity and Luz try to hit the books, but end up hitting on each other – in their own way (9.9k).

Don't Hold Your Breath

After Boscha tosses Amity's pendant in the Hexside pool, it's up to Luz and Amity to sneak in like cat burglars and nab it back. Their escapade makes for an intimate evening of night swimming - even if they're not mutually ready to admit their feelings just yet. But even without saying it, Luz eventually shows how much her new friend means to her when the pool's perilous nature comes to a head (8.5k)

The Fireworks in Me

On the eve of the Midwinter Festival, an argument between Amity and Luz boils over, leaving the latter struggling to find the words to apologize. Though a walk through town manages to cool her nerves, it may take a little extra warmth - from her girlfriend and their favorite holiday brew - to fully make amends (3.5k).

Letterman

After lending Luz her varsity jacket, Amity realizes the implications just a moment too late (2.4k).

In the Blink of an Eye

A serendipitous encounter in the Palisman Woods offers Amity a chance to show her true spark. But her fire magic isn’t the only flame on this battlefield. Somehow, someway, Amity finds her harsh demeanor melting away after catching a glance of a certain human stranger. Maybe if she’s lucky, her quick thinking will be enough to get her name (7.9k)

Thank you to everyone who reads my work! Your kudos and comments are appreciated beyond your wildest belief. I have a bunch of wips and half-ideas that I may add to this collection as well, so don't miss those.

#fanfic #Ao3 #writing #Fanfiction #ao3 #She-Ra #spop #The Owl House

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httpjeon · 5 years ago

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— 08. bunny blues 8: instincts | yoongi & jungkook (m.)

yoongi/reader/jungkook — feat. hybrid!taehyung | fluff, smut | hybrid!au

wordcount: 3.1k

contents: dirty talk, size kink, virgin kink if u squint, praise kink, possessive!jk, fingering, multiple orgasms, knotting, cunnilignus, blow job, creampie, soft!yoon

― synopsis: your heat hits but a visitor comes at the wrong time and keeps you company.

note: the moment we've all been waiting for,,,,,,our bois get their dicks wet finally!!!! this was posted on ao3 before it was posted here, in case you are wondering if you’ve read it before.

blog masterlist ɪɴᴅᴇx: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

"Just call if you need anything, baby, alright?" Jungkook smiled, petting your head softly as you stood at the door to bid them goodbye.

"We'll be back in a few hours, okay?" You nodded at Yoongi's words and hugged them, reassuring them that you'd be fine while they were gone.

They had decided to go out to get everything you needed and wanted for your looming heat. So while they were gone, you went back to Yoongi's room to finish making your “nest”.

Instead of going through your heat in your bedroom, everyone decided that it would be much more comfortable to use Yoongi's king sized bed instead. So you moved all the things you'd collected over the course of a few days to his bedroom to construct where you'd be spending the next week. However, before you could even try to sit down and begin, the doorbell chimed. You thought about ignoring it, heaving a big sigh as you tossed one of Yoongi's pillows to the corner of the bed where you wanted it.

The doorbell rang again and you groaned, hopping off the bed and going to the door. When you opened the door, you were shocked to see Taehyung's handsome face staring back at you with a cute lopsided smile. His ears perked up at the sight of you and his tail wagged happily.

"T-Tae why are you here? You shouldn't be here," You breathed, already feeling your panties growing wet by the alpha male standing on your doorstep.

"I have to get something from Jungkook's room. Why shouldn't I be here, are you okay? Is someone here?" His eyes narrowed as he barrelled into the house -- protective instincts on as he looked for someone who was a threat to you, "There's no one here," He mumbled, relaxing visibly.

"I-I know," You breathed, body already on fire with having him with you.

Damned your instincts.

Taehyung's entire body froze as his shoulders heaved up with a big inhale. His mouth fell open while his eyes seemed to roll back in his head. A low growl ripped from his lips before he turned around. You felt breathless at the sight of him; eyes dark with pupils blown wide and his mouth hanging open like he was absolutely salivating over your scent.

"You in heat, sweet girl?" He cooed, deep voice lowering even more until it felt like your knees were going to give out.

As if sensing your plight, he wrapped his strong arm around your waist and pulled your heated body against his. With his body pressed against yours, you could smell his strong scent all around you and it made a whimper fall from your lips.

"Shit you smell...absolutely divine," He whispered, burying his face in your neck to get a better smell of you. "You smell so sweet...so ripe. Shit, I just wanna knot you right here -- cover you in my come so you smell like you belong to me."

"Please!" You gasped, mindlessly grinding forward even though it granted you no relief.

"Lay back, sweetheart, I'll take care of you, yeah?"

Immediately, you fell back on the couch and Taehyung crawled on until he was hovering above you. His lips found yours, a heated kiss nothing like the one you shared with Yoongi nights ago. His hand slipped up your shirt to cup your bare breast -- bringing a small whimper from your lips for him to swallow. He groaned in response, quickly abandoning his hold on your chest in favor of sliding his long, delicate fingers down the front of your shorts and panties.

"You're so wet, god," He growled, quickly sinking one finger inside you.

You immediately noticed how long his digit was -- much longer than both Jungkook's and Yoongi's fingers.

"God you're tight -- how're you gonna fit my cock in this little hole huh?" He whispered, dragging his tongue up the side of your neck before grazing his sharp canines against the fragile skin. You cried out, arching your hips to get him to move his finger inside you.

You were both moving on pure instinct but you still had Jungkook and Yoongi in the back of your mind — a little tinge of guilt that made your heart ache.

You whined when he managed to touch that little spot inside you and you were sure you were absolutely gushing on him. However, the pleasure paused when he began to try and fit another finger in. You whined, reaching down to halt him and he looked up.

"Too much?" He cooed, pressing his lips to yours as he backed off -- pulling his fingers out to circle your clit. You sighed in pleasure, spreading your legs to give him more room.

Before he could think about trying again, the door opened and the familiar scents of Yoongi and Jungkook overlapped with Taehyung's.

"What— Taehyung!?" Yoongi cried in shock followed by a loud snarl from Jungkook.

Heavy footsteps stomped towards you before Taehyung was suddenly yanked violently from you. Sitting up, you were able to see Jungkook pin Taehyung to the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jungkook growled, nose to nose with his best friend.

"She's in heat what the hell do you think I'm doing?" Taehyung snapped back.

"She's ours, Taehyung," Jungkook said, tightening his grip on the shirt in his hands.

"Not until you've knotted her -- until then she's free game," Taehyung whispered.

"Watch your fucking mouth, Taehyung. She isn't just a random conquest -- stay away from her," The two of them shared a still minute of glaring at each other.

"Yoongi," You suddenly whined, clenching your thighs together at a sudden rush of arousal.

The two hybrids suddenly inhaled sharply at your sudden change in scent.

"Leave now, Taehyung," Jungkook released his friend, giving him a firm shove towards the door.

The blonde stood for a moment, watching the way you nuzzled closer to Yoongi. Your scent and the way you had reacted so well to his touches had left him completely hard. He still turned his back on the scene as Jungkook joined the two of you and left the apartment as fast as he arrived. Your arousal still lingered in his fingers and he knew he'd use it to jerk off when he got home.

With your heat officially hitting, you found the need to get to your nest as soon as possible. You whined, attempting to get out of the strong hold both men had on you.

"What is it baby?" Yoongi whispered, loosening his hold on you.

"G-Gotta go to the room," You whined, squirming against Jungkook's hold.

"Let's go then," Yoongi smiled, attempting to pull you away from the pup.

"Fuck," Jungkook whined, finally releasing you.

Although your legs were shaky, you still managed to scamper down the hall and into the bedroom. When Jungkook and Yoongi finally entered, they found you stripping yourself and cuddling into the cool sheets beneath you. They felt softer than ever against your sensitive skin and you were suddenly thankful for Yoongi’s choice of satin sheets.

"Such a pretty girl for us," Jungkook cooed, crawling onto the bed. "Hyung,"

"Y-Yeah?" Yoongi whispered, eyes following the trails Jungkook's fingers made along your sweat-soaked skin.

"Let me take care of her first, then you can have your turn next," The hybrid bargained.

"And why do you get her first?" Yoongi challenged, raising a brow.

"Because she needs a knot, hyung," Jungkook smirked, nosing your neck while keeping his eyes on the elder. "And last time I checked...you couldn't knot her,"

"Want your knot, Kookie," You whimpered, spreading your legs to accommodate him between them. Just the mention of his knot had you craving it, needing it.

"See hyung?" Jungkook chuckled at Yoongi's pout. Still, the human took a seat on a chair situated by the window. "At least you get a nice show out of it,"

"Jungkookie," You whined again, reaching up to pull his body flush against yours.

"I got you baby," He finally turned his full attention to you.

Your hair stuck to your skin as your skyrocketing temperature caused your body to become sticky with sweat. Your breasts heaved with every shaky breath you took. Sitting back on his knees, he took a moment to look over your body.

"You look so pretty," He whispered, cupping your breasts in both hands.

His weight was more than welcomed when he leaned over to envelop one your nipples in his mouth -- swirling his tongue until it hardened. Pulling his mouth off, he blew cold air on the bud until you whined and shivered before giving the same treatment to the other.

"You're trembling baby," Yoongi whispered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees to get a closer look.

"Do you feel good,sweetheart?" Jungkook asked, thumbing over one of your now overly sensitive nipples.

"S-So good," You confirmed, making Jungkook’s pride swell.

"You're so cute," He whispered, pressing a kiss against your breast. "So soft and sweet...and all ours. Isn't that right?"

"Y-Yes Kookie, I'm all yours," You repeated, breathy and already worn out.

Arousal plagued your mind. It felt like you were on fire, between your thighs so wet and you wanted nothing more than to be stuffed full and pleasured by the hybrid in front of you.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, you felt his fingers grazing your heated folds -- spreading you open as he positioned himself to lay between your legs. You felt embarrassed, with his face so close to your wet heat. It felt like he was examining every part of you, trying to engrave you in his mind.

"Such a pretty cunt," He whispered. "Can't wait to fuckin' ruin you,"

You covered your face with your hands as you whined. Arching your hips up, you could feel his breath on your entrance -- he was so close.

A long cry escaped you when he swiped his tongue across the length of your core from your entrance to your clit. He gripped your thighs, pinning them open as he began to truly devour you. Your hands slid into his hair as he ate you, wet lewd noises mixed with vicious growls came from between your legs.

Beneath his bangs, his eyes eyes blown wide with lust. He latched onto your clit and sucked, your hips arched up as you keened. You'd never felt anything like it before and you didn't know what to do with yourself. You began to squirm to get away from the heavy sensations crashing over your body.

"Sit still," He snarled, sitting up and spreading you even more before his tongue slid into your clenching entrance.

"Fuck," You heard Yoongi groan.

Looking over, you could see him palming himself through his jeans. The sight had you trembling beneath Jungkook. His tongue was giving you the slightest stretch as he licked you and tasted everything you had to offer.

Suddenly he pulled away, tossing his head back as he licked his lips of anything remaining. You laid panting, trembling in residual stimulation with your legs still spread.

"You taste...so good..." He breathed, hovering above you before he met you for a kiss.

It was so chaste and sweet compared to the sinful act he had just been doing. While locked in the kiss, he slipped his hand between your legs and easily slid two fingers into your entrance. You whined, the stretch more than you'd felt before. However, your body was craving it so much that you couldn't be bothered to care that much. He filled you much easier than Taehyung had, your walls easily accepting his digits.

"So small...so tight," He groaned into your lips. "Gonna ruin this little cunt, you know? You're gonna take my knot and nothing will ever be able to satisfy you again,"

"Want it so bad, Jungkook," You whispered, making him chuckle.

"Yeah? You hear that hyung?" Jungkook glanced over to where Yoongi was still sitting with flushed cheeks. "Our cute little bunny wants to be fucked,"

"Yes, please," You breathed, arching your hips up so he'd be enticed to fuck you with those delicious digits buried inside you.

"So polite too," Yoongi cooed from his place, eyes locked on the spread folds of your cunt from where Jungkook was filling you.

"Our good little bunny," Jungkook whispered, finally fucking his fingers into you.

You preened under the praise and stimulation, eyes rolling back into your head as you began to tremble. The angle of his fingers had him hitting your spot and you felt your orgasm coming full force.

"I-I..." You stuttered, unable to formulate the correct words, reaching down to wrap your hand around his forearm.

"Cum for me," Jungkook growled, groaning when your walls tightened around him as you finally released.

You could feel their eyes on you as you came, trembling and arching as moans left your mouth. His fingers didn't stop until you were whimpering and squirming to get away from the overstimulation. When he finally slowed, he pulled his fingers out and easily popped them in his mouth, eyes rolling back at your delightful taste.

"I need to fuck you," He growled, scrambling to shed his clothes.

You were quickly flipped onto your hands and knees, facing Yoongi. You could feel Jungkook behind you and, as you met Yoongi's eyes, the blunt head of Jungkook's cock met your entrance.

"Shit...you're so tight," He growled as he began to work his cock into you.

The feeling of being filled so completely was brand new and you went limp against the bed as the sensation overloaded your brain. The more he sunk in, the worse the burn got until you were whimpering with tears in your eyes.

"H-Hurts Kookie," You whined, reaching back to halt him from sinking in anymore.

However, he gripped your wrist, pinning it against your back and continued on until he was balls deep. You whined, struggling to get used to the feeling of being stuffed full.

"Relax," Jungkook whispered, releasing your wrist and running his hand down the length of your spine until he met the fluffy ball of your tail.

"C-Can't...it's too much," You whimpered, clutching the sheets desperately.

"C'mere," He cooed, pulling you up until you were up on just your knees, your back pressed against his chest.

He was so deep inside that you felt your eyes roll back. Beneath the burn of his entrance, you could feel the pleasure as well. It was only exasperated when his clever fingers found your clit. The reaction was immediate, you were clinging to him as you began to tremble.

"So sensitive," He whispered, burying his face in your neck. "That's it...relax for me. Let me make you feel good, babygirl,"

You finally felt your body relax and Jungkook did to, letting you drop down onto your elbows. You sighed, feeling his length throb inside you and you couldn't help but grind back in search of more of the full feeling he could give you. Gripping your hips, he slowly pulled out until just half his length was inside you and then he thrusted back in. Nailing your g-spot, your cry was muffled by the sheets.

"Such a pretty girl," You opened your eyes to find Yoongi had moved to sit on the bed beside you.

"Yoongi," You slurred, reaching forward until your hand found his hard length hidden in his jeans.

"Not yet," He grinned, pulling your hand away from his crotch and lacing your fingers together.

Jungkook groaned as you sat up, your walls tightening around him. Unable to help yourself, you pressed your lips against Yoongi's. He smiled, sliding his hand between your legs to find your swollen clit. You were shocked by how close you felt with Jungkook's cock buried inside you and Yoongi's deft fingers teasing your bud until you couldn't take it anymore. Falling over the edge again, you found yourself clinging to Yoongi, who continued to rub your clit through the high. Jungkook groaned, feeling how utterly tight you got around him.

"I think our little bunny is enjoying her first cock," Jungkook whispered, dragging his tongue up your shoulder. "Coming so prettily, huh?"

"How does it feel? Being stuffed nice and full?" Yoongi grinned at the debauched, faraway look that overcame your face.

"So...So good...I w-wanna cum again," You whined, grinding back against Jungkook's cock.

You noticed the base of him growing bigger and bigger and the fact that you knew he was going to knot you had you whimpering and fucking yourself back even more.

"Jungkook!" You cried, tangling one of your hands in his hair and the other in Yoongi's t-shirt.

The rolls of his hips slowed until he was finally able to pop his knot into you -- finally tipping you over the edge again. You trembled as Jungkook's cum filled you, unable to escape due to his knot. You could feel him shake and gasp behind you as Yoongi's fingers eased you through your orgasm. Your walls clenching around him helped Jungkook soar through his end until the both of you were too boneless to remain upright.

Yoongi pet your hair, as Jungkook cradled you against his chest still locked together by his knot.

"Such a good girl," Jungkook praised you, wrapping his arms around you to kiss your cheek.

"Our best girl," Yoongi added, kissing your lips.

You sighed happily, feeling well satisfied after being filled with Jungkook's cum. You didn't feel overwhelmed by your heat like you had the first time you had. In fact, you didn't feel uncomfortable like you thought you would. You weren't hot anymore, feeling comfortable and safe wrapped between two men who loved you.

Instead of wanting to sleep, however, you found yourself staring at Yoongi. How beautiful and flawless he was -- cheeks flushed with his arousal and still hard in his jeans. But so patient, just waiting for his turn if you were willing.

"Shit, sensitive," Jungkook groaned, gripping your waist as he clenched his teeth.

"What is it?" Yoongi quirked a brow at the hybrid behind you.

"I think...she wants some more because she's squeezing me like crazy," Jungkook chuckled when you whined in embarrassment.

"Is that so?" Yoongi smirked before sitting up some more. "How about you use that cute little mouth for me?"

"Please," You licked your lips, watching eagerly as Yoongi unbuttoned his jeans until his cock was out.

His was long and the head of him a flushed purple-red with beads of wetness dripping from the tip. You could feel yourself positively drooling, licking your lips again when Jungkook reached forward to wrap his fist around Yoongi's length. More beads came to the tip and Jungkook made sure to use them to lubricate his palm so he could stroke the older comfortably. Yoongi's head fell backwards as he groaned.

"Go ahead and take him in, bun," Jungkook urged, fist still around Yoongi's cock.

You leaned forward, feeling Jungkook's knot tug a bit causing him to groan. You enveloped the head of Yoongi's cock in your mouth and he immediately groaned. You swirled your tongue around his tip, collecting his precum on your tongue before moaning at the taste.

"Shit," Jungkook groaned from behind you, grinding into you softly even though he was still sensitive. You whined yourself, arching your back and taking more of Yoongi into your mouth until he pushed your gag reflex and you pulled back.

"It's okay, don't push yourself," Yoongi smiled, gently petting your ears and hair to urge you to take him back in.

You did so without hesitation, taking half on him in before he hit your reflex and you pulled back again. It was uncomfortable when he went too far but you enjoyed suckling lightly on him as he throbbed in your mouth.

It didn't take long, Jungkook squeezing what you couldn't fit and your tongue sweeping his sensitive tip before Yoongi was coming. Your eyes widened as you tasted him for the first time, swallowing every drop you could.

"God that's my good girl," Yoongi groaned, thrusting his hips ever so slightly when you pulled off him suddenly. As he fucked Jungkook's fist, you felt his cum land on your lips and you whined, licking it off.

Finally, Jungkook released his length and the older relaxed.

"C-Can you make me come again?" You suddenly asked, leaning back farther and spreading your legs.

Jungkook immediately found your clit as Yoongi leaned forward to kiss you. Still stretched around Jungkook's cock, you found yourself reaching your end quickly. You gushed around Jungkook’s knot, wrapping your hand around Jungkook’s wrist of his fingers circled the throbbing bud.

What surprised you was the fact you felt Jungkook coming again -- filling you up just a bit more. He groaned softly when you finally stopped spasming around him.

You fully relaxed against Jungkook, stuffed completely with cum and ready to sleep.

Yoongi stood up from the bed and you whined at the loss of him. He smiled, petting your hair affectionately before stripped his clothes until he was just as naked as you and Jungkook. Finally, he crawled into bed and pulled the covers over both of you.

"Tomorrow, hyung," Jungkook grinned over your shoulder. "You'll get your turn tomorrow,"

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

Photo

Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day, it’s Cinderelly~... ^.^ Okay..before I jump into the next part of the Cinderella AU, here’s your usual appetizer of random historical/etc. notes!

Although carriages were developed centuries earlier, actual coaches like the kind we think of from Cinderella stories were first developed in the late 16th century in Hungary, specifically a little town called Kocs. (The word “coach” and its alternatives in other languages, such as the German Kutsche and the Spanish and Portuguese coche, are thought to have been derived from the Hungarian kocsi, meaning “of Kocs.”) They then really caught on in the rest of Europe after Queen Elizabeth I of England started using them in the 1580s. The terms “coach” and “carriage” are often used interchangeably, but if one wanted to pin-point the advancements coaches specifically made in contrast to carriages of the past, there are a few differences one can pick out in how they’re built. Coaches generally are four-wheeled enclosed vehicles with doors and/or windows (glass was added in later centuries), and often include a “boot” seat on the outside for a footman and/or luggage to sit on. Coaches also generally have a reputation for providing a smoother ride than previous modes of transport because they’re suspended between the wheels rather than directly over or beside them. After the invention of the coach, one can find carriages (royal ones, in particular) adopting some of these same attributes.

Sadly wheelchairs really weren’t a thing in the 16th century. The first self-propelled wheeled chairs were developed in the mid-17th century and refined in the 18th, with sedan chairs or litters (A.K.A. chairs you carried) generally being used by the nobility prior to that. But there’s no way in Hell I’m not going to give McNully the independence he deserves, so I used a completely anachronistic design inspired by this antique wheelchair I found online, made circa around the 1840′s. Hey, this is a fantasy world anyway, so bleh. :P The flower detailing on the wheel is supposed to evoke an emblem I see being on Florence’s green and gold coat of arms (get it? “Florence?” “Flora?”). You might also notice that McNully has little Snitch-like “wing” frills on each of his buttons! XD

Another fun thing I learned while doing research -- although cloaks were often worn for warmth during the medieval period and beyond, in England during the Elizabethan era, their use was actually actively discouraged and even prohibited, as they were associated with criminals and rebels! Therefore it was common for a lot of English noblemen and women to wear thicker clothing made of wool and accessories like muffs, gloves, and even jackets for warmth instead. I tried very, very hard to find historically accurate examples of period-worthy jackets and capes for women around the time of the Renaissance, and was very frustrated to find a lot of fantasy-esque costume pieces or historical clothing from later eras that were simply mislabeled -- but I did find one lovely recreation of a 16th century wool jacket, so that’s what I used as reference for Carewyn’s jacket in this sketch, though I personally imagine it as a dark red, so as to better blend with her burnt orange and beige servant’s uniform. Bill’s uniform is based off a real castle guard uniform from early 16th century France, though with a much simpler color palette (I see Royaume’s colors being blue and red). Like with McNully’s chair, there’s a crown on the chest of Bill’s uniform, which I see being on Royaume’s coat of arms (“royaume” is literally French for “kingdom”).

In her canon, Carewyn was born when Jacob was nine years old. Although in most of Carewyn and Jacob’s canon post-Portrait-Vault, they end up being only two years apart in age, that’s only because Jacob stopped aging while trapped in a Portrait for seven years. From Carewyn’s fifth year on, Jacob and Carewyn in canon therefore act much more like contemporaries, even though Jacob actually kind of ended up partially raising Carewyn alongside their mother Lane.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here – Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Every day over the next week, Carewyn met Orion at the gate of the palace of Royaume, and the two would spend an hour or so together. Orion would ask her about life at the palace, Carewyn would playfully respond, and sooner or later, they’d end up getting diverted and talking about something else completely, whether the upcoming Winter Festival, the language of flowers, art, poetry, the meaning of life, music, fencing, or (after seeing a rather beautiful eagle flying overhead) what it might be like to fly. Carewyn honestly wasn’t entirely sure what Orion got out of their meetings besides entertainment, and naturally she couldn’t afford to indulge in such entertainment too long, when she had so much work to do around the castle and she still had to find out where Jacob was positioned. But she had to admit, with the King and Queen having invited Iris over to stay in one of the guest suites at the palace for the remainder of the month, Carewyn didn’t mind having an excuse to stay far away from her cousin. Lately Carewyn had actively planned her days so that she could clean the guest suites at teatime, when Iris would be in one of the foyers with the King, Queen, and Prince on the opposite side of the palace. She did not want a repeat of the other day, after all...particularly since she’d also need time to change out of the nicer, collared dresses she’d wear when spending time with Orion.

Orion, meanwhile, was of course getting a bit more than entertainment out of his and Carewyn’s meetings. Through speaking with Carewyn, he’d sussed out some very helpful information about Royaumanian culture, the dynamics within Royaume’s royal family, and both their and their country’s financial state. One day he told his closest confidantes at court, Skye and McNully, some of what he’d learned...but Skye didn’t react quite as favorably as Orion had expected.

“...I gave Lady Cromwell a copy of the sheet music for ‘No One is Alone’ last week -- you remember the song, of course? And from what I understand, Prince Henri and the castle staff have quite taken to it. Not that I’m surprised -- Carewyn has a very soothing voice. I’m sure she performed it very well. But the Prince listening to the words at all is a good sign -- I even asked Carewyn if the Prince enjoyed them, and she said she believed so. She also found their message meaningful...one of Florence’s best-loved anti-War songs, and one about looking through another’s eyes and forgiving past grievances, no less! That can only be a good sign, for Royaumanians to take heart in it. It surely must have been fate that Lady Cromwell and I collided at the market -- I had a feeling we were kindred spirits, when she came to my aid, but now I am most assured of it. I might hazard a guess that she wishes for peace just as much as I -- for the sake of her brother fighting in the field, yes, but also selflessly for the sake of others, not wishing to see any other person in pain...”

“She sounds like a perfect knight in shining armor,” said Skye, her voice oddly cutting.

Orion looked up at Skye, startled by her tone. Her arms were crossed over the chest of her faded blue linen dress.

“Anything else you want to tell us about the fair Lady Cromwell,” she said rather icily, “or are you actually ready to talk about how you plan to end this War?”

Orion blinked slowly. “...I thought that we were already discussing that.”

“Really?” scoffed Skye. “‘Cause it sounds to me like you were busy gushing over your new conquest.”

“Conquest?” Orion repeated. His confused tone then melted into something more soothing and indulgent, “Oh -- no, Skye...you misunderstand me. I have no interest in courting Carewyn -- she’s just my contact point, with the palace.”

Skye gave a very loud, disbelieving snort. “Ha! Right, of course she is -- that’s why you can’t stop gushing about ‘Carewyn this’ and ‘Lady Cromwell that.’”

“Skye has a point, Orion,” said McNully, though his voice was a lot less confrontational. If anything he sounded almost sheepish. “I mean, about 85% of your report was about Lady Cromwell. You used her name over ten times just in the span of a minute.”

Amazingly Orion’s calm, hard-to-read expression didn’t crack. His hands clasped lightly in front of him.

“Lady Cromwell plays an essential part in this strategy. I’m an outsider looking in, without her insight -- a ship sailing blindly, without the light from a lighthouse to give me direction.”

“A lighthouse for a lost ship -- oh yeah, those sound like the words of someone who’s focusing on winning a war and not swooning over a pretty face,” said Skye scathingly. “Maybe instead of always running off and playing dress-up, you could actually bother to do your duty and go help fight on the battlefield for once!”

Orion’s lips came together tightly, but it didn’t make his expression any less composed. McNully shot Skye an uncomfortable, faintly disapproving look.

“Easy, Skye,” he murmured. “You know Orion -- ”

But Skye didn’t seem to hear McNully. Instead she tore into Orion.

“Face it, Orion -- you just like being treated like a commoner again and being able to make believe that you don’t have any responsibilities or worries...well, guess what? You’re not a commoner anymore! You’re the Prince of Florence -- you reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?”

Orion’s dark eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Skye’s face.

“Carewyn’s not an unreasonable woman,” he said softly. “I’m certain she would understand the reason behind my secrecy.”

This, if anything, only seemed to make Skye madder.

“Of course she would,” she muttered sourly. “Little Lady Royaume can do no wrong in your eyes, can she?”

She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Orion feeling very resigned and confused. McNully gave a heavy sigh, before facing Orion with a more serious expression.

“She’s overreacting, as usual,” he said, “but she’s still 60% right. It’s risky enough for you to get this close to anyone right now, when your position as Crown Prince is threatened by the likes of Lord Malfoy. He’d frankly love to have something like that over you. But someone from Royaume? The granddaughter of one of the most powerful, wealthy, and feared noblemen in their country? Orion, that’s dangerous.”

Orion leaned his hands on the table, looking down at the map of Florence and Royaume laid out on top of it.

“McNully, I assure you...my objective has not changed,” he said very levelly. “Everything I have done is for Florence -- for peace and balance. I admit, Lady Cromwell is a fascinating woman, and certainly one to be admired...but I spend time with her to gather intelligence I can obtain nowhere else. That is all.”

McNully looked doubtful, but didn’t directly address it. Instead he said, “I understand she’s your eyes and ears inside the palace, and the intelligence you’re getting is valuable...but don’t forget, she isn’t on your team. She’s on Royaume’s. And right now, Royaume is kicking our tail out there, on the battlefield.”

Orion’s dark eyes drifted away from the table as McNully leaned his arms on the table himself.

“It’s getting bad again,” he murmured very seriously. “I know you said the palace of Royaume’s strapped for funds, but somehow or another, they’ve scrounged up enough to get more cannons, and their troops have been moving them around every couple of hours so that our men never know where they’re going to be firing from next. It’s been very effective. Whoever’s been giving Royaume’s King and Queen military strategy lately, they’re a bloody genius.”

McNully clearly was irritated about this, given the flash that shot through his narrowed eyes.

“Your father sent me a request for a counter-strategy this morning. You know it’s likely if the strategy isn’t one he can execute on his own, he may ask both you and me to join him there, on the front lines.”

Orion did not respond. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something oddly detached and avoidant in his posture.

“I know you don’t want that, and you know I have faith in you,” said McNully, “but your strategy is a slow burn, Orion. It requires both patience and time...and we might not end up having as much of those as you think.”

Once again, Orion chose not to answer. McNully sighed again.

“You know I’ll be right behind you in a coach, if you need me,” he said tiredly. “Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion threw on his black traveling cloak and headed back to Royaume not long after, hoping to meet up with Carewyn for an evening stroll. There was a notable chill in the air -- if it got much colder, he thought that any rain might instead come down as sleet or maybe even snow.

When Orion arrived at the gate, however, he was met not by Carewyn, but by KC. She was dressed in a high-necked gown made of black velvet and holding a leather-bound book and a stack of parchment in her arms.

Orion tilted his head slightly to glance at the piece of parchment on the top of the stack, which had several “X’s” scattered over an oddly familiar map.

“Plans to bury some pirate treasure?” he asked pleasantly.

KC gave a lightly amused snort. “No, just military plans.”

Her lightly freckled face then grew a bit more serious. “I guess you’re here for Carewyn?”

Orion had been ready to ask more about the military plans KC was holding, but decided not to circle back to it when she changed the subject.

“Yes. Has she been detained?”

“I guess so...” said KC. Her lips twisted into a concerned frown as she looked out at the darkening sky.

Orion’s eyebrows knit together over his eyes slightly. “You seem concerned.”

KC bit her lip. “Mm...it’s just...well, you see, one of the royal carriages broke down earlier today, when the Queen was riding through the country with Lady Yaxley.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Lady Iris Yaxley, do you mean? Carewyn’s cousin?”

“Yes. No one was badly hurt, fortunately, but the Queen, Lady Iris, and the coachman and footman were forced to ride the horses back and leave the carriage behind. When they got back, they asked the royal carpenter, Charlie Weasley, to go fix it. Charlie said that he probably wouldn’t have the proper tools to fix it here at the castle, so Carewyn offered to ride out with him, so that their horses could drag the coach together to the Weasley family cottage, about forty minutes away. The problem is,” she said with a deepening frown, “they left over two hours ago, and they’re still not back yet. Bill headed out after them on his own horse not long before you got here...he’s Charlie’s brother, so he knows the route they would’ve taken...”

Orion’s dark eyes had narrowed significantly.

“Which road did Sir Weasley take after them?” he asked, his calm voice nonetheless touched with the faintest edge.

KC pointed. “Northwest -- toward the mountains.”

Orion nodded. “Thank you.”

And with this, he turned on his heel and rushed back toward where he thought he might find McNully’s coach. He needed to borrow a horse.

Setting one of the black horses free of the black coach, Orion rode off toward the mountains, his slightly-too-long dark hair flapping freely behind him. The road was well-marked, but it soon veered off into dense woods as it migrated up toward the mountains. Orion had never gone so far west into Royaume before, let alone far from Florence before. Despite himself, he had to acknowledge the beauty of the landscape. The views of the castle below were breathtaking -- it looked as tiny as a toy, and yet the infinite glass windows made it sparkle like some diamond-like beacon in the darkening sky. He wondered if his own palace in Florence looked so beautiful to others, at a distance. As much as he himself hadn’t been raised a prince, it was difficult for him to look at his own palace as anything other than a cage.

As he went further uphill and the sky darkened, it also grew colder. Orion was starting to see his own breath on the air. He thought of Carewyn alone in the cold, perhaps hurt, and had to take several deep breaths to sooth his nerves. He was never in a right state, when he let his thoughts run too wild or his fears chatter too loudly.

Finally Orion caught sight of two familiar ginger-headed men, standing by an overturned coach, covered in mud and missing one of its back wheels. One of the men was the tall, freckled castle guard from the other day who Carewyn called Bill, dressed in his high-collared blue and red patterned uniform tunic and matching white feathered, blue-velvet hat -- the other was much stockier, but no less freckled, dressed in a burgundy-colored tunic and loose brown pants and boots, and he wore his ginger hair in a ponytail not unlike Orion’s when he was at court. When Orion approached them, Bill immediately reacted with suspicion -- Orion explained what KC had told him and asked where Carewyn was, and was incredibly startled to hear her voice coming from over the edge of the cliff.

“I’m down here!”

Orion couldn’t help but feel a flash of concern. He raced over as if to look over the edge, but Charlie lashed out an arm in front of the taller man to stop him.

“Uh, I wouldn’t look over if I were you, mate,” he said, having trouble biting back his laughter despite himself.

He pointed at the broken carriage. Hanging over one of the doors was what looked like the burnt orange and beige skirt of a dress and several wool petticoats.

Orion blinked a few times in great surprise, his tanned cheeks darkening with a faint blush. Bill, however, reacted with anxiety.

“Carewyn!” he shouted over the ravine. “Are you in your underwear down there!?”

“Ugh -- well, I couldn’t very well climb down into this briar patch and wrench this wheel loose in my dress, could I?” Carewyn called back up rather haughtily. “At least my bloomers are slightly akin to the sorts of trousers you all wear.”

“You’ll catch a death of cold out here!” said Bill.

“I’m all right,” Carewyn reassured him. “Ulk -- ugh -- I have the wool jacket Andre made for me on...”

Charlie took a step forward, his eyes moved up toward the darkening sky pointedly so as not to look over the edge as he called down,

“Bill’s right, though, Carewyn -- it’s getting colder by the minute...and it’s getting dark too. Are you sure you can lift that thing up and over all by yourself?”

“Ugh...I admit, it’s a bit difficult!” she called back. “But I think I can manage.”

Recalling Carewyn’s blatant refusal of help in retrieving her horse, Orion -- still fighting back a slight blush -- called over the ravine himself.

“We do not question your capabilities, Carewyn,” he said patiently, “but would you like our help?”

“Ugh -- don’t be silly,” said Carewyn, sounding faintly haughty. “You, Charlie, and Bill would break your necks, climbing down here. And I’m still in my undergarments -- I have no interest in anyone seeing me prance around without proper clothes on, thank you.”

“It’s no use,” Charlie muttered under his breath, “I’ve tried to offer her help for the last hour, but she keeps putting me off, saying she’s fine. I don’t get why she feels like she has to do everything by herself...”

“Probably because she’s always had to, Charlie,” said Bill quietly. His voice betrayed a lot of sympathy and sadness as he exhaled through his nose.

Orion’s black eyes deepened with some compassion for Bill as he called back over the ravine to Carewyn,

“Your points are well made, my lady...but we’d still like to help you.”

“Ugh -- you can help me by leaving me my dignity and not looking over while I’m only half-dressed...ack...”

“Would you accept us doing more than that?”

“Urgh -- I am...sorry to have made you and Bill come out all this way -- but I’m all right, really.”

Bill glanced at Orion out the side of his eye, and then back at the cliff. Despite his distrust of the man, the eldest Weasley was sort of glad he wasn’t the only one who disliked how reticent Carewyn was to accept help.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said earnestly. “I was -- we were worried about you, Carewyn. You and Charlie.”

He and Orion glanced at each other. Bill wished the other man’s expression wasn’t so hard to read. The castle guard tried to twist his uncomfortable frown into a smile that Carewyn would hopefully be able to hear over the edge of the cliff.

“Come on...let’s get you and that wheel up and over so you can get back into your dress.”

There was a silence. Then Carewyn said a bit more quietly,

“...You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Wha -- oh, come off it, Carewyn!” said Charlie exasperatedly. “To hell we do! You think I was mucking about, calling you my pal and saying I needed to figure out a nickname for you? Now let us help you, or I’ll consider making that nickname an irritating one!”

There was another silence. Then Carewyn sighed very loudly and tiredly, and Orion couldn’t help but grin, because he could tell she’d finally given in.

“Oh, all right,” she said begrudgingly. “But I don’t really know how you’re going to help, when you can’t look at me.”

Orion closed his eyes.

“Describe your surroundings, Carewyn,” he said. “Paint a picture for me, with your words.”

“...Well, I’ve gotten the wheel out of the briar patch. I’m trying to roll it back up, but it’s as large as me, and the downward slope and the ice is making it difficult. Plus the wheel isn’t in great shape -- all of its spokes are broken, so there isn’t much for me to push up on, while rolling it uphill.”

“I would’ve told her to just forget it, but it’d be much easier for me to carve a new wheel if I have framework from the old one,” Charlie explained. “I’m already going to have to make the new spokes and hubcap completely out of wood instead of using any gold or metalwork, but it’s still going to take a lot of time...even more so if the old wheel framework can’t be saved...”

Orion considered the matter, visualizing the set-up down below on the inside of his eyelids. “...What’s left of the wheel...is it made of metal or wood?”

“Wood...but there seems to be some sort of metal lining around the rim, held on by nails.”

“That’d be for durability, I reckon,” said Charlie. “Wood alone would get chaffed badly on the ground, moving in a constant circle down cobblestones or over anything rocky.”

Orion opened his eyes and looked over the broken coach. His gaze lingered on the thick leather straps coming off of the front that no doubt would’ve attached it to their horses. Then he abruptly got up, rushing over to undo the straps from the carriage.

“What are you doing?” said Bill, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Orion quickly knotted the long, thick leather straps together with several complex-looking and strong knots.

“Carewyn,” he called over very calmly, “I’m going to lower this down to you -- use the buckle and loop it securely around the inside rim of the wheel, so that it’s tight. Give it a light tug when it’s secure.”

He blindly tossed one end of the rope made out of leather straps over the edge of the cliff. After a minute, he felt a light tug at the end.

“Gentlemen,” Orion murmured to the Weasleys, “I’ll need you to hold this, for just a moment. Carewyn,” he added, as Charlie and Bill both grabbed the end of the makeshift rope and he let go, “I’m going to need you to step onto the wheel yourself and hold on.”

“What?” said Carewyn. “Orion, you can’t lift both me and the wheel -- it’s far too much! I’ll climb up and out myself -- ”

“Not to worry, my lady -- none of us will be doing the lifting,” said Orion serenely.

He led both his black horse and Bill’s chestnut horse over by their reins, and -- taking the makeshift rope from Bill and Charlie again -- he looped the end under the straps of both his and Bill’s saddles. He gave several tugs at all of the connections to make sure they were tight and secure before mounting his horse.

“Sir Weasley, if you would assist me.”

Catching onto Orion’s idea at last, Bill rushed forward so he could jump up onto his own horse.

“Mr. Weasley, you may want to have your hands ready to help Carewyn climb out when she gets close to the top,” said Orion over his shoulder. “Sir Weasley, together now.”

With a lot of effort and strain, the two horses were able to lift Carewyn and the broken wheel up and out of the ravine. Once Carewyn was out, all three men averted their eyes so she could put her dress back on. Once she was suitably redressed in her orange-and-beige dress, snood, and dark scarlet wool jacket, she, Bill, and Orion helped Charlie secure some makeshift posts he’d carved out of some nearby tree branches under the broken coach so that their four horses could lift it up off the ground and help support it without its second back wheel. Then the four hobbled the coach up the mountain the rest of the way to the Weasley family cottage.

The home of the Weasley family, affectionately nicknamed “the Burrow,” was built up against the side of a hill. Attached to the house was a large farm with sprawling pastures and short, rustic wooden fences. Its roof had clearly been patched up multiple times over the years with whatever kind of wood was on hand, making it resemble a patchwork quilt.

When the group arrived, Bill and Charlie’s youngest sibling and only sister Ginny immediately ran out to greet them -- she’d seen them coming up over the horizon and was beyond thrilled to see that it was her eldest brothers. Bill and Charlie’s teenage brothers Percy, Fred, George, and Ron soon followed along after. Fred and George -- who were identical twins -- were quick to crow that Charlie had brought them an early birthday present (namely, the coach), and Percy scolded them that clearly it was for work and they should let it alone. Orion and Carewyn ended up staying back at a distance, both faintly baffled by the amount of warmth and noise emanating from the seven siblings as they chattered amongst themselves, constantly stepping on each other’s feet and interrupting what everyone else was saying. Neither of them had ever encountered a family quite like this before. When Bill and Charlie’s parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, emerged from the house, however, Molly very quickly bustled every last one of them inside, including Orion and Carewyn.

“In you go, the lot of you,” she said in a forceful, but very warm tone of voice. “You all look like you need some supper-- ”

“Oh -- no, Mrs. Weasley,” said Carewyn very quickly, “I couldn’t impose -- ”

“Nonsense, dear!” said Molly, as she took Carewyn’s hands and led her inside. “Why, you’re positively freezing! To think, you came all the way out here without a proper muff for your hands...”

“I had to help Charlie with the carriage,” Carewyn said, her eyes drawn away awkwardly rather than looking at Molly, “I couldn’t hope to have my hands free, using a muff...”

“Then both of you should come inside and get warm,” said Arthur, startling Orion with an amiable clap on the back. “Any friend of Bill and Charlie’s is a friend of our family.”

Carewyn had never been the subject of such coddling and generosity before in her life. Her mother had always taught her to treat people with respect and compassion, of course, but she had been a soft-spoken and understated person, and their family life had always been very quiet. And of course at the Cromwell estate, it had been less modest and quiet, but far less affectionate as well. Never had she ever visited such a loud, crowded, and faintly uncomfortable place that still nonetheless felt like a home, full of warmth and love.

Even Orion found himself feeling a bit unsettled by the Weasley family’s overwhelming hospitality. He’d been in plenty of unruly, crowded, and loud settings like this before -- but none of them had ever been quite this...well, jovial. It made it so that Orion yearned for peace, quiet, and returned distance, and yet also couldn’t help but marvel at the positive vibes that rippled off of this family and how much they could give, despite clearly having so little. When dinner was served, Orion had to politely decline a bowl of beef stew because he didn’t eat meat, and Molly Weasley immediately handed the bowl off to Ron so she could set about making Orion his own plate, piled high with cheesy mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and roasted cauliflower seasoned with garlic and chives.

The Weasley family and their guests sat in an uncomfortable, messy half-circle around the large brick fireplace, laughing and talking as they ate. After supper came the dessert of hot, fresh apple dumplings, and after dessert came some hot tea and scones. After all, said Molly Weasley, having guests over was a rare treat, so they were going to celebrate appropriately. Neither Carewyn nor Orion could remember ever having felt so full in all their lives.

As everyone enjoyed their scones and tea, stories and songs were swapped around the fire. At one point in the evening, twelve-year-old Ginny -- who was perfectly thrilled to have another girl around, for a change -- begged Carewyn to sing for them. Apparently Bill had told his family all about her lovely voice. So, with some encouragement from Charlie, Arthur, and Molly, Carewyn bit back a broad, amused grin, took a deep breath, and started to sing.

“Mother cannot guide you...now you’re on your own.

Only me beside you -- still, you’re not alone...”

Orion had thought to himself that Carewyn must have done the song from his youth proper justice while singing for the Prince, but hearing her sing it in person, seeing her smile at him and her eyes sparkle as she did so...it was a completely different matter. As before, Orion felt all of the tension in his shoulders ebb off of him, as easily as dirt was washed away in warm water. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, tilting his head a bit so that he could hear her better, as his breathing and heart rate slowed. Even with his eyes closed, he could hear a smile in every word Carewyn sang...even when she likely wasn’t smiling at all, he thought. How could she be smiling, when lines like “sometimes people leave you half-way through the wood” and “people make mistakes -- fathers, mothers” rang with such emotion and pain? Was that pain visible on her face? Orion thought not, given Carewyn’s sense of grace and composure...but he heard it, all the same. He felt it -- her heart, aching with a kind of deep, blazing empathy Orion had never encountered in anyone else before.

When Carewyn came to the end of the song, Orion opened his eyes at last. The Weasleys all clapped, delighted, but he barely heard them as he turned to Carewyn.

“...That was remarkable,” he murmured.

Carewyn smiled. “I’m glad you think I did it justice.”

“Mm,” said Orion. “I’ve...never heard anyone drown like that, before.”

Carewyn couldn’t bite back a laugh. “Perhaps I didn’t do it justice then, if I sounded like I was drowning...”

“You were drowning in the words’ meaning,” corrected Orion. “Enveloping and submerging yourself in them -- allowing them to pull you in and take your breath away.”

He smiled, his black eyes very soft upon Carewyn’s face.

“It was...very moving.”

Molly’s face spread into an indulgent smile as she reached forward and patted Carewyn’s hand. “It was absolutely beautiful, dear.”

“Orion’s right, Carewyn,” agreed Arthur. “Your feelings really came through. I could tell the words mean something to you.”

Carewyn offered a polite smile, even as her eyes drifted away. “...I suppose they do.”

“It sounds like a lullaby, sort of,” mused Ron. “Even if it talks about your mother not being around.”

Ginny tilted her head toward Carewyn, Ron’s words prompting concern.

“...Do you not have a mother, Carewyn?”

The rest of the family went very quiet -- some like Percy shot Ginny warning looks, while others like Molly and Ron couldn’t help but glance at Carewyn in similar concern.

Carewyn’s gaze had drifted off onto the fire. Although she was turned away and her face was stoic, however, Orion could see her eyes rippling like turbulent ocean water, before she closed them solemnly.

“...I had one,” she answered softly at last. “She died when I was twelve.”

“Was she sick?” asked Ron, very hesitantly.

Carewyn bowed her head and gave a single, silent nod. Everyone in the room knew what that meant. The Plague had swept through both Royaume and Florence several times, over the span of the War -- one of the worst years was about nine years ago now...probably the same year Carewyn had lost her mother.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon her face. Molly looked like she wanted to envelop Carewyn in the biggest hug and was only holding back the urge because of her husband’s tight, reassuring squeeze to her hand.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured.

Carewyn raised her head at last, her expression once again touched by a small, resilient, pretty smile.

“It’s all right,” she said gently, her eyes only briefly grazing each of the Weasleys’ faces. “I’ll always miss my mother...but I’m getting along all right. And I still have Jacob.”

“Your brother?” asked Percy, and Carewyn nodded.

“He left for War the same day he and I moved in with our grandfather,” Carewyn explained.

“Your brother must be quite a bit older than you, then,” said Orion.

Carewyn glanced at Orion out the side of her eye, smiling slightly. “Nine years older, yes. You know...you actually remind me of him, a bit.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Carewyn was forced to stifle a giggle behind her hand. “Jacob is also the sort to do things in his own clever way. Only he’s a lot more aggressive than you -- and more talkative, and arrogant, and overprotective...”

“And uglier,” inserted Fred.

“And smellier,” added George.

“With a long crooked nose and ears like a bat’s.”

The younger Weasley siblings were all laughing now. Carewyn had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggling.

“No!” she choked. “I don’t mean it like that! He’s wonderful, really. He’s just...well, an absolute idiot about how to interact with other people. He’s completely brilliant, mind you -- he could give you whole lectures about anything from geography to mathematics to physics...but coming up with spontaneous gifts for no occasion at all, just based on someone’s interests? He’d need some prodding, to do something like that.”

She smiled at Orion, who couldn’t help but grin fully in return.

“It was truly nothing at all, Carewyn,” he said. “With your love of music, it felt like that song would be something you would appreciate.”

Arthur glanced at Orion curiously. “Where is that song from, Orion? I’ve never heard it before.”

“I learned it as a boy,” Orion answered. “I would hear it sung outside the window of the workhouse, sometimes.”

Molly looked very troubled. “Workhouse? Orion dear, you don’t mean to say you grew up in one of those terrible places?”

Orion felt Carewyn’s gaze on him. When he looked back at her, her almond-shaped blue eyes were rippling with concern as well, though much gentler and more empathetic than Molly’s. He tried to offer her a smile.

“Let’s just say the words spoke to me as well, at the time,” he said lightly. “Not just to me, either...all of the boys there, one way or another, were where they were because of other people’s ‘terrible mistakes.’”

Orion’s gaze drifted down to his own hands as he lightly clasped them in his lap.

“...The War doesn’t touch you the same way here, but...the closer you are to Florence...the more the reality of it hits you in the face, every day. Even when you’re not on the battlefield itself -- even when you’re just at the border -- you, and the ones you care for, run the risk of getting caught in the crossfire. And on the border of Florence and Royaume...in those towns where it’s hard to tell where one country starts and another begins...tensions are like gunpowder. One spark from the tiniest match can set it ablaze -- can make everything implode, and force you to start all over again.”

His face was unreadable, but his black eyes were endless, rippling with the recollection of the fire and smoke -- the red and blue colors of Royaume, on the saddles of horses -- the life leaving his mother’s eyes -- his own heavy, terrified hyperventilating...

He closed his eyes and took several very deep, measured breaths before continuing.

“In such a place...one can find people desperate enough to want to lash out at others, to avenge their pain,” said Orion solemnly. “But there was one sweet old woman who owned a flower and herb shop near the workhouse. She’d had to rebuild her establishment several times over the years, and from what I understand, she finally had to leave town not long after I did...but every time she caught wind that the army was coming to town, looking for new recruits...she’d sing the song just loudly enough that we boys could hear it through our window.”

He absently played with the crudely carved circular charm on the cord around his neck in one hand.

“And although there were those who still enlisted afterwards...many others did not.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“‘While we’re seeing our side,’ ” she sang again, more softly, “‘maybe we forgot...they are not alone. No one is alone.’ ”

Orion’s lips spread into a smile as he looked at Carewyn, his black eyes rippling gently as he nodded.

“So it’s against the War, then,” murmured Charlie. He glanced at his parents, who both looked concerned.

“Did that woman with the flower shop give you that?” asked Ginny curiously, indicating the charm around Orion’s neck.

“Yes,” said Orion. “She gave it to me one night when I tried to run away, to soothe my nerves. Its effects wore off by the next morning, but I’ve never really had the heart to throw it out.”

Percy sputtered, looking very pale. “Th-then she was a witch?”

“Whoa,” said Fred and George, looking almost too eager.

“Did she turn all the army into pigs?” asked George.

“Did she lure you in and try to cook you in a soup?” said Fred.

Orion smiled indulgently. “Of course not -- ”

“Well, thank Heavens for that!” said Molly, shooting the twins a very reproachful look. “Magic isn’t something to make fun of, you two -- it’s frankly a wonder you weren’t hurt, dear...”

Orion frowned. “There was no danger, Madam Weasley, I assure you.”

“No danger! Orion,” Molly scolded him indulgently, “I applaud your courage...but nature has its own way of things, and any magic that twists it out of shape is more dangerous than it’s worth.”

To the Weasley family’s surprise, Carewyn actually spoke up.

“Mrs. Weasley, men tend fields, plant seeds, domesticate horses and dogs...treat illnesses and injuries...cut hair and wear makeup and put on heeled shoes to make ourselves appear taller. Would that not also be twisting nature’s intent?”

Molly actually faltered somewhat. “Well, yes, but...that’s very different from magic, Carewyn! Magic is...well, it’s wild. Uncontrollable.”

“It’s untamed chaos,” said Arthur more levelly than his wife. “A kind that’s done a lot more harm than good.”

“But it still can be used for good,” said Carewyn very firmly. “And if it has that potential, why must we treat it as though it and all of its users are inherently reprehensible? If magic can be used to save lives, or heal the sick, or even just calm a scared boy down after something horrible...”

She glanced at Orion out the side of her eye.

“...Then it seems to be like any other weapon or tool, or even any other person -- something that could protect or hurt.”

Orion felt like his heart was being flooded with warmth, and his entire expression melted with pride and something like affection as he stared at Carewyn.

She truly is a woman to be admired. The memory of Skye’s irritation and McNully’s warning rippled over Orion’s mind and he found himself faltering. Admire...yes. Anyone could grow to admire such a woman, couldn’t they? To respect and esteem her...to...grow an attachment, to her... Even I? Could I...?

The Weasleys exchanged uncertain looks amongst themselves.

“Come to think of it,” said Ron thoughtfully, “wasn’t there that old myth about fairy godmothers who grant you wishes?”

Fred brought an arm roughly around his younger brother’s neck and put him in a rough choke hold. “Aww, ickle Ronnie wanting a pwetty new dress?”

“‘Oh fairy godmother, I just gotta have a new dress for the Winter Festival!’” said George in a high-pitched squeal.

“Geroff!” growled Ron, as he pulled free.

“Oh, but that would be fun!” sighed Ginny. “Dancing at the Winter Festival, in the prettiest dress you’ve ever seen...you’re going to the Festival, aren’t you, Carewyn?”

“Probably not, Ginny,” said Carewyn gently, “I’ve got so much work to do...”

“Oh, but you have to!” whined Ginny. “The Festival’s tradition! Right, Orion?”

“So I’ve heard,” Orion said modestly, “but I’m afraid I’ve never attended a Winter Festival either.”

“What?!” said all of the Weasley children except Bill in thoroughly aghast unison.

“It’s the biggest celebration of the entire year -- ”

“Everybody in town will be there -- ”

“ -- well, aside from the noble tarts -- ”

“ -- but hey, who needs them?”

“Everybody makes the best mince pies and hot apple cider -- ”

“There’s dancing and singing and games and gift-giving -- ”

“You just can’t miss it -- ”

Before long, they’d completely gotten off the topic of magic all together, so the Weasleys could tell Orion all about the Winter Festival. Carewyn took the opportunity to start carrying dishes into the kitchen so that she could help Molly clean up. While she did so, Bill pulled her aside.

“Carewyn...can I talk to you? Alone?”

Carewyn blinked, but nonetheless put down the dishes she was carrying and followed Bill off into a secluded corner.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.

Bill bit the inside of his lip, his brown eyes drifting over in the direction of the fireplace where the rest of his family was sitting with Orion.

“Carewyn,” he said slowly, “who is that man, really?”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together. Bill ran a hand over the undone collar of his tunic absently.

“He’s hiding something, I know it. And I’m sure you see it too. He dodges questions he doesn’t want to answer, and as much as he’s even told us tonight about himself, he never gives important details. He lived near the border, but he didn’t mention what town he’s from. He lived in a workhouse, presumably after losing his parents, but he never said what he lost them to.”

“Those things might not be easy for him to talk about, Bill,” Carewyn said softly.

“Yes,” said Bill in a bracing voice, “but he also hopped the walls of the palace, completely ignorant of how tight royal security is and why, has enough time to chase after you most every day, and gets paints from people he can’t identify and learns songs from people who, from the sound of things, practice witchcraft.”

Bill crossed his arms. He clearly was trying to be considerate to Carewyn’s feelings, but couldn’t hold back his concerns.

“Look, I...I understand you like the man. And I understand why -- Ginny and the others seem to have taken to him pretty well, too. But there’s no reason for someone to hold back that many secrets, unless they’re up to no good. He could be a cad, or a criminal, or maybe even something worse. Judging by his stance on magic, he could even be a magician himself...”

His brown eyes narrowed slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“I’m just...worried about you, that’s all,” he said lowly.

Carewyn considered Bill for a long moment. Then, reaching out a hand, she gently took hold of Bill’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Bill...I understand how you feel. And I’m grateful, truly grateful, for your caring. I hardly deserve it, and it...it means a lot to me.”

Bill frowned deeply, ready to say something, but Carewyn cut him off.

“But believe me when I say that people don’t just keep secrets because they mean to do harm. Sometimes -- for some people -- they’ve had to learn to hide themselves and shield their hearts...so much so that even when they encounter good people, it’s hard for them to let their guard down. Sometimes they’ve known so much pain that, even though they’re kind people, they’ve numbed themselves to a degree, just to protect themselves. Lied so much...that it becomes second-nature. Or worse, lie because they don’t know who they can really trust...because so many people have hurt them that they don’t know what trust even feels like anymore.”

Bill’s expression lost some of its edge, though it still looked wary.

“...And if he is a magic user?”

“Then he’s one of the good ones,” said Carewyn firmly.

Bill still looked a bit unsure. Carewyn squeezed his shoulder a bit more tightly, her eyes resting there instead of on his face.

“Bill, my brother is only alive, thanks to magic.”

Bill was startled.

“The Plague swept through our whole house,” said Carewyn lowly. “First the landlord and his family -- then my mother...and then Jacob. We were living hand-to-mouth, and I didn’t have anyone else to go to...so I went to the Cromwell estate.”

Bill’s brown eyes became a little smaller, darkening with grim understanding.

“...You went to your grandfather.”

Carewyn nodded. “He disowned Mum long ago, but he was still our family, so I thought he might be willing to help us. He agreed to take Jacob and me in and nurse Jacob back to health, so long as we paid back his generosity. Grandfather then tracked down a witch who could cast a spell to save Jacob’s life.”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed. “Lord Cromwell hired a -- ?”

“Do not repeat this, Bill!” Carewyn said very sharply and urgently. “To anyone, do you understand? No one.”

Her eyes then softened visibly, becoming grimmer and sadder.

“Jacob was dying. There was no other option.”

Bill looked like he was in pain, just hearing this second-hand. He swallowed, and then gave a nod.

“So that witch saved your brother’s life,” he said quietly.

Carewyn nodded, her eyes full of emotion despite the stoicism of her features.

“The spell she cast bound Jacob’s life to Grandfather’s will. Jacob was brought into the house on a stretcher just after dawn, and within a half-hour...he was up on his own two feet again.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. She could still remember Jacob’s blazing, relieved smile as he barreled down the stairs and threw his arms around her, cradling her like a baby.

“My Wyn -- my sweet Wyn -- ”

Not long after that, though...Jacob’s arms were yanked away -- all of him was yanked away -- held back by Blaise and Claire and Pearl’s husbands, who all had work to together just to restrain Jacob as he fought to reach her, screaming and raging like a mad man --

“WYN! NO! GET OFF OF ME -- WYN! I WON’T LET YOU -- CAREWYN!”

Carewyn opened her eyes, the soft longing fading from her face completely and leaving a much more stony expression behind.

Bill himself, however, looked more troubled than ever.

“You said your brother left for War the same day you and he arrived at the Cromwell estate,” he whispered shakily. “Do you mean that, right after saving your brother’s life...Lord Cromwell immediately sent him off to War -- all while knowing how few men return home alive?”

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly.

“Grandfather sent him to the front, so that Jacob could start paying back the debt I owed him,” she said, her voice very soft and oddly distant. “After all...a man who wouldn’t die, so long as he willed it...would make an excellent soldier.”

Bill looked horrified.

“Then...” he whispered, “...then Jacob’s only alive because your grandfather decides whether he lives or dies? You only know your brother’s still alive after so many years at war...because Lord Cromwell is bound to him through magic, and he’s holding his life over your head?”

Carewyn withdrew her hand from Bill’s shoulder and turned away.

“Carewyn...that’s monstrous!” said Bill, and he was unable to keep his voice from rising. “I didn’t even know magic could do something like that -- but -- but that’s nothing, compared to...”

He couldn’t restrain himself. He actually threw an arm around Carewyn and pulled her into a hug from behind. The small ginger-haired woman stiffened like a startled cat.

“Bill?”

Carewyn looked up at him -- were those tears, in his eyes?

“Have you...never told anyone else, about this?” Bill murmured.

Carewyn tried to turn around, her blue eyes welling up with regret and pain. “Bill...”

She brought a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him the way she used to for Jacob.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I -- I didn’t mean to upset you -- I only wanted to explain why I’m not scared of magic...please forgive me.”

Bill closed his eyes to try to hold back both his righteous anger and his tears.

“Forgive you?” he repeated in a choked voice. “For what, trusting me with the truth?”

“For making you worry unnecessarily,” Carewyn said forcefully, trying to ignore how uncomfortably her stomach was squirming.

Bill opened his eyes, looking both flabbergasted and more upset than ever. “Unnecessarily?”

He roughly grabbed both of Carewyn’s shoulders and forced her to look up at him.

“Now you listen here, Carewyn Cromwell,” he said, taking on the sort of tone he only ever used with his younger siblings when they were being rowdy, “you may get to decide if you want to interact with me or not, or rely on me or not, or accept my help or not. But you don’t get to decide whether I worry about you or not. And from here on out...”

Bill’s brown eyes were blazing with resolve.

“...I’m going to worry about you. Because I hate the thought of someone feeling like anybody else worrying about them is somehow a problem.”

Carewyn was left speechless.

Bill’s face broke into a broad smile through his tears. “Until your brother’s back from the War, Carey, I’ll be looking after you for him -- no arguments, no dismissals, no saying you’re fine on your own. Got it?”

Carewyn looked at Bill, perfectly stunned. Then her gaze fell away toward the floor.

“...It sounds like...I really don’t get a choice in the matter, then,” she whispered.

“Nope,” said Bill, grinning broadly.

Carewyn was unable to fight back the weak smile prickling at the sides of her lips, nor the emotion flooding her eyes, even as she kept her face turned away.

“...And I suppose ‘Carey’...is a suggestion of a nickname you plan to give Charlie, for me?”

Bill’s eyes sparkled fondly. “Well, every one of my siblings has a nickname, in case you haven’t noticed.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #bill weasley #charlie weasley #percy weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #molly weasley #arthur weasley #katriona cassiopeia #charles cromwell #jacob cromwell #my art #my writing #GAAAAHHHH BILLLL #I LOVE YOU SO FRIGGIN' MUCH MY PRECIOUS BOY ;~;#you go be a good big brother and best friend for carewyn you wonderful thing #also ooh hoo hoo~ orion you can claim you're not crushing but you aren't fooling anybody hahahaha #you'll figure out what you're feeling soon enough >D #we're learn more about how magic works in this universe as time goes on of course #but yeah rest assured there's still a lot to unravel in regards to what happened to jacob... >>#and of course this part is another reminder that charles cromwell is a no-good son of a b****

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dothwrites · 4 years ago

Text

part vi of mafia!au

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

COMPLETE

---

Recovery is slow and excruciating.

Castiel’s body has never rebelled against him to this extent. His muscles refuse to do their damn jobs and function. He’s relegated to his bed for days on end, while being forced to endure Sam Winchester’s lurking and Gabriel’s overly effusive attempts to cheer him.

All of those would be fine, except that he hasn’t seen the house’s other occupant, Dean Winchester, except in short glimpses, as though Dean is the rarest of all animals, only seen from a distance.

Which is fucking bullshit, because he can hear Dean’s voice, echoing through the tiny confines of the house, after Dean thinks he’s asleep. Clearly, it’s not the concept of social interaction which Dean finds daunting, but rather, the concept of social interaction with him.

It’s infuriating.

It wouldn’t be as bad if he thought Dean’s avoidance was due to hatred or indifference. But even though he’d been fairly hazy that first morning, he’d seen how Dean’s whole face brightened, he’d felt the hard clutch of Dean’s fingers in his. The look on Dean’s face...Castiel doesn’t want to put a name to it, doesn’t dare try to define it, but he knows for sure that it wasn’t hatred or apathy.

Which means Dean is staying away from him for some other reason and that...

That’s bullshit.

So Castiel does what he’s been doing his entire life and pushes everything aside in favor of a single minded pursuit. This time, he pours all of himself into the mission to get his fucking body to do what it’s supposed to do. He starts with minuscule goals, such as getting out of bed and pacing around his room, but it’s still too much for some.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Gabriel asks, a little sourly, as he stands in the doorway of Castiel’s bedroom.

“Are you sure you should be poking your nose into my business?” Castiel asks back. For all that Gabriel is the elder sibling, they’ve never been under any delusions as to who was actually suited for this business. Gabriel is too flighty, too interested in frivolous pursuits and the mundane workings of everyday life. It was always Castiel who could sink his teeth into a problem, who could take it apart, hold the bloody pieces in his hands, and see how they could be sewn back together into a new animal.

“Whatever,” Gabriel concedes, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “On your own head be it.”

Castiel sneers after Gabriel as he turns to leave. He’s just in time for Dean to poke his head out of his room. It would be comical, if it weren’t so infuriating, to see how quickly Dean’s eyes bulge and his face reddens. Castiel is afforded one swift glimpse before Dean retreats into the safety of his room, slamming the door closed behind him.

Castiel rolls his eyes and starts another circuit around the room.

---

His body might be stubborn but Castiel continues on his conquest of it. Soon, he’s walking laps around the house, followed by short jogs around the property. The safehouse is far enough in the country that, as long as he’s careful, he can exercise outside without garnering too much attention.

The Winchesters and Gabriel watch him with varying degrees of concern.

“I already told you, I’m fine,” Castiel grunts, massaging at his sore calves after a midnight run. “Besides, we can’t afford to stay here forever.”

Judging from the shifty look on Gabriel’s face, this is not the first time someone has mentioned this fact. He also notes that his brother proposes no solution, which means that no one has either managed or bothered to come up with one. Typical.

Castiel’s impatience and ire increases when he considers the reason they haven’t yet moved on. They’re waiting for him to recover, which is an unconscionable burden on his mind. Every minute they spend in this house, waiting for him to get his shit together, is another minute he’s putting them all in danger.

Gabriel lingers in the doorway, saying nothing, yet watching Castiel with an intensity usually only reserved for cupcakes and candy. After a few moments it starts to grate on Castiel’s nerves, yet he waits until he’s fully done with his post-run routine to speak. “Something else you needed?”

“When are you going to talk about it?” Gabriel asks, much too kindly for Castiel’s liking.

“Talk about what? What do to next? I’d love to do that, if it were possible to get you, Sam, and Dean in the same room for longer than five minutes.”

“When are you going to talk about Naomi?”

Castiel’s blood freezes.

“I might be an idiot, but I know enough. I know who Dad’s attack dogs are, and I know how they work.” Gabriel swallows, unwontedly serious. “I saw the marks, Cassie.”

Castiel’s hand makes an aborted jerk to the crook of his elbow where the scars are still livid against his skin. He catches the movement before it has a chance to amount to anything and forces his hand back down to his side. He can still feel the phantom ache of needles pushing into his skin, still remember how it felt when the road forked and reality went one way while his brain went another.

He hasn’t told anyone, but sometimes, he’ll catch movement out of the corner of his eye, turn, and find nothing there. He tries to tell himself that this happens to everyone, that he’s fine, that he’s normal, but there’s always the insidious creeping fear down his spine--What if he’s losing it? What if Naomi fucked him up permanently?

What if he’s never the same?

If he doesn’t have his mind, if he doesn’t have his body, then he’s useless. He can’t protect anyone. He has nothing to offer.

“I’m fine,” Castiel croaks, once he realizes Gabriel is still waiting for an answer.

One eyebrow ticks upwards. “Yeah, once more until I actually believe you.”

“I already said that I’m fine. I don’t know what else you want.”

Gabriel throws his arm wide. “For you to stop trying to run yourself into the ground? For you to stay in a room longer than ten minutes? For you to acknowledge that you maybe have an actual problem?”

Castiel sniffs, retreating into haughtiness to hide his hurt and anxiety. “Well, I’m sorry if I choose to concentrate on more important things, like trying to get well enough to protect us all.”

Gabriel gapes at him. “To protect...” He looks over his shoulder, like he expects to find the Winchesters supporting him. Upon finding no one there, he turns back to Castiel. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Dean and I are fairly good at what we do. Even the stringbean can hit the broad side of a barn. We’re fine.”

The deliberate inflection of his voice suggests that Castiel is somehow not lumped into the general category of ‘fine’.

“Fuck off,” Castiel growls, as a more appropriate comeback fails to materialize. He storms past his brother, hitting him in the shoulder as he makes his way to the bathroom. Gabriel doesn’t try to stop him, but Castiel knows he’s still watching.

Some of his righteous rage is lost when he looks down the length of the hallway and finds Dean standing at the opposite end. He spares a single, startled look at Castiel before he scampers back towards the living room. Castiel’s temper worsens at the sight of Dean’s retreating back.

Dean is a confirmed killer, a man who’s known the feel of a gun in his hand since he could walk. He’s seen Dean in action and admired his skills and ruthlessness. Now he’s watching the same man running scared. Castiel can’t think of anything more pathetic or more frustrating.

Now in a profoundly foul mood, Castiel slams the bathroom door shut. The sound echoes through the house. He twists the knob of the creaky shower, turning the heat all the way up so that steam billows throughout the room. He steps underneath the spray, ignoring the tendrils of pain licking across his body, his tender, scarred skin protesting the rough treatment.

He pushes away the ever present nip of worry (what if Gabriel’s right, what if he’s weak, what if he’s broken beyond repair) and scrubs at his skin until tiny pinpricks of blood well up, and then he scrubs some more.

---

Matters come to a head a few days later.

No longer content with pushing his body through runs, Castiel’s taken to shadow boxing in the house’s basement. He dances around the dank, mildewy space in his bare feet, tossing punches and kicks at imaginary enemies. His muscles scream at the exercise and threaten to collapse and tear, but he pushes on anyway.

His thoughts are spiraling ever downward, dovetailing with his exhaustion. Castiel’s so lost within their grip that the opening of the basement door escapes his attention. Even the weary creak of the step doesn’t catch his attention. He’s formed bad habits in his convalescence. In his world, such laziness gets people killed.

When he catches sight of Dean standing at the foot of the stairs, he jumps in surprise. Embarrassment flushes his cheeks red, and he hides his shame with snippiness. “Did you need something?”

Castiel paces around the basement, grabbing a bottle of water, just to give his hands something to do. He tries to unscrew the top but gives up after two tries. He doesn’t want Dean to see how badly his hands are trembling.

“You know that we’ve got your back, right?” Dean finally says. Castiel stops pacing. He wasn’t expecting that.

Despite his surprise, he recovers quickly. “Coming from a Winchester, that isn’t exactly inspiring,” he sneers.

Dean doesn’t try to hide his flinch. Castiel feels an irrational stab of guilt at that. “I just thought you should hear it from someone who wasn’t your brother,” he says, already turning to go back up the stairs. “But you have all three of us. Him, Sam.” Dean pauses for a second. “Me.” He continues on quickly, like he wants Castiel to forget about the slight emphasis he put on himself. “Anyway, you don’t have to do this every day. Take a day off before you kill yourself.”

Castiel’s upper lip lifts reflexively. So, Dean’s joined forces with Gabriel. Next, he supposes Sam Winchester will find him and urge him to talk about it, you’ll feel better if you get it all out in the open.

“Stay,” he says, brain running ahead of his common sense. Dean pauses, his foot already on the step. “It’s no good shadow boxing. I need a partner.”

Dean wants to argue. Castiel can tell by his hesitation, the twitch of his fingers, the way he closes his mouth on whatever he was going to say. Castiel waits, head cocked to the side. He doesn’t quite smile in victory when Dean makes his decision, but he must give off the impression of it, as Dean’s expression darkens.

“You know this isn’t doing you any good,” Dean says, as he sheds his flannel overshirt. The fabric has barely hit the floor before Castiel is on him, swinging at his head in a wild, haymaker punch. Dean blocks him easily, but the suddenness of the attack surprises him, as he lurches backward.

“What the hell?” he spits, a mixture of fury and worry spread across his face.

Castiel dances back, shifting his weight between the balls of his feet. His fists are held up close to his jaw, elbows tucked in close to his sides to protect his ribs. Within seconds, Dean copies his movements, but with slight differences. Castiel keeps himself contained, taut, muscles coiled in a defensive posture. Dean is looser, his left hand lazily extended, though Castiel doesn’t fall for the trap. That left hand can just as easily block blows as it can land a stinging jab.

When it comes to Dean Winchester, there are dozens of traps, and Castiel seems to have fallen into all of them.

They spend several long minutes circling each other, exchanging tentative jabs in a dance of blocks and dodges. They learn what blows the other considers threatening and what the other will shake off.

Castiel changes the tempo when he aims a low kick at Dean’s hip. Dean twists out of the way, but when he turns back to Castiel, something in his face has changed. His eyes have hardened, his fingers curled purposefully into his palm. Castiel understands. Dean was just passing the time earlier, indulging his whimsy. For whatever reason, now he’s made up his mind to act.

“You need to take it easy,” Dean tells him. He moves easily into Castiel’s space, each motion screaming aggression. He bats away Castiel’s jab; Castiel blocks Dean’s punch. They fall apart, sharp eyes raking over the other in a search for weaknesses.

“You need to mind your own business,” Castiel replies. He has to concentrate on speaking; already he’s a little short of breath, though he’d rather chew off his own fingernails rather than admit that to Dean. “What I do is none of your concern.”

Dean falters at that. His defenses lower, which allows Castiel to dart in, landing several snap punches to Dean’s ribs before Dean regains himself and forces him back. Something dangerous flashes in the depths of Dean’s eyes, and a vicious satisfaction rises in Castiel’s chest. This is what he wanted, this is the Dean Winchester that he--

The thought hits him, unbidden and unwelcome, and Castiel freezes. His inattention gives Dean the opening he needs. Where Castiel fights with precision and accuracy, Dean favors overwhelming force. It’s a strategy which works well for him and he uses it to devastating effect, foregoing fancy footwork and devious punches for a simple, unavoidable attack. Dean puts his head down and charges, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist in an attempt to throw him to the ground.

It’s a perfect storm: His muscles, still not where they were before, falter. His balance, another casualty of Naomi’s untender mercies, isn’t enough to save him from catching his heel against an irregularity on the cheap mat he’s laid out. Dean is a hurricane, a typhoon, and underneath his onslaught, Castiel tumbles backward.

Castiel’s back hits the ground, hard enough to knock the breath out of him. His head slams into the ground, and his vision spins for several, vital seconds. By the time he regains his equilibrium, Dean is already atop him, knees clamping in hard against his ribs. One of Dean’s hands wraps around his throat, fingers flexing in warning.

“Enough,” Dean says tightly. “Whatever you’re trying to prove, enough. We get it, all right? You’re a big badass who doesn’t need anyone. We get it.”

If he weren’t staring so closely at Dean’s face, then Castiel would miss his quick flash of emotion. As it is, it’s there and gone before he has a chance to really examine it, but for the moment, it’s enough to know that it exists.

Castiel slumps back onto the floor, allowing his exhausted muscles a moment’s respite. Dean, ever cautious, doesn’t relent. Smart man. Ruthless. Focused. He’s a killer, Dean Winchester, and whatever is broken in Castiel’s brain is drawn to that part of him, just as much as it’s drawn to the well-hidden, softer aspects of him, like his obvious affection for his brother and his insistence on protecting civilians.

But for all of his admirable qualities, Dean Winchester is still just a man. Castiel tips his head back, baring the vulnerable stretch of his throat to Dean’s gaze. It’s a deliberately submissive gesture, one designed to draw the eyes. He feels the exact moment Dean loosens his grip, distracted, and it’s that moment that Castiel acts.

He bucks his hips up in a single, sharp motion, while striking out at Dean’s elbow. With his support gone, Dean buckles. While there are countless activities which Castiel could imagine partaking in with Dean slumped overtop him, he’s not interested in any of them. Instead, he uses Dean’s momentum against him, rolling them until their positions are neatly reversed.

Dean snarls and curses, but Castiel has him pinned, much more securely than Dean did him. His knees presses down on Dean’s right wrist, immobilizing his strongest arm. Castiel leans forward. With his superior position, he doesn’t need to hold back his panting, doesn’t need to feel ashamed for the several beads of sweat which slip down from his forehead to the tip of his nose, to fall upon Dean’s throat.

“I don’t need your permission to do anything,” Castiel says, once he thinks he can speak without wheezing through a sentence. “I’m not weak, I’m not broken, I’m not whatever else you three think I am. I’m fine.” Before he can stop himself, the words come tumbling out, the ones which he’d meant to keep close to his chest. “So you can stop running from me, or whatever it is that you’ve been doing. I’m fine.”

Emotion twists across Dean’s face again, and this time, Castiel is in a position to examine it. Surprisingly, when he’s forced to put a name to it, the definition he comes up with is guilt. He tilts his head to the side in confusion, only realizing after he sits back on Dean’s stomach that he’s left himself vulnerable to an attack.

Dean doesn’t take the opening. He lays passively underneath Castiel and doesn’t try to squirm away, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t do anything. If Castiel had to guess, then he would say that Dean enjoys being there. Or at least, he would if he could get that awful, hangdog look off his face.

“What is it?” he asks. There’s something there, writhing underneath the surface of Dean’s expression, something that probably shouldn’t see the surface but it has to.

Dean turns his head away. It’s a childish move, one that irritates Castiel, as it’s an extension of what Dean’s been doing for days. He’s avoiding Castiel, running from him, which is infuriating. Dean Winchester is many things, but a coward, he is not.

“Answer me.” He takes Dean’s jaw in his hand and forces Dean to meet his eyes. He stares at Dean, the same stare guaranteed to make hardened criminals think twice and civilians piss their pants.

It makes Dean blink, but it’s enough. That blink starts an avalanche, and eventually, Dean’s whole face crumples. He blinks, hard and fast, green flickering in and out of existence.

“It was my fault.” Dean’s voice comes out as a tortured whisper. Castiel holds Dean’s jaw prisoner between his fingers, now allowing Dean to turn away. At first, Dean jerks against the restricting hold, but once the first wall crumbles, all the rest fall quickly, and Dean stares him down.

“What was your fault?” Castiel asks, when no more information is forthcoming.

For a moment, he thinks Dean will pull away, but Dean surprises him. It’s obvious that he’s struggling with his admission, but it comes. Haltingly, in little fits, but it comes.

“If it hadn’t been for me...Fuck, Cas, are you going to make me say it? If it weren’t for me, then you would be fine. You’d be with your family, head of the family, and you’d be...” Dean forces a swallow. His eyes perform a swift sweep of Castiel’s figure, down to his chest, where the scars still linger.

“It fucking killed me to see you like that.” Dean’s hand rises and Castiel doesn’t move to stop him, not even when Dean’s fingers sneak underneath the hem of his shirt to stroke against his skin. His breath catches as Dean’s calloused fingertips catch against the scabbed edges of his wounds. Every instinct screams for him to move, to run, to flee, but he forces his muscles to inaction and allows Dean to explore him through touch. “God, Cas...You were...”

Dean looks up at him. His expression is naked and raw. Castiel feels exposed just witnessing it. “You’re a fucking force of nature,” Dean whispers, pressing his palm flat against the quivering skin of his belly. “You’re a goddamn hurricane, and...”

When he stares at Dean, Castiel sees an unfathomable, looming wave rising in his eyes, the same wave which he feels swelling in his own chest. He leans forward, and Dean’s hand slides from his stomach to his back. The skin there is marred as well, and he gasps softly as Dean’s thumb strokes over a particularly deep wound.

“It was my choice,” Castiel whispers. He’s hovering low over Dean, their chests almost brushing. He’s close enough that if he wanted, he could count the freckles dotted across the bridge of Dean’s nose. Dean blinks. From his vantage point, Castiel can appreciate the thick curtain of golden lashes fanning across his cheek.

“I made the call, not you. I knew what had to be done, and I did it. You think I could have been happy there, knowing you were dead? That I’d had a chance to stop it and did nothing? Every second was worth it because that was another second you were safe. I made the choice, and I’d make it again, in a heartbeat. Don’t take that from me.”

“Goddammit, Cas,” Dean breathes. His hand is heavy against Castiel’s spine, but for once, Castiel doesn’t bristle at the restraint. “I’m not worth that.”

Castiel’s mouth is not made for smiling. In fact, sometimes he thinks he’s forgotten the knack of it. But around Dean, his face moves easier. An actual smile, not the sarcastic, threatening expression he usually plasters on his face when he feels like intimidating someone, tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Lucky for both of us, you don’t get to make the decisions,” Castiel whispers.

He’s not sure which of them moves first. Either way, the end result is the same. His lips crash into Dean’s and Dean receives him with a low moan of delight, his mouth opening automatically. Castiel cards his fingers through Dean’s short hair, tugging at the strands as he maps out the interior of Dean’s mouth.

The first time he kissed Dean, he’d been selfish. He’d been standing on the edge of his darkest moment, and he’d wanted something golden to take with him, something to hold through the horror. The second time he kissed Dean, he’d been half out of his mind, clinging to the barest hint of reality. He hadn’t even realized Dean was kissing him until it was over.

This time...

The third time he kisses Dean, Castiel takes his time.

---

The atmosphere in the house relaxes.

Castiel stops pushing himself quite so much, and his muscles, glad for the reprieve, begin working as they should. Day by day, his strength increases, and Castiel takes full advantage of this.

Dean enjoys being pinned and Castiel aims to please.

The four of them hold contests--who is the quickest draw, who’s the best shot, who has the best accuracy with knives. Sam Winchester, it turns out, is a damn good shot, especially when Castiel considers his youth.

The four of them work well together. Their personalities clash, sometimes terribly, but they also complement each other, pragmatism warring with emotion, brawn matching brains. Castiel laughs as he looks around the room, realizing that, for possibly the first time in his life, he’s comfortable. Amazing, that he can relax in a room with two Winchesters, but there it is. He trusts Sam and Dean, more than any member of his family, to watch his back.

(No doubt Dean would throw in an off-color comment about being all too happy to watch Castiel’s back, but he chooses to ignore Dean’s rather childish sense of humor.)

The question naturally arises, as to their next move.

“The smartest thing to do would be to split up.” It’s Castiel who says it, because it’s always Castiel who retreats to the fortress of cold logic. Three pairs of betrayed eyes stare him down. Castiel returns the stare. “It makes the most sense. There’s four of us; if we all split up, we’d stand a better chance of escaping. We could start over. Be whoever we wanted to be.”

(Gabriel’s been fighting against the Novak name since he was old enough to know there was something to fight against. Sam Winchester has never wanted the mantle of the Winchester family; he’s dreamed of something else, something altruistic, far away from the dark cloud of John Winchester. Dean...All Dean knows is duty to his father, but Castiel already knows that he’d follow Sam wherever he went. And Castiel...well...He can always try to take back the Novak family. No doubt he’ll fail, but he’s a weapon, a hammer. He doesn’t know how to be anything else.)

“Fuck that,” Dean says, crude and succinct as always. “Your splitting up plan, not your be whoever we want to be plan.”

Dean leans forward. His eyes lock onto Castiel’s. It’s as though they’re the only two people in the room. “Look at us. We wouldn’t have gotten you out if we hadn’t worked together. You wouldn’t have been able to get me out if we hadn’t worked together. You, me, Gabriel, Sam...we’re just better together.”

Dean’s words touch something vulnerable in his chest, something Castiel has never bothered to acknowledge. What else was there for him, other than a life of violence? There was no room in the Novak family for love, no room for freedom.

Dean makes him dream it’s possible.

“They’ll look for us,” Castiel says, in a last ditch attempt at realism. “Not only the Novaks. The Winchesters too. They won’t like the idea that people are capable of defying them.”

“So let them come.” It’s Sam’s voice, ringing clear from the table. He might have come to this house as a child, but he’s matured in the time since he’s been here. Castiel trusts him just as much as anyone else sitting at the table. “Dean’s right. If there’s four of us, then we stand a better shot. We’ll watch each other’s back.”

“Careful there, Samsquatch,” Gabriel hums, his eyes dancing over the rim of his glass. “Your back is a little big to watch.”

Sam shoots Gabriel a disparaging look and Castiel has to struggle to bite back his laugh. How could he dream of giving this up? These people are his friends, his...

His family.

“So we go. We’ll go somewhere new, make our own destinies. Team Free Will.” Dean takes a drink from his glass.

“Nifty title, but I think you’re leaving a few steps out,” Gabriel says. “I’m all in favor of Team Free Will, but exactly how are we going to make our way in the world?”

Gabriel’s eyes cut to Castiel. It’s Castiel who always has the answer, Castiel whose brutal logic always comes rushing forth at times like these.

And this is the time for logic. Both the Novaks and the Winchesters have considerable financial resources, and they’ll stop at nothing to regain their lost sense of pride. If they’re found, then the best they can hope for is a quick death. Castiel might have tucked the majority of his finances away, but his funds won’t stretch nearly as far or as long as he’ll need them to. They’ll have to get jobs. Or else...

Maybe they could move to a different city and start their own family. Maybe, one day, they could come back here and take back what’s rightfully theirs.

Castiel glances over at Dean. They could run this town. They could have it all.

“I don’t know,” Castiel finally answers, ostensibly answering Gabriel, but never looking away from Dean.

“I guess we’ll make it up as we go.”

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #gabriel #mafia!au #part vi of vi #finally done #complete #dothwrites

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mcwriting · 4 years ago

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call me, beep me

In which I wrote a Kim Possible AU :)

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 3865

Warnings: literally none lol it’s all fun and fluff

“Toooom!” you exclaimed in a loud cry. He had clumsily knocked over part of your science fair project, a diorama of the solar system. His misstep caused Pluto to pop off the wire and dented Neptune a little.

“Oh my gosh, y/n, I’m so sorry, let me get that-” he started to reach down and grab the littlest planet at the same time as you, causing both of your heads to bump together.

You each jumped back again, exclaiming “ow!” and rubbing your temples simultaneously.

Things had been off between you and your childhood best friend lately.

You’d been attached at the hip since preschool, and though you had your ups and downs, had always stayed friends. You were partners in (fighting) crime, but now it was like you were out of sync and couldn’t figure out why.

“It’s okay, Tom. Seriously. I can fix it myself. You need to work on your project anyways, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. If it makes you feel any better, most people don’t even consider Pluto a planet anymore, so I kinda did you a favor.”

“You take that back! Pluto is so a planet!”

As you both laughed it off, a familiar four-toned beep came from your pocket.

“What’s the sitch, Jacob?” you asked into the phone, where your friend could be seen sitting at his computer.

“Hey, y/n. I was checking out Dr. Gyllenhaal’s purchase history lately, and well... tell me if this sounds fishy: 200 pounds of cherry flavored jello mix. That might not sound too bad except that he’s at the villain convention and just snatched the last 30 liters of mind-control juice. The first person you look at after ingesting some can control what you do unless you can reverse it. Oh, and he invited you and everyone else in town to a cookout at the park tomorrow.”

“Well, definitely doesn’t sound like any regular cookout. I’ll check things out. Give me location on the convention and we’ll head over,” you responded, annoyed that you needed to take a pause on your project that was due the next morning.

“I’m gonna ask him why he chose cherry. I mean, really. All the flavors in the world and you pick cherry!?” Tom said incredulously. You rolled your eyes in amusement and grabbed his arm.

“Come on, jello boy. Let’s go.”

The year’s convention was the place to be.

The villain counsel had gotten together and gotten a spot at the biggest venue in Rio, and everyone had been able to share conquests and victories along the beach.

Which is where Dr. Gyllenhaal was happily sipping on his frozen drink in the sun as his henchwoman, Daisy, lounged nearby.

“So you really think jello is the way to go, huh? Not a mixer at the club? It’d be a lot more fun that way,” she trailed.

“Y/n y/l/n and that... that... buffoon of hers are in high school. They cannot go to clubs. But jello! I mean who doesn’t love jello!?”

“Well... me for one. And cherry, really? Cherry? Couldn’t have at least gone for strawberry?”

“Cherry is the best flavor and you know it! Now let me enjoy my drink in peace before we head back to the lair.”

“Better sip quickly. I think that’s her and her little friend on the parasail that just disconnected from the boat,” Daisy said nonchalantly, sunglasses pulled down to see you gliding towards the beach.

“WHAT!?”

He threw the drink aside and sat up quickly.

You and your parachute were floating down gracefully as Tom was struggling. His naked mole rat, Tessa, was desperately trying to detangle him but to no avail, so he decided to bail, dropping into the ocean with a large splash.

You couldn’t help but shake your head as you detached and landed on the beach, doing a somersault to break your fall.

“Miss y/l/n, nice of you to arrive,” Dr. Gyllenhaal sneered as you stood. You were about to answer when Tom was clumsily thrown onto the sand by the crashing tide.

“And you brought your little boyfriend, too.”

You looked down in surprise at Tom, who gave you the same deer-in-the-headlights look.

“We’re not- I mean he isn’t-”

“Y/n and I would never- What are you-”

You both stammered.

“Oh how cute. They’re blushing.” Daisy teased. “Now, time to kick your butt.”

With that you ensued in typical hand-to-hand combat along the beach, using your tumbling skills to narrowly avoid Daisy’s glowing fists along with other beach obstacles.

“Where’s the juice!? I know you have it!” you exclaimed between handsprings.

“Isn’t that a funny question. You know I have some right here but-” Gyllenhaal pulled out a flask with the liquid to gloat, but tripped, the lid popping off and liquid beginning to splash out. “Oops!”

It was heading towards both you and Tom, so you turned to say, “Don’t let it get in your mouth!”

Some splashed onto yours and Tom’s faces. He cringed and ran towards the ocean.

“Tom what are you-” you couldn’t finish the thought, because as you were watching, a drop fell from your lips onto your tongue.

Suddenly, you felt inclined to do whatever Tom said. He was washing his face off with the salt water when you turned back around to look at your nemesis.

"Ooh let’s see if this works. Okay y/n. Tell me I’m pretty,” Gyllenhaal said, looking at you expectantly. You furrowed your brows.

“Hmm. Maybe it needs to be an action. Y/n, go get me another piña colada.”

“What do you think I am, your slave?” you retorted sarcastically. His jaw dropped.

“But I- I bought so much... WHY ISN’T IT WORKING?” he cried out.

Tom appeared next to you again.

“Hey y/n could you tell me if my hair’s messed up?”

You looked at him and without a thought answered.

“Oh yeah it’s parted weird. Lemme fix that.” You reached out and flopped a strand over.

Dr. Gyllenhaal had a startling revelation.

“Oh no. Oh my gosh. YOU.YOU BUMBLING IDIOT. You’re the one who has the power to control y/n now? Oh dear. Daisy, we need to go at once!”

With that they sped off on a scooter, getting away once again.

“What was he talking about? Oh hey, my shoe’s untied. Could you get that?” he asked. Usually it was a joke between you that you’d never tie his shoes, but immediately you were knelt down double knotting his laces.

You stood up, confused at what had overcome you, but quickly realization washed over your face.

“You...” you whispered. “I drank the juice, and now you get to control me until we can figure out a remedy...”

“What? No way, y/n. That’s crazy talk. If I had the power to control you, I’d tell you to eat an avocado and you’d actually do it.”

Ugh. Avocados.

One of your least favorite foods. They disgusted you, but without second thought you ran to find one, ravenously peeling off the skin with your bare hands and eating the soft fruit inside.

Tom looked at you in shock and horror.

“OH MY GOSH I”M CONTROLLING YOUR MIND!” he exclaimed, hands thrown upward onto his head. He started pacing and muttering to himself nervously.

You quickly finished the avocado, tossing the skin and pit aside. You wiped your mouth and immediately you were disgusted with yourself, the taste still lingering in your mouth.

“Ugh. That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Well call Jacob and figure out how to undo it!”

Immediately you pulled out your phone and rang him up, explaining the situation.

“... and it would really be nice if Tom could get me some water,” you muttered after telling Jacob what had happened.

“Why don’t you get it yourself?” Tom asked, prompting you to run to the nearest snack shack and grab yourself a water. You drank it in annoyance as Tom looked at you sheepishly.

“Well... here’s the problem... so far there’s no known antidote, y/n. Sorry. I’ll see if I can figure it out though,” Jacob explained. You groaned.

“Yeah, okay. Keep me in the loop. And while I’ve got you, could you send us a ride home?”

“Sure thing, y/n. I’ll be in touch,” Jacob added, screen going black as he ended the call.

“Welp, y/n. This is going to be fun, right?” Tom asked enthusiastically.

“Sure. Fun.”

You were quickly putting together Tom’s baking soda volcano as he lounged nearby on your bed. He’d used his new power to get you to finish his project for him.

“As soon as we figure out the cure, I’m so gonna pummel you,” you said as you painted red drips around the rim and sides.

“Maybe it’s best that we don’t find that cure...” Tom started, until you shot him a glare. “Kidding! Kidding. Seriously though, y/n, I’ll repay you for doing this. It’s just, we all know you’re the smart one in this pairing.”

You perked up and looked at him funny as you continued to work.

“Pairing?”

“Well, yeah sure. I mean I couldn’t say couple, and well... I couldn’t think of a better word. Friendship doesn’t sound right either.”

You turned around, cheeks warm.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked quietly.

“We’re more than just friends, y/n. Everyone knows that. We’ve been at each other’s sides for forever. I just feel like only calling us friends doesn’t really encapsulate our relationship.”

“Oh... yeah. I see,” you said, a couple nervous chuckles leaving your breath as you moved on from painting lava to gluing fake trees around the volcano.

“What do you see it as, y/n?”

You felt the urgency to answer truthfully but wasn’t really sure how to. Like you’d said before, it was complicated.

“Well I... I don’t know. You’re my best friend, Tom. I’m not really sure what else to say.”

Tom looked down at Tessa, who was asleep in his hand.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, of course. I mean, that’s probably how anyone else would describe it...” he trailed. You felt yourself deflate in the same way Tom did, but you’d been honest.

You kind of had to be, after all.

After a few minutes of rare silence between you two, Tom spoke up again.

“Hey y/n? You don’t have to keep working on that. It looks incredible as it is and I owe you a million for it.” You stopped what you were doing and leaned away from the project.

“You know, I think I’m gonna head home. Tessa’s pretty much konked out and I’m pretty exhausted, too. It’s probably best that you finish up your work and hit the hay after I leave.”

You knew his statement wasn’t supposed to be a command, but now you’d be doing just that as soon as he was out the door.

He got up to leave, stuffing the sleepy mole rat into his pocket where she often hid and you stood from your place on the floor.

“I’ll get all this stuff in the morning when I come to pick you up, okay?” Tom said. You nodded, a slight, lopsided grin on your lips.

You both stood awkwardly for a second before you leaned in, giving him a hug like you often did when parting ways. His arms engulfed you.

“Good night, y/n.”

“Night, Tom.”

With that you parted and he was out the door. As soon as you heard the front door shut, you were back to fixing your solar system.

As you got ready in the morning, thoughts about the prior night came bubbling up.

You hadn’t really had much thought about it before, because you’d been “ordered” to do your school project and go to bed, not leaving much time for reflection.

Are we just best friends? Are we not? I mean we aren’t a couple but we’ve got more going on than the average best friend, right? Am I just saying this because we fight crime unlike everyone else? Do I like-

You were snapped out of your thoughts when your younger twin brothers called up, signaling that Tom was at the door. A few moments later he appeared at your bedroom.

“Mornin’ y/n,” he said, chipper as ever. It seemed that he was going to put the previous night’s events behind him. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, just a second. I forgot to take your project to my car before you got here.”

“Oh I can get mine,” Tom offered, stuffing a tri-fold under his arm and picking up the volcano with his hands.

“You- you’re not gonna make me do it?” you asked.

“What? Nah. I’m actively trying to not mind control you today. I feel bad about doing it.”

“It’s going to happen eventually, you know. But come on. I don’t want to be late to the science fair.”

Yours and Tom’s displays were next to each other in the gym and for the most part, everything was going well.

He’d slipped up a couple of times in the mind control department, but they were simple questions, so no one really picked up on it.

As you were preparing for the fair to start, you rolled your eyes as your co-caption on the cheer squad (and high school enemy) Zendaya walked up.

“Oh my gosh, y/n. What’s this? A solar system? That’s it?”

“I mean my dad’s a rocket scientist. And did you forget the fact that I’ve been to space? Maybe if you read my poster you’d understand that my project is about more than just some floating space balls.”

“Ugh. Whatever. Mine’s gonna win either way,” she bragged, earning another eye roll.

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” you grumbled.

She flicked her hair and turned on her heel, headed back to her area. You huffed at her annoying arrogance.

“Don’t worry about it, y/n. You’ve got this,” Tom encouraged. Suddenly all tension left you.

Maybe this mind control stuff isn’t always bad. At least not when you’ve got the best kind of cheerleader by your side.

You looked at Tom with a soft smile. He was paying attention to Tessa, so he couldn’t see the way you were studying him.

Over the years, you’d seen more of Tom than practically anyone else had, but yet you still found yourself trying to memorize every little mark and freckle on his face. You analyzed each curl of his hair. The way his lashes fluttered when he blinked.

You snapped out of it when he looked back up at you.

“You okay, y/n?” he asked.

“What? Oh, yeah. Just got distracted for a second. That’s all.”

Before he could press you further, your phone beeped.

“Hey Jacob. Any updates?”

“Well... I have an update, but it’s not necessarily the best news. There aren’t any known antidotes for the juice yet. I even emailed the seller under a fake name and he couldn’t give me a good answer. I got my hands on a little and will send some to the lab. Hang tight. Oh, and good luck with your project.”

You said some parting words and hung up.

“Well great. We’re no closer to solving this and we have to figure out a way to get everyone in town to not eat the stupid jello unless we can find a cure. This is shaping up to be just the best.”

“Hey. It’s okay. Just focus on presenting your project for now and beating Zendaya, okay? You can definitely do that.”

And once again, you felt yourself succumb to his words as the judging began.

“See. I told you you could do it,” Tom said excitedly as you carried a large trophy home.

“I had a feeling I would anyways, but I was kind of under order to win, so there was no way I’d take anything less than first.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s my girl,” Tom said offhandedly, taking a second to realize the implications of what he may have said. “And- and by my girl I don’t mean my girl I mean you’re just my best... um.. you know...”

“Tom. It’s okay. I get it. We don’t need to start this again right now. Now we need to focus on stopping Gyllenhaal and finding a cure. Plus, I need to change into a cute outfit for the cookout.”

Hours of brainstorming and you were still no closer to finding a solution, but most of town was now gathered at the park feasting on hot dogs, hamburgers, and all the chips and potato salad they could handle.

The jello had yet to make an appearance on tables, and there was no sign of Dr. Gyllenhaal or Daisy as you and Tom approached the families chowing down and having fun.

You couldn’t, however, ignore the large curtained stage on one side of the park.

After hanging out with Tom and some other friends, the curtain suddenly opened, revealing your nemesis on the stage, microphone in hand.

“Good evening, friends. I’m your friendly neighborhood Dr. Gyllenhaal, and tonight I’m going to be your musical entertainment. But first! We want everyone to feast on the finest dessert, so jello for everyone!” he exclaimed.

You stomach dropped.

“Tom we gotta act fast. You help stop people from eating the jello and I’m going to try to get him off stage.”

As you split up, you got another beep on your phone.

“Hurry, Jacob. I don’t have much time.”

“Okay, okay. I think I just solved your problem. You remember that movie Ella Enchanted?”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t see the correlation.”

“Well remember when at the end, the only way Ella breaks her curse is by talking to herself in the mirror..?”

“Oh my gosh you’re a genius. If the first person you look at is yourself, then you’re still in control! Anyway you can hook us up with some mirrors?”

“Already on it. But first, you need to test it on yourself just to make sure. I think Gyllenhaal has some extra juice hidden behind the stage if you can get your hands on it.”

“On my way. Thanks, Jake. You’re a lifesaver.”

You sprinted towards the stage, now in a different pursuit than before. You darted around the side, looking around to see if there were any bottles you could grab a quick swig from.

“Oh no you don’t,” a voice called from behind you. Daisy.

“Look, I just want some of the juice for myself alright? Nothing else.”

Yet.

“Oh we’ve got a good girl gone bad, huh? I don’t buy that sister.”

She lunged at you and once again you were in typical combat, flipping around and swinging off stage rigs, trying to get to the lone bottle of juice that was resting in the bed of a truck.

After a couple minutes, you were able to outsmart Daisy and grab the bottle. You pulled a compact from your pocket and looked straight into the mirror.

“This better work,” you muttered, tossing back some of the liquid and looking into the eyes of your reflection.

You didn’t feel any different, so you swung up onto the stage and knocked Gyllenhaal over, searching the crowd for Tom as you tried to trap the mad scientist.

“Tom! Tom tell me to do something!” you cried out upon seeing him. He was furiously rushing between tables trying to prevent people from eating the jello.

“What? Like what? I don’t want to ruin the mission!”

“Just say whatever! Hurry!”

“Okay fine! Eat another avocado!”

Dr. Gyllenhaal looked up at you expectantly, but you had no desire to find the green fruit, not even a twinge. Instead, you continued what you were doing before.

Dr. Gyllenhaal, on the other hand, paled.

“Oh dear,” he whispered nervously, realizing you had found a solution to the problem he had created.

“Daisy get the helicopter! Hurry!” he cried out, slipping from your grip and running away like he always did.

You let him go to focus on helping anyone who had eaten the jello, those of which Tom was trying to round up so you could help them.

After getting everyone cured, Jacob had called the lab he was working with to get the jello and dispose of it properly, allowing them to run more tests, too, now that they knew the cure.

You stood aside, arms crossed in satisfaction, as Tom approached.

“So you’re you again? Nothing I say can affect you?”

“Well I wouldn’t put it that way, but I’m definitely not eating any avocados or tying your shoelaces in the near future.”

He gave a chuckle and you started slowly walking home from the park.

“Hey, um, now that you’re cured and everything, I’m really sorry about last night. I accidentally put you in a weird position and I get it if you’re mad at me. I’m okay just calling us friends and ending it there if that’s what you want,” Tom said.

You thought for a few moments about his proposal.

“You know, I was technically being honest last night, but my answer has changed since then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well... These past couple of weeks, things have felt really...”

“Weird? Off?” he interjected.

“Exactly! We’ve been so out of sync and I couldn’t figure out why! But after last night I realized that it’s because we aren’t simply friends. And I don’t know where you stand on this, but... I think I have feelings for you? And if you want to stay just friends I understand, but I just hate when we aren’t honest with each other.”

“Wait. You do?”

“Yeah. I really do.”

You braced yourself for him to shoot you down and put you back in the friend zone, but his reply surprised you.

“I guess now is the perfect time to tell you that I’ve had feelings for you for... well... ever.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked.

“You have!?”

“Well, yeah. Of course. You’re strong, smart, and beautiful. You kick butt like nobody’s business and above all, put up with me every day. You’re like the most incredible person ever. How could I not be into you?”

You felt yourself blushing as you approached your front porch.

“You’re amazing, Tom. You know that?” he jokingly waved you off, but then you were standing quietly.

“Sooo... monthly movie marathon tomorrow at my place? I’ll provide the snackage,” Tom offered, reminding you of your scheduled hangout. You looked down at the ground with a smile, then back up again, nodding.

Usually this was the part where you’d say goodnight and maybe hug, but this time you took it a step further.

You reached up and kissed him on the lips. It was only for a second, but both of you were stunned upon pulling back.

“I know I usually tell you not to bring anything to movie day, but could you please bring some more of those with you?” Tom joked once he snapped out of it.

“Oh my gosh,” you replied in amusement, giving him a light shove. “Goodnight, Tom.”

“Night, y/n.”

And with that, the man you realized you’d loved for years turned around and made his leave.

A/N: yooooo I actually really loved this. I really tried to fit the KP vibes but sorry if anything felt off. There’s just not much as iconic as the og Kim and Ron, ya know?

Anyways thanks for reading and as always please feel free to send an ask or message anytime!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Tag list: @readheadwriter, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe,

#call me beep me #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #jacob batalon #tom holland fanfiction #kim possible au

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sins-of-the-sea · 3 years ago

Note

Modern AU, how did Josep feel about Francoist Spain? Or Giovanni for Italy under Mussolini?

"...Surreal, to say the least. Even when I was born, the changes that had occurred in Catalonia were relatively recent, with Aragon uniting with Castile just twenty-some years before, and my father doing his best to send me to engage in the Navarre conquest under the King despite my insistence on focusing on preparation for exploring the New World. All I knew around my life was war, combat, and conquest. Even when I wasn't home at all, that's all it seemed to ever be about, from the subjugation of much of Central and South America to the Pacific colonies, then the wars that involved either with other imperialistic powers that would result in Spanish irrelevancy down the line. By the time of the Spanish-American War, which resulted in a still-very-young United States during then, I suppose that's when any sort of shock I'd possess would have run out.

"So by the time the Spanish Civil War, all I'd have is just this... detached sorrow over what has become of the lands my family fought for despite my disagreements with them. I may have been miserable in the House of Frances, but Barcelona and Catalonia in general was still my home. If I had been born in a different time, would I have to fight in these other battles that could have spelled my doom? Or contributed to what would eventually become Fascist Spain? I suppose I ought to be grateful Spain did not participate in the Second World War because it was going through enough trouble as is then. To say that the Spain I grew up in is not the same Spain as it is now is more than just a gross understatement. I may as well be in another world altogether."

"You can say that again."

"....As much as we felt sad over Venice when France and Austria took it over, THAT, we saw coming centuries ahead."

"Indeed. The Republic of Venice never recovered from its peak of glory since the Medieval period, as evident in my time, my home was stagnating--and it continued to stagnate until the arrival of Napoleon Bonaparte in May 1797, wherein Venice flat out surrendered without a fight. And it's not like they could fight--any navy Venice had was already centuries out of date. No amount of money left would have Venice free from Bonaparte's conquest. By this time, much of anything left of Venice's pride and culture was stripped away, from our masks to our statues and other iconography. Then we were given to Austria, then back to France, then back to Austria again, as though we were just coin to pass around from purse to purse.

"By the time unification took place, I felt nothing. It was just a natural result of all the revolutions taking place among the Italian City-States. Like how the Catalonia Josep knew no longer existed, the Venice I knew also stopped existing too barring a few bridges and buildings here and there. The city was sinking further into the sea, and more and more locals were moving out as tourists began to outnumber them in staggering ratios. Once the National Fascist Party came to power, the only thing I could think of or feel is this detached numbness--maybe some form of curiosity to see how far Italy will grind itself into the ground. It didn't go that far, thankfully, but the War did no favors."

#WEW LAD THANKS FOR THE ASK I LOVE IT #and thanks for sending it to Josep and Gio I would have NO idea how to really answer for the others except maaaaaaaaybe Ruixiong #the others are far more detached so if the question was sent their way they just be 'eh'#but seriously considering Josep was born among Catalonian knights and Gio among Venetian merchant nobility?#OF COURSE they have feelings #[Captain Josep Frascona]#[Giovanni Vespucci]#history #war tw #imperialism tw #colonization tw #fascism tw

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lokigayforhela · 4 years ago

Text

Rumors

Summary: As Hela’s advisor and childhood friend, you spend most of your time with her. When rumors start to surface, you and Hela decide to stoke them further.

Warnings: fake secret dating?? slow burn (i tried to be as slow as possible tbh)

A/N: This was written as a very belated birthday/early Christmas present. Also this is an AU where Hela doesn’t end up getting banished and everything’s fine (because I need a happy ending tbh). Sorry that it took so long and for any spelling errors or crappy writing!

Word Count: 4065

Being the daughter to Odin’s advisor wasn’t terrible, most of your life was spent in the palace. Growing up alongside the the princess, who had seemed to favor you and you her. The two of you were near inseparable, until your late teens as Hela’s duties started to overtake most of her time. Soon enough Odin took Hela on conquest after conquest with him, leaving your father in charge of running the kingdom in his absence. They returned every so often but only for a few days at a time, before they were off again. Each time you rarely got to talk with Hela except for the briefest hellos in passing, you came to accept that the two of you had drifted apart, to no one’s fault.

After a year of conquering they returned, you still rarely saw Hela but didn’t try to seek her out, not wanting to bother her. It seemed however that fate had other plans as you were assigned as her advisor, since you had helped your father when he had been temporarily ruling.

———

Today was your first day as Hela’s advisor, she nervously paced her room, she was the goddess of death and had slain thousands of enemies yet she was nervous to talk with you. Ever since returning, she noticed you rarely spoke with her, rarely sought her out, and she desperately missed you. Eventually she asked Odin for you to be assigned to her for the time being in an excuse to spend time with you.

The knock at the door was a welcome reprieve from her anxious thoughts, “You may enter.” You stepped in and Hela took you in, still as beautiful as ever, she concluded.

Curtsying, you avoided her gaze nervously staring at anything but her. “Your Highness.”

“Since when did you get so formal?”

You faltered, “It’s been awhile, I just assumed…”

“That I forgot about my closest friend? Never.” You relaxed and she pulled you into a hug. She still felt the same, you thought as you melted into her embrace. “I have missed you.”

“And I, you.”

The day was spent following Hela as she spoke with lieutenants in the army. She seemed to take every moment you two were alone to flirt with you, by the end of the day you were sure you had blushed more in the past twenty four hours than your entire life combined.

The next few weeks passed along normally at least to you they did, as Hela continued to flirt with you. However you didn’t notice the small changes that had passed, the way she was insistent on you sitting next to her at all events, the look she gave you when you smiled, how often she brushed her hand against yours or even the way that her eyes lingered on you longer than necessary. While you may not have noticed, others had and unsurprisingly rumors started.

Hela started to notice how you became yet again reserved around her, speaking only when spoken to and even then you would only give a curt reply. You were pushing her away and she couldn’t stand it.

——

“As the princess, I command you to stop.” Freezing immediately, you turned to face Hela. She took measured steps towards you, stopping only when you took an involuntary step back. Hurt flashed across her face but it was quickly hidden. “Have I done something to offend you?” “No. No…” Pausing hesitant to voice the rumors, she arched her eyebrow expectantly, forcing you to continue. “There’s simply been some gossip that—well that people think you and I are together.” You finished not daring to look at her as blush colored your face. “Oh.” Silence descended upon the two of you quickly, and you wished the ground would swallow you whole. “Does that bother you?” She asked finally. “No I’m honestly flattered that they think you would ever be enamored with me.” You chuckled, casting a furtive glance at Hela whose expression was unreadable. Unaware of the battle currently going on in Hela as everything in her mind told her to admit her feelings and to pull you into a kiss; but her body didn’t comply. She simply stared at you memorizing how your smile made your eyes crinkle at the edges and how your eyes caught the light. “Is everything alright?” You asked taking a few steps forward out of concern. “Fine.” She answered snapping out of her thoughts, to find you much closer than before. “I apologize for the rumors I assure you I’ve tried not to stoke any of it hence my avoidance of you.” “I appreciate it but I rather enjoy your company and the rumors don’t bother me.” Because I do want you. She nearly voiced the last part but you smiled at her and she suddenly couldn’t seem to find any words. She was useless when it came to you.

Hela went through the day thinking of ways that she could see you again and confess her feelings. She found you talking with one of the servants in the garden, as soon as you two caught sight of her she noticed the servant tense and their smile drop. Yours however stayed just as bright and beautiful. “I’d like to speak with Y/N privately.” Hela said and the servant practically bolted away from you both. Confused but not unhappy, you turned towards her. “Was there something that I could help you with, Hela?” “I was thinking about the rumors and instead of just ignoring it…what if we gave them something to actually talk about?” “What do you mean?”

“We could pretend to be together.” Her expression was carefully passive, which you knew meant she was nervous. “Only if you’re willing.” She added quickly. “Of course.” Grinning you ignored the way your stomach flipped at the thought of what pretending to be with Hela would entail. She mirrored your grin. ”I look forward to courting you.” “As do I.” The rest of the evening was spent in Hela’s chambers discussing how you two would go about stoking the rumors. It reminded you of all the nights you spent, giggling and gossiping with her when you were both younger. Formalities and professionalism fell, familiarity and comfort taking its place.

“When should we start?” You asked pacing as Hela sat at the foot of her bed watching amused at how concentrated you seemed to be. As if on cue, footsteps echoed from the hallway. You both shared a look knowing that while Hela’s maid wasn’t the biggest gossip in the palace it would be a start. Quickly you moved to straddle Hela, “Is this okay?” She nodded and with that you pulled her into a kiss. Hela froze momentarily as you continued to kiss her, before she returned with just as much passion. When she finally managed to kiss back, there was a knock at the door.

You pulled back and Hela threaded her fingers into your hair pulling you flush against her causing you to moan. Another knock at the door and you nipped at her bottom lip.

Just as quickly as you had kissed her you pulled away moving off of her. All for show, Hela reminded herself. “You may enter.” She said her voice hoarse and you smirked at her. Adra entered and immediately noticed Hela’s disheveled state and then yours. You had to hold back your laughter as she put two and two together and her eyes bulged. She placed a few blankets on the bed. “I’ll just go now.” She said before nearly running out of the room and slamming the door shut. “I am sorry about the whole springing the kiss on you.” You muttered when you were sure Adra was gone. “Don’t be. It was a brilliant idea.” She said, still thinking about how your lips felt on hers.

“I should get some sleep, since we have a big day tomorrow.” You said moving towards Hela stopping a foot from her. Carefully you cupped her face and wiped away the smeared lipstick with your thumb. Her breath hitched at the contact but you politely ignored it, thinking that she was still reeling from the kiss. “We don’t want them to get too suspicious.” You explained dropping your hand, much to Hela’s disappointment. “Goodnight.” Hela abruptly stood up, “Y/N.” Turning you faced her, a nervous smile playing on your lips. She copied your movement wiping the smeared lipstick off you, you refused to admit that there was almost a wanting look in her eyes as her hand dropped. “Goodnight.”

——-

The next morning you went about the day normally until you saw Hela. It was agreed upon the night before, that while kissing in front of anyone was generally off the table, everything else was fair game. So when you caught her gaze across the room, you looked at her adoringly and shamelessly, letting your eyes wander up and down. She tensed and gave you a questioning look, you smiled in reply before walking away.

Weeks passed, with the small touches, comments, and glances. Both of you were aware that the upcoming feast for the summer solstice would mean that your flirting would have to be discreet enough to keep from her parents and yours, but not so discreet to others.

The summer solstice feast was in full-swing when you entered, it wasn’t long before Hela found you and looped her arm through yours deftly maneuvering between the throngs of people. She took a seat at the table, you sat next to her. Halfway through the feast you felt Hela’s gaze on you, while you had looked at her like a lovesick teenager, she stared at you as if she was about to devour you.

“Your Highness, may I ask for a dance?” Malik, one of Odin’s newer guards–a boy in his late teens–asked. Hela’s gaze never wavered, he cleared his throat and attempted again. “Your Highness?”

Whether it was intentional or she truly hadn’t heard him, you decided to save him the embarrassment. Leaning in you rested your hand on her thigh, biting your cheek to keep from smiling. “Hela, I believe Malik was asking you a question.”

She clenched her jaw and turned to Malik, he shrunk under her gaze and you pitied him. “What was it again?”

He nervously folded his hands, “I-I was hoping to ask you, if you would like to dance?”

“No.”

She turned away without hesitation, he stared in shock before slinking off. “That was rude.” You muttered.

“I didn’t want to dance with him.”

“You could have let him down gently, he’s sweet and barely more than a child. He’s also definitely in love with you.”

“All the more reason to be blunt and not give him the notion that I turned him down out of propriety.” She placed her hand over yours keeping it on her thigh, “Besides, I thought we were keeping up the ruse that we’re hopelessly in love. Dancing with others doesn’t exactly come off as romantic.”

Your cheeks burned and you couldn’t help the smirk that formed, “Would you rather I be jealous and possessive of you? Glaring at anyone who dared look at you too long? I could call you ‘mine’, if you want.”

She tightened her hold on your hand, you met her gaze again and you swore that she was blushing but she got pulled into a conversation with someone else before you could be sure.

You played the part perfectly all with that damn smirk, she could live with this, the proximity, the small touches and glances were enough. They would have to be enough.

————

The two of you sat in Hela’s chambers spread out on her bed. She silently read as you sat next to her tracing invisible patterns on her palm. Hela became infinitely distracted by the small gesture, which didn’t go unnoticed. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been reading that page for five minutes.”

She sighed, closing the book and turning towards you. “I need advice.”

Her sudden serious mood made you tense. “Well that’s kind of what I’m here for.”

“Do you think when I’m queen that people will still fear me?”

You softened, tracing the lines on her palm and taking a moment to choose your next words carefully. “I think that your title intimidates most people. After all most people fear death, but depending on how you rule their perception of you will change.”

“Do you fear death?”

You looked up at her, “No.”

“Do you fear me?” Her voice quiet, she looked vulnerable, so unlike Hela that it gave you pause.

You smiled softly attempting to lighten the mood. “Do I fear my closest friend, the girl I grew up with, the beautiful princess that I’m advising? Hmm, nope.” The relief she felt showed and you pulled her gently onto your lap. “Come here.”

“Are we still going to play this childish game?” Nonetheless Hela obliged laying her head in your lap.

“You love it.” You teased, gently running a finger down the bridge of her nose.

The game started when you were children, both claiming that you weren’t ticklish, the other sought out to prove it. Somehow you thought to trace Hela’s face carefully and sure enough, the ever-slight sensation of your finger running down her cheek had made her giggle. You never let her live it down, eventually she asked you to do it again until it was a common occurrence for you to try to tickle her.

As your finger outlined her jaw, she was reminded of the last time the two of you were in this position. She had just learned that she would be expected to conquer alongside Odin, sensing her distress you insisted on going out. You planned a picnic and brought her along, as she finished her food she rested her head in your lap and you attempted to make her smile by drawing random patterns on her face and neck. The sensation nearly lulling her to sleep, your voice however had brought her back. “Things are going to change aren’t they?”

She opened her eyes and stared up at you, her breath catching in her throat. The sun was behind you catching in your hair, making it appear as if you had a halo of light and you were staring at her so genuinely, so lovingly that she wanted to stay like that forever. “They already have.”

You smiled at her, moving to press a kiss to her forehead. Her heart pounded in her chest and she was overcome with the desire to kiss you, to make you understand her feelings even if she didn’t quite understand them herself. “Well no matter what, I will always care about you, that’s something that won’t change. All that I ask is you come back safe.”

That was the day she realized she was in love with you, that was also the last day before she threw herself into her duties to ignore her feelings.

———

Anxiety tugged at your stomach as you walked onto the balcony. The queen had summoned you and various scenarios ran through your head of what she could want.

“Y/N don’t be so reserved, come over here.” Frigga smiled, you relaxed and obliged. “How do you like being an advisor?”

“I don’t think I would enjoy it as much if not for Hela.”

“I believe the same could be said for her. And your parents seem proud of your position, considering they haven’t stopped talking about it.” You chuckled and the queen smirked.

“I have to thank you and the king for allowing me the opportunity in the first place.”

“We weren’t responsible for it, Hela was…I assumed she told you about it.” The conversation splintered into silence, as you wondered why Hela hadn’t mentioned it.

You looked out at the view, it was breathtaking on an evening like this and as soon as you were no longer worried Frigga said the most anxiety-inducing sentence she could.

“I know about you and Hela.”

You opened your mouth to interject but she held up a hand. “You two are terrible about hiding it, anyone can see the way you look at each other. I’ve never seen Hela quite this happy and I’ve known you since you were a child, I trust you won’t hurt her. Which is why I give you Odin and I’s blessing if you two choose to publicly court. Now is there anything to discuss?”

A moment passed where you stared at her dumbstruck, before you realized she was still waiting for an answer. “I-no I don’t believe there is, your majesty…Thank you.” She nodded and you walked away in a haze.

——-

You returned to Hela’s chambers, she opened the door just as you were about to knock. “There you are, I was just about to go looking for you.” She said, pulling you to sit on the edge of the bed with her.

“I was talking with your mother.”

“…oh what about?”

Attempting to keep from smiling you gnawed on your bottom lip before replying. “Well your parents gave their blessing should we decide to publicly court.”

She sputtered, her face flushing. “They what?”

You recounted what had happened as Hela sat next to you, holding your hands in her own. Her smile grew each second and by the end she couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was going to find you and tell you that your parents came to give their blessing.” She explained between breaths.

This time your face reddened and you laughed. “Dear gods.”

“Well should we ever decide to court we know our parents won’t be against it.” She said once the laughter died down. Hela smiled conspiratorially at you, your heart pounded and before you knew it you kissed her. It was more of a peck, than a kiss but it confirmed your suspicions. As quickly as you moved to kiss her you moved back, “Goodnight, Hela.”

Not giving her time to respond you left, the knowledge that you were in love with your best friend and future queen leaving you a nervous wreck.

———

You spent the feast in a lovelorn state, all of the usual glances and touches felt painful. Hela’s hand stayed on your thigh most of the night, she leaned in every so often to whisper about how unbearable some person was and her lips would brush against your ear as she spoke.

Hela spent the feast giddy, ever since you had kissed her goodnight she was sure you felt the same and decided to tell you that she was in love with you. She was bolder with each touch, going as far as to purposely lean in closer each time.

As the feast ended she pulled you along to one of the more secluded hallways, “I have something to discuss with you.”

“I do too.”

She took your hands in hers, “You first, darling.”

You took in a steadying breath, “I don’t think we should continue this…”

“Going to feasts? If you rather not then we don’t–”

“No, not that. I-I don’t think we should continue this fake relationship.”

She froze for a moment, her eyes never leaving yours. “Can I ask what changed?”

I‘m hopelessly in love with you. It was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say it, knowing that she was looking at you as if you were stepping on her heart. You looked away, pulling your hands away from hers. “I mean this started to stir up rumors and we definitely accomplished that considering even our parents believe were together, but I don’t believe there’s any other reason to continue?”

Hela wracked her brain trying to find any excuse, but none came to mind. “…I guess not.”

You attempted to give her a reassuring smile but it probably looked more like a grimace, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hela.”

—————

It had been two weeks since the split, if you could call it that. Two weeks since that night and the two of you had been walking on eggshells around each other, trying not to think about the other’s glances, the fluttering touches that made skin ignite.

The two of you walked through the gardens, an uncomfortable silence between you. “Are you going to the feast for the Winter Solstice tonight?” Hela asked, her gaze finding yours.

“No.”

She nudged you lightly, “You should come.” “Is it one of my duties?” It was a fair question, you had been told to attend other events in the past. Her face fell, quickly replaced by her own mask of indifference. “No, I would be disappointed if you didn’t attend though.” Blush colored your face. It was settled, you would attend then. ———–

While Hela usually enjoyed the winter solstice, tonight one of the guards had been flirting with you the entire night. Hela glared at anyone dumb enough to flirt with you in front of her but this man didn’t take the hint. Or the second one. Or even the third. When the guard asked you to dance and took your silence as a yes, leading you to the dance floor; Hela was preparing to execute him.

However it wasn’t until she saw the guard’s hands move too far down that she finally snapped. And suddenly you found Hela standing next to you glaring at him.

“Leave.” She commanded and for a moment you thought she was telling you but he left nearly running from her. Before you could ask what all of that was she had already taken your hand and placed her hand on the small of your back. Your body followed along and you found yourself dancing with Hela, it was cliche to feel as if the world faded away as you danced. But when Hela looked at you, it was hard to not feel like you two weren’t the only people in the room.

The song ended far too soon for your liking as she was expected to give a toast leaving you to try to understand what just happened. You walked to the gardens, lights had been hung around it and you sat down on a bench admiring the lights and flowers.

Minutes passed before you felt someone watching you, you turned to find Hela standing there. “Get sick of people already?” You found yourself asking. She chuckled, moving slowly and taking a seat beside you.

“I simply wanted to spend time with you…” She answered and you attempted to hide the blush coloring your cheeks. It was a futile attempt as she smirked noticing how flustered you were. “I was also hoping to talk to you about something.”

You met her eyes and were surprised at how she was looking at you, if you didn’t know any better you would dare say it was anxiously. “Of course.”

“I have something I’d like to confess…I’m in love with you.”

“Hela–”

She rushed to continue, before you could tell her you didn’t feel the same, before you could walk away. “I’ve been in love with you for quite some time, since we were children even and while I know that you don’t feel the same. I can’t keep up this ruse pretending that I don’t care for you. I suspect the rumors started because of my own inability to hide my adoration for you–” You surged forward kissing her feverishly and cutting off the rest of her ranting confession, she pulled you flush against her returning each kiss just as passionately.

Slowly as each kiss became softer, you pulled back to look Hela in the eyes. “I love you too.” She smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges.

Making your way back to the feast, you took your usual seat next to her. She held your hand, every so often squeezing it as if to make sure you were still there. A few minutes passed before Hela turned to you, “Should we stop the rumors?”

You nodded, “We probably should.” Hela smiled leaning forward and kissing you, in front of her people, in front of her parents and yours. It was a declaration that was no longer just rumors.

Pulling back you smiled at her, “I’m not sure if that’ll stop them or stoke them.”

“Who cares.” She said before kissing your cheek.

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

First of all, I am so SO sorry for posting this so late, I kept forgetting it was in my inbox, but I assure you I read it as soon as you sent it, and I love it So Much! Slow burn is so nice and you captured it so nicely in this fic, and it was such a lovely gift. Thank you, so much!

#Hela x reader #Hela Odinsdottir x reader #Hela #Hela Odinsdottir #Marvel #coolbeansscully #submission #thank you for this seriously i love it So Much #fluff #slow burn

101 notes · View notes

elizabeethan · 5 years ago

Text

My Hands, Your Hands

Chapter 1 / 2

Part 2

After being cheated on by her boyfriend, Emma Nolan moves in with her older brother David and his two stupid roommates, Will and Killian. After a night of drinking games and plenty of rum, Emma lands on the one rule that she'd rather avoid: "The Iron Curtain- player to your left."

Modern Captain Swan AU based on the New Girl episode where Nick and Jess go behind the Iron Curtain

Read on AO3

Killian got a new leather jacket in the mail and wouldn’t take it off. Like, he would not take it off. He keeps walking around in it saying stupid things like, “it really makes my hips pop,” and “I know it’s black, but it’s, like, a different kind of black. It brings out my eyes.” Emma is seriously about to lose it. What makes matters worse is the fact that David and Will aren’t trying to stop him from acting as stupid as he is. They’re amping him up because they want to go out tonight, and it’s very un-fun going out with Killian when he’s down in the dumps about Milah. Still.

Milah broke up with Killian months before Emma moved in. She had been cheated on by her long-term boyfriend Neal and needed a new place, and the only place with a room available happened to be her older brother’s loft, which happened to be filled with three grown men who act like children. Killian apparently took his breakup pretty hard, although she doubts he was as openly and embarrassingly emotional as she was. According to David, Milah was the one who got away. Evidently, she loved Kilian, but had to let him go. Her words, not Emma’s. Also evident was the fact that she very quickly moved into another’s man’s apartment after dumping his ass.

So, while Emma had managed to get over Neal, she thinks rather successfully, Killian was still nursing that post-breakup hangover and hadn’t been out with the guys in several months. David usually doesn’t go out drinking, Emma assumes because he is in a long-term, committed relationship, so this is apparently momentous. Will is very excited to get out and get laid as he so eloquently put it. And now, with Killian’s new-found confidence thanks to a leather duster, he plans on getting laid as well.

She has to admit, despite how obnoxious and childish he’s being, the black leather does work very well on him. His fair skin and dark hair compliment it, his muscular shoulders fit inside perfectly, and his ocean blue eyes truly do stand out.

She immediately shakes that thought out of her head.

Emma plans to stay home alone tonight; her current fling Walsh is working, and her best friend Ruby has a date. She could try and call Mary Margaret, David’s aforementioned girlfriend, but the two of them are more… daytime friends. Meaning, they get along great when they're doing adult things like having brunch or decorating the loft, but when it comes to Emma’s more childish side (read: drinking in excess) she sometimes feels as though Mary Margaret disapproves. Almost as if she’s the mom friend, but in a way that makes Emma feel like she could actually be her mother. This could be because she’s dating Emma’s older brother, or it could be because Mary Margaret has basically the purest soul of anyone Emma has ever met. Perhaps a combination of both.

Honestly, Emma would totally go out with the guys tonight. But apparently that wouldn’t work in their favor.

“I’m so down,” Emma exclaimed when Will announced their plans, jumping off the counter and imagining what outfit she would wear. She hasn’t been out in weeks and it wouldn’t kill her to act like a single lady for a night.

“No way.” Killian practically jumped out of his own seat and stood directly in front of her, blocking her way to her bedroom. “You can’t come. I actually want to get laid tonight. You’d just get in the way.”

“Excuse me!”

“You would! Do you know how difficult it would be to get a woman to come home with me with you present? There’s no way you’re coming,” Killian says, rather rudely.

“He’s right, Emma. It’d just make it harder for us guys if a lady was there,” Will added, shrugging and making the most insincerely apologetic face.

“Maybe I can call Mary Margaret and see if she wants to hang out with you tonight?”

So now she’s stuck at home. Emma spent the rest of the evening glaring at Killian before they left. She could also place equal blame on Will and David, but Killian is easier to glare at. Each time she looks over at him and narrowed her eyes, he shoots her a stupid, cocky grin and waggles his eyebrows.

“Don’t wait up for us, Swan. Although, it may be difficult to sleep by the time we get home. We are right across the hall from one another, so if you think me and my lady friend are being too loud, well… just try and block it out.” Everything that Killian says to her is a joke, but that doesn’t make her glare any softer.

“Shut up, Jones. You’d be lucky to get anyone to come home with you. Women will take one look at your stupid jacket and run for the hills,” she scoffs, pinching the fabric at his collar and dismissively flicking it away from her.

“You said you liked my jacket!” His eyes grow twice their normal size and he feigns hurt, placing his right hand over his heart and gasping.

“Just tell me you’re not actually going to wear it out tonight. It’s so long and flowy I feel like I could’ve worn it to prom.”

“I’m sure it would look wonderful on you, love. But I think it will look better on my bedroom floor,” he says, another waggle in his thick brows. Emma glowers and groans.

“You’re so stupid! Who says that?”

“Oh, you love my sense of humor, Swan, don’t try and fight it,” he says in a low voice, leaning in closer to her and looking at her through his long lashes.

“I’ve told you so many times to stop calling me that.” Emma rolls her eyes and turns around towards her bedroom, but his hand catches the crook of her elbow.

“It’s funny. That’s one of the best things I’ve ever seen. Why wouldn’t you want me to continuously memorialize it?”

“It’s not funny! I was attacked!”

Killian chuckles and let’s go of her arm, a soft smile now decorating his face. “You’ll be alright here tonight, aye Swan? I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome.”

Emma rolls her eyes again as she walks into her bedroom and Killian follows. “Yes, you did. And it’s fine, I get it. Wouldn’t want anyone to get in the way of Killian Jones’s great conquest,” she says sarcastically, waving jazz hands in front of his eyes.

It was Killian’s turn to roll his eyes now, blue disappearing behind his lids as he scoffs and smirks. He shakes his head leaves his place in her threshold.

~~~

Emma didn’t always like Killian. Okay, she doesn’t really like him that much now, but when she first moved in, she couldn’t stand him. He was completely cocky, which David explained was a symptom of his difficult breakup. Apparently, it was arduous for him to get over the love of his life without acting like an asshole. Emma’s not sure what Will’s excuse was; the youngest of the three, he seems to get into the most trouble. David’s the oldest of the group, and also the most mature. He takes on a caretaking role rather effortlessly, just as he always has with Emma.

As she sits at home alone, she becomes so desperately bored that she considers organizing her closet. However, knowing that that would never happen, she chooses to put on a scary movie and make some popcorn.

When it ends, she decides to call Walsh while she thinks he’s on his break. Lately, even though they’ve only been seeing each other casually for about a month, she’s been feeling as if he expects much more from her than she’s willing to give. It seems as if he wants a committed relationship, although he hasn’t come out and said it, and she’s been feeling pressure to act more like a girlfriend.

Of course, it’s only natural that the hot water pipes should clang loudly in this moment, causing her to scream and throw what’s left of her popcorn right as she finishes up her voicemail.

“Swan,” she hears from outside the door. “Swan?” Killian swings the door open with fervor; his brows twisted into a concerned arch. David and Will were behind him, along with one of the most beautiful women Emma has ever seen. She offhandedly wonders who she decided to go home with.

“Hi,” she replies, reaching down to pick up some of the popcorn that went flying around her. “How was your night?”

“It was great, Emma. I’d like you to meet Sabine,” Will cuts in and gestures towards the woman with a cheeky grin on his face. “Sabine, this is my totally platonic roommate, Emma.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sabine says with a small wave and an oddly flirty smile. “This is a great place you guys have.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Killian tells me you created a great drinking game, and the vibe at the bar was totally off, so we thought we’d check it out. Mind if we play?” Emma finds it interesting that Will seems to think he brought Sabine home, but Sabine appears to be all over Killian. Killian starts towards Emma now, and miraculously takes off his stupid jacket before sitting on the arm of the chair she’s in, smirking. The asshole.

“Sure, that’s fine. Everyone needs a drink and we need to find the dice and board though,” she turns her attention to Will. If he thinks she’s helping set this up, he’s got another thing coming. “I’ll take a rum and coke.”

Killian’s looking down at her still, so she looks back at him and glares once again. “Can I help you with something?”

“Aye,” he says softly, reaching his right hand towards her face. She thinks she almost feels her lashes fluttering at his soft touch, until she feels a slight pull of a few strands of hair at the top of her head.

“Ow, what the hell?”

“More popcorn, love. How’d that get there?” She rolls her eyes (yes, again), and takes the kernel from his hand, tempted to throw it at him.

“I don’t know. Maybe I was saving it for later, and now you’ve just ruined my midnight snack.” Killian laughs- actually throws his head back and laughs, before raising his right arm over her shoulders and sliding himself into the chair she’s in, effectively squishing the both of them.

“Again, what the hell,” she asks, her tone incredulous and hostile.

�� “Not enough seats, love. Ruby’s on her way.”

“How would you know that? And why wouldn’t I just share a seat with Ruby?”

“We text from time to time, mostly about you,” he says, his brows switching places as he raises one and lowers the other.

“Shup up, you idiot,” she says with an eye roll. Pretty soon, they’re going to get stuck up there. At least, she thinks that’s what Mary Margaret would tell her. Killian chuckles deeply in response and she thinks she feels him squeezing his arm tighter around her shoulder. She knows he put it there to annoy her, but she doesn’t particularly mind, what with her irrational scare a few minutes before. “So, what the hell are you doing home this early?”

“It’s like Sabine said, Swan, the vibe at the bar was totally off,” he says sarcastically, clearly poking fun at Will’s new friend.

“So off that you couldn’t get anyone to come home with you? With that jacket?” Emma feigns shock, putting her hands to her cheeks and raising her brows, painting herself with a concerned expression. “Sabine seems to think you guys make a great match.”

“Wasn’t really interested, I suppose. She’s better suited for Will.”

“Please,” she scoffs, “she’s hot as hell, and earlier you literally said, and I quote, ‘I actually want to get laid tonight.’” Her take on his accent is truly terrible.

His response is minimal, simply a shrug of his right shoulder as he works his way out of the chair that he wedged the two of them into. “You know you aren’t getting that drink from Will. You want a lime?” She nods, looking at him incredulously. They’ve lived together for nine months and he still acts like he doesn’t know what she drinks. It’s not as if they don’t drink together nearly every weekend.

~~~

The game started only once everyone finally got their shit together. It’s true, Emma did create an awesome drinking game. A poster board and Mary Margaret’s artistic abilities quickly allowed for the creation of a game somewhere in between Candy Land and Monopoly. Okay, not really, but the concept is similar. Emma’s game states that the player roles a die and moves their game piece the appropriate number of spaces, then completes the task in the square they land on. Many of the tasks are drinking related. The game was created while they were all drunk.

Emma roles the die and moves five spaces, commanded to drink because she’s from out of state. Killian must drink as well, and so must Sabine. Killian roles next and drinks because he doesn’t have brown eyes. Emma and David drink here too. At some point, Ruby does show up and complains about her date with the doctor named Whale. Emma thinks that anyone named after an animal cannot be trusted. Then she stops herself, remembering the stupid name Killian gave her.

The game goes on for many rounds, and each of them get drunker with each role of the die. Eventually, Sabine lands on Never Have I Ever, and the loser must finish their drink, while everyone also takes a sip for each finger they put down. Emma, Ruby, and David all have one finger left, and it’s Killian’s turn to call a rule. He stares her dead in the face and smirks, one brow raised higher than she even thought was possible.

“Alright, never have I ever…” he pauses, moving his right hand up to pinch his bottom lip and jut his jaw forward, his tongue running along his lip. Fuck, Emma thinks. I must be drunk. “Never have I ever been attacked in a park by the local wildlife.”

Emma freezes and glares in his direction while everyone else laughs. She was holding up her pointer finger, but she drops it and replaces it with her middle. Then, despite the fogginess in her brain, she picks up her glass and takes another swig of her third perfectly made rum and coke.

Once she finishes what’s in her glass, it’s her turn to role, and she lands on the one square that only one other person has ever landed on: The Iron Curtain- player to your left.

In her drunken state, Emma’s not sure how well she hid her horror. She does not want to go behind the Iron Curtain. Only once was this rule played out, and it was the night that sparked silence between Ruby and Will for two weeks afterwards.

Ruby cheers and stands up excitedly, jumping for joy and spilling her wine in the process. David groans and says she doesn’t have to do this. Sabine looks at Will, clearly wondering what the hell is going on.

Emma has to go behind the giant metal sliding door and kiss someone. Specifically, she has to kiss the person to her left.

When she looks to her left, all she sees is a sea of blue covered by thick black brows. “No way,” he says.

“It’s the rules!” Ruby has never looked more excited, and her wolfish grin is very off-putting.

“No! I’m not kissing Killian!”

“Well I’m not kissing you!”

“Oh, come on, we’re all adults here! It’ll literally take a minute,” Ruby tries to reason unsuccessfully.

“A minute? How long do you think we’re going to be kissing? I’m certainly not kissing my best friend’s sister for a full minute.” He looks over at her and shrugs.

“That’s a great point, Killian,” David chimes in.

“Nothing from you, pal,” Will pipes up. “The rules state that she must go behind the Iron Curtain with the person to her left. She should’ve sat next to Ruby and this whole thing could’ve been avoided.” His attempt at lightening the mood is truly upsetting.

“Okay, fuck this. If it’s gonna get everyone off my back, I’ll go behind the stupid Iron Curtain with stupid Killian Jones. Let’s go, idiot.” She grabs his right hand and yanks, noticing that it isn’t all that difficult to get him to come with her. Behind her, everyone is whooping and chanting kiss kiss kiss! as they shut the sliding door behind them.

Once they're behind the door, the chants become muffled and she’s finally able to comprehend what the hell she’s doing. She’s quite drunk, mainly because Killian is always very generous with the rum when he makes her drinks. She’s not so sure about him though.

“We’re not actually doing this, are we Swan?”

“You know, I made the game, and now I’m really mad at myself. Why did you have to sit on my left?”

He scoffs, although she thinks she sees a smile in his eyes. “I always sit on your left, Swan. We literally always sit in the same seats when we play this.”

She rolls her eyes once again. “It’s the rules, we have to just suck it up and do it.”

“I don’t want to suck it up, Jesus. So crass.”

“Why are you so against kissing me? Do you really think it’ll be that bad, Jones?” She’s raising her voice slightly, for which she blames the rum. “We’re both drunk, we can just do it and forget it happened tomorrow.”

“I am not even close to being as drunk as you are right now, Swan. And did you forget that you have a boyfriend? Because I didn’t.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Killian,” she scoffs, backing to the wall and sliding down into a sitting position. He cocks his head and turns his body so that he can copy what she did, sitting on her left side again.

“Trouble in paradise, love?”

“No… I don’t know. Walsh is fine, it’s just…” she trails off, not sure how to finish the statement. Things with Walsh are just that, fine. But lately, she can’t help the feeling that things between them just aren’t right. “Fine doesn’t seem promising to me, Emma. Are you sure that’s enough?” She’s honestly caught off guard by the way he says her name. Not love, not Swan, Emma. As if he means what he says, and cares about her answer.

“No,” she replies so softly she’s unsure if she even heard herself. “I think we want different things.” He hums in response, nodding his head slowly and bumping his shoulder into hers.

“I’m not convinced kissing me would make that any better. Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I really don’t want to kiss you like this.” For some reason, Emma suddenly feels herself grappling with a strange sensation. I really don’t want to kiss you like this. A pit has formed in her stomach and it feels as though someone has reached in and grabbed her heart, squeezing as hard as they could. Rejection.

Why on earth would Emma Nolan be upset that Killian Jones doesn’t want to kiss her? Hell, she doesn’t want to kiss him! So, what is it about these words that threaten to send her over the edge? These words that make her feel so much more sadness than she thought was possible?

“It’s fine,” she breathes, refusing to lift her head in his direction.

“Swan,” he says carefully. “Emma… What’s wrong, love?” She’s never heard his voice sound so smooth and velvety and caring. Part of her wants to lean into him and take comfort in his softness, but the other part of her continues to replay his words over in her head. I really don’t want to kiss you like this.

Rude of him to assume that she’s too drunk and sloppy for a kiss, considering he’s the one who made her this way.

“Stop calling me that,” she finally says dismissively, getting up too quickly and stumbling her way towards the door.

~~~

“Emma?!” She hears the annoying voice before she sees the face it belongs to. Walsh is pounding on the door, and frankly, he’s the last person she wants to see right now.

“Did you kiss?” Ruby asks her with her grin still plastered on her face, and Emma rolls her eyes. She sees David looking at her from the corner of her eye, then sees him get up and go towards the door.

“Emma, are you alright? Oh, hey everyone,” Walsh says when the door finally opens and he sees the party of people in the loft. “Emma, I got your voicemail. Are you okay? You were screaming.”

“Did you call Walsh while you were behind the curtain with Killian? Emma, that’s sneaky! But you can’t get out of this one!” Ruby’s brows waggle in a way that resembles Killian’s, and Emma’s eyes launch themselves into the back of her head with a roll.

“What does that mean, behind the curtain? Are you okay?”

“Walsh, I’m fine. We’re just playing a game. The pipes creaked while I was calling you and it startled me.” Emma’s mood is completely shot, and she isn’t even really sure why. Frankly, she’s pissed at herself for being upset right now.

“Well, where’s Killian? I’d like to know what he was up to during this game.” She can hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice for whatever reason.

“How should I know where he went,” She snaps. “I’m not his keeper, I don’t track his every move.”

“Emma, calm down. Jesus. Do you know what it’s like to receive such a horrible message while I’m at work and then have to come over here and see everyone trashed out of their minds? Would it kill you to just chill out for a second rather than jumping down my throat for asking a simple question?”

“Woah, mate,” she hears from behind Walsh. Killian has made his way out from behind the curtain and is wearing a look of astonishment on his face.

“No one asked you, Jones.”

“Shut up, Walsh,” Emma retorts. The room suddenly feels much quieter than it was just a few seconds ago. Will has turned the music down and everyone has stopped shout-talking.

“Excuse me?”

“I said shut up. Don’t talk to my friend like that. Don’t talk to me like that. I didn’t ask you to come over here. In fact, if you had given me a heads up, I would’ve told you not to come over here.”

“Are you serious? You literally left me a voicemail as if you were in grave danger, and now you’re mad at me for checking on you?”

“You checking on me isn’t the problem here! The problem is that you clearly don’t actually give a shit and you’re just here to keep up appearances!”

“What does that even mean? That’s absurd.” He’s rolling his eyes this time, still standing close to the still-open door. David and Killian are both behind him, eyeing Emma carefully.

“If you really cared about me potentially being in danger, you wouldn’t have come over here with a whole stick up your ass. And you certainly wouldn’t have gotten upset when you saw that I was fine!” Killian purses his lips and nods, and David shoots her a discreet grin.

Walsh scoffs, backing towards the door some more. “You know what, I don’t need this.”

“Good,” Emma retorts. “Neither do I. Go home, Walsh.”

“Where do you think I’m going? Christ, I swear. Go have fun with Killian, I guess.”

“Don’t bother coming back, and don’t call me! I don’t wanna hear from you!” She’s shouting at him, as if he’s too far away to hear her, even though he hasn’t crossed the threshold.

“Why would I come back? It’s always been obvious that you don’t want me here, Emma! I don’t even know why I ever bothered! A slut like you could never settle down!”

She feels like she’s been punched. What grounds could Walsh possibly have to call her a slut? In her entire adult life, she can count the number of guys she’s dated on one hand. Her six-year relationship took up a lot of her time, thank you very much.

Emma may have felt like she was punched, but at least she wasn’t actually punched. At least she didn’t have Killian and David standing behind her, taking in her insult and rearing up to punch her in the face the second she turned towards them. At least she didn’t have David holding her in her place while Killian swung his right fist straight into her jaw.

If she wasn’t so shocked by what just went down, she would’ve found it impressive to see Killian and David working together to beat up the guy who just insulted her character. Killian likely wouldn’t have been able to grab Walsh and hold him in place with his left hand while his right hand swung into his face, but with David there, he was able to deliver a firm hit that must’ve made Walsh dizzy.

“Get the fuck out of our apartment,” Killian hisses, practically spitting in Walsh’s face while he holds his collar with his right hand. Then, Killian shoves Walsh to the ground outside the door and David slams it shut.

“Alright, Swan?” Killian’s blue eyes are on her, along with everyone else’s. She nods and slowly turns around and walks back to the couch.

“Emma…” Ruby starts, but she’s clearly not sure where to go from here. Neither is Emma. What the hell just happened?

“I’m fine. I just- I need another drink,” she says pleadingly, eyes on Killian’s. His brows tighten together in concern, but he nods softly, making his way over towards the kitchen.

Emma sits on the couch and draws her own brows together, trying to comprehend what just happened. Walsh busted in and started accusing her of making stuff up, or, at least, that’s how she interpreted things. She was already heated, so having him come at her like that must have just set her off. Did she really have to scream at him like that?

Then she remembers what he said to her, what he called her. Emma has been dating a bit more lately, trying to get over Neal, but she certainly wouldn’t classify herself as a slut, and she definitely wouldn’t say she’s been sleeping around. Walsh just said that because he wanted a relationship and she didn’t… right?

Then she thinks about what happened after he called her a slut. Everything happened so quickly that she’s not even sure if she remembers it correctly. As soon as Walsh said it, he turned around, as if he wanted to insult her and then promptly leave. However, Killian had just walked out from the other room, and David was the one who opened the door when he first arrived, so the two of them were waiting for him when he turned around. The second they saw his face, it seemed like the pounced. It was almost as if the two of them had rehearsed David holding Walsh in place and Killian hitting him square in the jaw. It wasn’t hard enough to knock him unconscious, but it was definitely a hard hit.

Then, Emma’s thinking about Killian’s knuckles and how they must be starting to ache, so she stands abruptly, stumbles a bit, and makes her way into the kitchen. She’s certain that at least David and Ruby are watching her, but she doesn’t care.

“I was on my way back out, love,” Killian says when she reaches the kitchen area. She nods, her eyebrows still screwed up in concern and confusion. “Would you like your drink here?” She nods again.

“Okay?” She’s looking him in the eye and then glancing down at his hand and pointing at it.

He chuckles softly, “are you asking if I’m okay, or are you saying okay to drinking out here?”

“You,” is all she can say back, eyes still fixed on his reddening knuckles. It’s as if she’s completely unable to focus on anything else.

“I’m fine, Swan. You should see the other guy,” he jokes with a cocky smile, but his eyes soften when her expression remains unchanged. She steps forward towards him, stumbles past his body, and heads towards the freezer, pulling out a box of popsicles. She thrusts the box towards him and nods her head. “Swan, really, I’m okay.”

“You need to ice it,” she says, pushing the box towards him again. She thinks this action through and ends up opening the box and taking one out before forcing him to take it from her. “You only have one good hand left, take care of it.”

His face falls slightly at the comment, and she immediately regrets saying it, but he takes the box from her anyway.

“I’m sorry,” she says, suddenly feeling a wave a guilt that’s likely to drown her, tears pricking her eyes. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and walks towards her, steadying her wavering body with his arms and drawing her into an embrace. “It’s alright love, I’m not mad. Everything’s alright.”

She feels like crying, she thinks she is crying, in fact, but she can’t hardly focus on that anymore. Not when she’s also focused on the way Killian smells like the ocean and the way that the smell mixes with the scent of leather lingering on his tight black Henley. He’s squeezing her in a way that makes her almost forget the weirdly terrible turn the night took.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, although she’s not sure why.

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything. I’m sorry he was such a dick to you.”

She shakes her head against his chest and continues to breathe deeply, warding off tears without even meaning to.

Suddenly, as they stand there with him holding her so tenderly, her thoughts draw back to where they were only minutes ago, and she feels that familiar sensation in the pit of her stomach. She moves from him, his embrace loosening, and drunkenly looks up at him with sadness stuck in her eyes. “You didn’t want to kiss me,” she states.

He hums lightly, sighing and nodding his head. “Perhaps we can talk about that tomorrow.”

“No,” she says, “I want to talk now. I won’t want to talk tomorrow.” What she means is, she won’t have the balls to talk about it tomorrow, without excessive liquid courage.

“I didn’t want to kiss you,” he confirms. “I didn’t want to make you kiss me because I thought you would feel bad about it afterwards. What with Walsh and everything,” he trails off. He clearly thought that they were in a better place than they were.

“Walsh is gone,” she says without thinking. “He was gonna be gone soon anyway.”

“Aye, love, I know that now. But I also,” he cuts himself off, sighing and pulling on his bottom lip with his right hand in a way that threatens to drive her insane. His left arm is still slung over her shoulders, but they’ve separated a bit. “I didn’t want to kiss you because of some game you were playing while you were drunk.”

“Oh,” she says, considering this. Perhaps her suspicions about her being too drunk to be kissable were accurate.

“What I mean is, if I were to kiss you, I’d want it to be more special than it would have been behind the Iron Curtain.”

“Oh.”

“Emma?” Ruby rounds the corner before Emma can comprehend what Killian said. “Are you okay, honey? Why are you holding a popsicle?”

She looks down at the melty mess within the white packaging. Killian chuckles and tosses it in the trash, then moves to put the box back in the freezer. While he’s in there, searching for room even though it was just pulled out, she leaves the kitchen and heads straight for the bathroom.

She feels slightly better now that she’s walking and not being suffocated by Killian’s muscular chest and intoxicating scent. At the same time, however, she also feels cold and alone.

She notes that it’s now completely quiet in the living room, as if the party died the second Walsh walked in. She feels guilty about being the root of the problem tonight, but honestly can’t really spend much time thinking about it.

Once she makes it to the bathroom, she gets her cleanser and removes her makeup, then puts on her moisturizer. Throughout her adult life, if there was one thing she was good at, it was drunkenly taking off her makeup and completing her skincare routine.

Once she gets to bed, she finds her thoughts migrating back to Killian. She thinks about the way his face tightened and his arm muscles rippled when he swung and hit Walsh. She thinks about the way his kind eyes stared at her and only her afterwards, as if he needed to make sure she was okay. She thinks about the way he smelled and how his soft warm chest felt against her face while he held her.

Then, she thinks about what he said. If I were to kiss you, I’d want it to be more special than it would have been behind the Iron Curtain. What the hell does that mean?

She would genuinely be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t thought about how it would feel to kiss him. His lips are luscious, anyone would have to admit it. And he’s always doing that thing where he pinches them between his fingers or runs his tongue along the bottom one. If it was anyone else, someone she didn’t live with and someone who wasn’t her brother’s best friend, she probably would have jumped on the opportunity to sleep with him months ago.

But thinking that he’s physically attractive and actually having feelings for him are completely different things. And lately, despite her constant annoyance, she also has feelings of longing and happiness whenever she sees him. Him saying that he would want their shared moment to be special is only adding fuel to the fire of him being crush-worthy. Her feeling rejected by him saying he didn’t want to kiss her also made her feel foolish for ever thinking that she didn’t have a crush on him.

The lights are off and she’s under her blankets, but she hears her door creak open and sees light flooding in the crack. She’s sure Ruby went home by now, so she’s not sure who would be breaking into her room. Rather than dealing with it, she pretends to be asleep until the culprit leaves. Once they do and she hears the door close tight, she rolls over and looks to her bedside table to see that whoever it was left some Advil and cold water for her, and grins, knowing it must have been Killian who dropped it off.

She’s fucked.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs ff au #fanfic #captain swan fanfic #killian jones #emma swan #modern au #once upon a time #ouat #new girl #mhyh #my writing #my hands your hands #my hands your hands ff

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