#my hip gave out early this week and nearly gave out again during practice. instead of ignoring me when i signalled i was stepping out

[lupismaris]

My hot Alan Rickman-esque beefcake teammate/kind of personal trainer (??) is now our sevens coach for the summer and I am being so normal about it I swear

[cjsinkythoughts]

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day. 

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.” 

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

****************

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. 

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

*****************

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

~

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

~

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

[kim-monsterlings]

Kaan - M Naga x F Human (Reader) // NSFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: NSFW/Lemon; back again with mentions of fae deals, fluff, intimacy (nuzzling for warmth, cuddling), brief kissing, receiving oral (+ forked tongue), orgasm denial, ingested venom/aphrodisiac (consensual), penetrative sex + handjob (he’s a naga... so, double)

Wordcount: 3408

“Tropemas” Summary: while caring for the naga in hibernation, snowfall worsens overnight, leaving you stranded in his cave

Notes: TROPEMAS!! #1, the beautiful cliché of being trapped in together during a snowstorm!

Masterlist // “Tropemas” Masterlist

Snowfall came too early this year; weeks too early, before the scarves and blankets were finished and berries picked. No honey was ready yet to trade with the fae for their blessed fruits so on a foolish promise - really, you ought to have known better than to trust fae, no matter how long you'd traded with them - you swore to return with a trade worthy of their trust as you rushed into the already snow-laden woods.

The two hours wasted trekking up steep slopes and struggling against growing branches snagging on your thinning, woollen layers wasn't a favourable way to spend your time, definitely not in wintertime. Though the journey was horrendous, weighed down by a heavy bag of half-finished gifts and a hamper of logs and food, the cave peeking out of the cliffs warmed you against imminent frostbite.

Hibernation hadn't come yet, if the large boulder propped against the cave entrance was any indication. Dim flames warmed the inner cave as you struggled to roll the rock back, where it would be sealed once his season of hibernation really began.

It was so dark the sprawled coils nearly tripped you. Whiter than the dirtied snow falling slowly beyond the cliff, the white naga laid well outside of his nest of old furs and blankets; most gifted from you. His scales reflected the odd amber of fire, tinting long, wispy hair against his pillow.

Only one thing would wake him. Kaan had learned to ignore your voice - with practice, he liked to tease - and the debt to the fae and their blessed garden was worth it when you held out the plump berry in your fingertips. Already the juices dribbled, so sweet in the middle of winter, and the temptation to eat it yourself itched at the back of your mind.

The naga's dusk nose twitched before a forked tongue flicked out to scent the air. His warm lips kissed the juices away, the berry savoured. Kaan groaned, both thick from sleep and delight. “I love fae food," he whispered, and at your laugh, peeked his eyes open. "Only one?"

"More when you say hi."

"Hi," he yawned. Long arms stretched overhead and the naga curled nearer, his head almost on your lap. "Feed me, morsel."

"Morsel," you scoffed. Kaan whined when you stood and ate a fae-blessed berry, the sugars and juices tingling through you. "How are you doing?"

"Apart from missing you?" The glare you gave earned a bright laugh. His teasing never ceased and it did nothing to help the flutter in your chest. He only missed your gifts. "I'm cold. Will you light the fire again? What did you bring me?"

Though you grumbled, his keen eyes already found the logs piled in wait of being lit. Kaan moved out from the bundled nest to the hamper. His arm reached, and a sharp hiss made you both freeze when you smacked him back.

The plea and apology jumbled together as you choked on a laugh. Crouched before the dim fire pit, sparks caught light as a heavy head nestled against your thighs. Kaan groaned and wound his arms to your hips, nuzzling against you.

"Sssso warm," he whispered, and scrunched his face when the lisp elongated. "I missed you."

Soft cracks of the fire warmed the cave. His hair felt silken when you ran your fingers back through it. "I missed you, too."

He hummed, "good. Tell me what you brought me."

The gradual slowing of his breathing came when you spoke. You used to take offence to it, when Kaan began to hug you close and his heart slowed, but now as he draped his heavy tail closer around your bodies, you understood it to be a sign of his trust.

Nobody else would be here- could be here while he neared hibernation. Kaan reluctantly stirred when you pressed a berry to his lips with a whispered groan of your name when you teased and ate one instead. His lips pressed to your fingertips before your cheek, and he fell into the furs you threw back over him.

Beneath the cave, down a tricky slope in near darkness, you washed grime off your body in a freezing, rushing stream. So narrow and fast that you never dared inch too close, only retrieving fresh water and helping stock it for Kaan when he woke.

It was your practice for too long now. Always helping, always returning to his side to wake him, to welcome the lips on your temple as he relied on your body heat in colder nights. You wouldn't change a thing... not many things. The worst part of coming was knowing the same evening you would leave for the season, and return in no time passed for Kaan, but days of a life passed, wasted, pining for the naga asleep in a cave.

He woke with a small yawn and a nudge of his tail to your hip. Without looking up from the fire you stoked, you ran your fingertips to the white and silver scales. "You know, I think you take me for granted."

Kaan frowned. The anticipated retort hadn't come, and the naga instead slid closer. His cool arms curled back to your waist like he’d never parted and settled you on his wide lap. "Would you want me to visit your village as often as you visit me? I could. I would, to see you," he hummed, and his smile grew against your shoulder when you scowled. "I may even end up on a spike. Or be made an accessory… I am pretty enough. You could always keep me close-"

"At least you'd be quiet."

"How rude," he muttered. His chin rested heavy on your shoulder. In the passing seconds, his cheek nuzzled closer, lips soft brushing the shell of your ear. If he scented the air, you dreaded what would be found. "Nearly done with the fire?" He - from practice, knew to dodge your elbow, grinning and squeezing you close. "I need to rest. Will you be gone?"

"I'll be back in a month," you said, but his arms tightened at your words. It hurt. To come all this way only to leave again, empty handed and heavy-hearted. "It'll pass quickly for you. Go, rest."

His tongue flicked at your cheek before he wriggled and curled in his nest. Neither of you mentioned the tip of his tail gently curled to your ankle. "Don't eat all my berries."

Left huddling before the growing flames, it was only the ache weighing on your shoulders keeping you from leaving. That, and the softening of scales as reluctant as you to part. Perhaps a little that beyond the cave, the wind lashed and even standing - gently stepped from the coils slowly winding to your knees - and pausing at the entrance, the harsh chill struck you.

It was dark. The only light came from the fire grown at your back illuminating the cave, bathing Kaan is a soft glow.

One peek from the boulder at the entrance and your stomach fell. Too dark for you, too dangerous with ice coating the path and frost in the air, and any torch carried would extinguish on first step outside.

He woke from a light sleep with a groan like he had before, but once he'd stolen the fae fruit, his eyes fluttered shut again. Only after snatching a blanket - one you had spent hours on, were his eyes lifting to yours.

"Kaan, I'm staying the night."

With a soft stare, fatigued and barely resisting the tug of hibernation, the bundled naga crooked a smile. "Missed me that much already?"

"It's too dark for me to get home." The soft glow of his eyes and his frown reminded you that unlike humans, the naga was adapted to dim caves and night-darkened forests. Unable to look him in the eye, you pretended to search for somewhere to lay. "Not all nagas are as soft-hearted towards humans."

"Not humans." His arms reached out to you from the nest. "Just you. The cost of your stay is to cuddle me. Keep me warm."

The thick boots laced at your ankles landed with a thud even as you frowned. "But you're cold."

"So warm me up."

The chill of his arms made you gasp, but Kaan chuckled and tucked you even tighter. His nest was set in a dip of stone, cushioned by furs and blankets and old clothes, some yours that had somehow been “lost,” and laying on something warmed by the time Kaan had been curled here settled the nerves in your stomach.

The race of your heart lurched as the naga dragged his jaw against your crown, embracing you to his warming body. Bare chested as he was, your fingertips curled above his calming heartbeat and already, he was breathing slower.

Sleep evaded you with the steady tucking of cool scales against your legs. Kaan gripped you to him tighter, coming to clutch you to his chest, and sometime sleep came, when your ear was to his heart and his fingers tangled in your hair, pressing you there.

Without any light to wake you, it was the chill of a fire dying rousing you, and you woke much as you had fallen asleep; warmed in the softest hug, lips hovering to your forehead. There wasn't anywhere you would rather be; it would've been perfect, if the fire hadn't died.

Kaan's soft breaths nuzzled against your crown. He had woken only moments ago with you, but he was quick to draw you back when you readied to move, burying you beneath furs and his coils. He seemed as reluctant as you to leave, so you tucked into his chest, content to listen to the slow beat of his heart. It nearly soothed you back to sleep; the soft pace of like a lullaby.

Words thickened by lethargy, Kaan mumbled against your temple, "why is it only you come in winter?"

"Don't you want me to?"

"That wasn't the question."

Palm flat on his taut stomach, you watched the muscle tense beneath your touch, reluctant to even whisper, "I care about you."

"That would be why you spent the night wriggling closer then," Kaan teased, pressing his nose into your hair with a chuckle, even as you gasped and strained against him.

"I was wriggling because your coils tighten in your sleep! Don't blame me, you heat-hog! That tail-"

"Oh, this one?"

Scales rubbing together rasped like the soft burn of a fire now lost. Kaan weaved them against you until you were pressed flush, able to watch him bite back a grin when you grumbled, "you just want me close for heat."

"Mm. Speaking of heat," he breathed, and if he heard your heart spasm, he didn't show it. Kaan's palm stroked against the curve of your throat, thumb stroking where your collarbones dipped. "You ought to be careful about caring for me. It almost feels like courtship, and we wouldn't want me to fall into a mating rut, would we?"

The gentleness brushed where your neckline fell loose on your chest. His eyelids fell to where he traced the heat rushing to his touch, and the silence only dragged on. His chest rose on a deep breath, one caught in his throat as he whispered, "right?"

"Kaan…"

Hand framing your jaw, the naga swallowed hard, voice rasping. "Would we?"

"I," you shuddered at his forehead coming to yours, his lips only a mere breath away. "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to… to-"

"To mate you."

"To mate me," you echoed. "I wouldn't mind being your mate."

For a fleeting breath, Kaan laid against you, into you. Thick tail nudged to your hips and his lips were so warm where he was elsewhere cold. The affection you ached for flooded you down to your curling toes, but it was fleeting. Kaan unwound himself. He recoiled to the deepest corner of his nest, head tucked low, away from you.

"Go," he croaked. Kaan's claws bit into the cave beneath him; he had never been so small in your presence. "Go, please."

There was no arguing with the tremor in his plea, nor with the agony creeping into his face, the same you fought to hide deep in your chest. Only the words whispered in the back of your mind forced you from his nest, cold now without him beside you. He didn't want you, the voice hissed. He doesn't want you. The promise of a mate tempted him.

He wouldn't be fighting it so hard if that were true. Fighting for you.

Boots heavy on your dragging feet brought you to the mouth of the cave, but no further. The forests beyond remained hidden. Even the grip on the snow boots didn’t ground you when the unyielding stone forced you back from the force of your struggle.

"Kaan…"

"I can't," he mumbled. "If you stay, if-if-"

"The cave entrance is snowed over. The stones are frozen together and we're," you winced. "We're snowed in together, Kaan."

Hardly audible above the storm binding you to the cave, Kaan whispered, "no. No, you're just-you must be weak."

"I'm not weak, Kaan." Weaker than him, yes, but not weak. "If I was weak, I wouldn't make it to you through those woods."

"No… No, I didn't-" his gulp was audible. "May I try?"

Nothing stopped him from trying, but you. Kaan tucked himself round the cave wall and only met your eyes when you stepped back. Sharp guilt rose to tighten and bind your throat.

The rock didn't budge. Not with his body coiling tight and shoving harder, succeeding only to bruise himself.

You were locked together. Trapped.

Kaan's soft voice carried like the wind. Curled into the coldest crack of the entrance, it brushed so gently, quietly, you almost missed it. "Tell me you meant it." Though turned away still, the tip of his tail didn't miss when he reached, winding against your leg. "Tell me again."

"Kaan-"

"Don't come closssser if you didn't," he whispered.

The single step broke him. His tail swept you back but he caught you, the furs your cushions when he laid you down. Kaan framed your cheeks and nudged his nose to yours.

"Tell me before this goes any further," he said, his long eyelashes fluttering by yours. Even as he spoke, the claws of his fingertips traced beneath your thick layers, creeping up your stomach to brush your chest. "Tell me."

"Kaan, I want you to be my mate. I want to be yours."

The gentlest kisses faltered where your chest rose with shallow breaths. Together, the layers fell away, goosebumps and shivers blossoming beneath the cold air, beneath the softening, heated stare running low, lower to your hips struggling to lift beneath the weight of his.

On a warm laugh, Kaan rose up and helped you kick the rest free. Both laying bare, warm and close, your hands travelled the muscle of his chest - only for you to gasp.

The naga grinned, cheeks nestled to your thighs. One hiss made you whimper, forked tongue flicking up, a mere brush. "Kaan-"

"Yes?"

"Don't tease," you whispered, but the warming of his eyes promised nothing less than torture. His tongue slid from his lips reminiscent of how he tasted the fae food, and he tasted you with the same reverence, the same guttural groan as the tip flicked up your folds to brush your flushing bud. "Kaan," you gasped, and the naga only laughed deeper.

"Did you think I wouldn't savour you?"

"Savour-“ you choked. Morsel. “Kaan, I am not a meal-"

"You are," he murmured, and with his hands gripping your thighs, he dragged you from the nest and against his lips.

The cave rang with your hoarse cries and hollow breaths. So sensitive already, the tips of his tongue falling low sent a wave of fire through you. Kaan groaned with your heels digging hard into his back to beckon him close, but he never wasted a second, never wasted a breath that could be better spent pleasuring you.

He pleasured you too well. With a soft whisper unheard over the blood rushing in your ears, Kaan pressed a warm hand to your navel and held you down, the thick muscle slipping into your hips and- oh, you cried, the tip dragging slowly to the nerves tender and tightening.

The cave was dark enough, but only blurred spots danced in your vision. Your legs trembled. Kaan curled his tongue and dragged up, and you arched, bucked, overcome with a rush of-

Nothing.

"That… that was cruel," you struggled to say, shaking still as the crescendo began to ebb away and the offender grinned. His open mouthed kisses rose from your navel and up, pausing to press sharp teeth to your nipple until you sunk heavy again. "I won't... I won't beg."

"I think not. It will be me begging for you," he said to your lips. Thick on his tongue, Kaan kissed you deeper, cradling your crown as a weight nestled between your hips. His lips rose when you whined and spread your thighs wider, welcoming the thick, twin lengths heavy on your stomach. "And beg I will," he breathed, and two crooked fingers inched into you. "I want to make love to you, now. Please. Please," he whispered, fingertips where his tongue had been and teasing whines freely from you.

"I need you. I-"

Kaan's lips parted on bringing his slick fingers to his lips, and in parting them, you saw the swollen fangs, slick like his fingers as he sucked you from them. The gentlest warmth of his head running from your clit down stole your focus with ease, your eyes rolling and hips following, leaning up to align with his cock pressing down.

"Ready?" Kaan pressed his thumb to your lower lip, flushed and swollen, parted as you struggled for breath. Your muscles tightened at the steady rub of him to your centre, and you nodded. "Lips open, my mate."

"For… for the venom?"

"If you'd rather not," he rushed, and though you loved his need to reassure you, the pull of his body away twisted your stomach so you dug your heels into him and tensed. His cock entered you so slowly you nearly came, and when he stroked down your cheek to bring your eyes to his, the warmth there coaxed you back to that precipice. "Do you want it?"

The answer was yes to all he had, and you begged as much. Kaan chuckled and the rumbling met your lips. With the first tang of venom on your tongue, the naga rocked himself forward and his cock filled you, thick and curved and hot like his tongue meeting yours, blackened by the aphrodisiac tightening your chest.

It eased the slight burn in a breath and you nodded once, dragging your mate closer and reaching low to stroke the cock heavy on your stomach. Kaan shuddered and his body stiffened, a whimper passing you both.

Then he moved.

He moved and your body was aflame. The pleasure endless in your nerves arched your chest, Kaan nuzzling down to take your flushed nipples into his lips in turn and nip, suck, kiss, thrusting in time with your stuttered gasps.

Beyond the cave, wind howled; nothing like Kaan's deepened groans, his claws dipping into your thighs where he pushed you back and sunk deeper at this angle. Venom coated his lips. It coated yours, tingling in your throat, thoughts and stomach, until your breath caught.

He felt it, too. Kaan's forehead rested to yours as he rocked slower, deeper, and into your fist. With a bitten back smile, you squeezed your fingers and ran low to tease the slick dip in his scales, the slit, and the naga bellowed a harsh cry. He came deep, hot and strong and along your stomach, Kaan stealing your matching pleasure with a fevered kiss.

Neither of you felt sated. The venom still pulsed strong and hibernation was long forgotten, a mating rut stirred and his cocks stiff against you. Kaan cradled you on his lap as you sought to be closer, aching to take him again until you couldn't any longer.

Until the snow melted, you would wait in your naga's arms, feasting on sweet fae berries and his kisses.

[pedropascalssimp]

More then you'll ever know

Din djarin x fem reader

Summary: the reader and din have a hard to get along with relationship, mostly because her teasing and joke cracking nature. But one night din realizes he can't keep pushing his true feelings for reader aside.

Warnings: mild language. Fluff.

Since I said I'd write more for din. I gift you... DIN!!!!

*Not my gifs!*

If you had a coin for every time din wrecked his ship, you'd be a rich woman. He was a good pilot, he could maneuver his way through a canyon and manage to survive, but he was a little reckless. And whenever someone could easily go over that canyon, his mind never seen that ruote and instead takes the hardest path possible. Which is what left you, him, and little Grogu standing outside the razor crest while you chuckle at his pacing, hands on his hips while his visor was focused on the ground.

The planet he crash landed on was a icey cold snow planet, it was freezing out, and the fact the sun was long gone and replaced by the moon didn't help.

"oh c'mon din, I can fix this ship tomorrow morning... A slight delay to tython won't hurt our adventure" you try and reassure him, amusement thick in your voice. This little crash gave you the opportunity to further more tease him and his piloting skills, something he hated. But it was fun seeing him get all defensive over his flying, you'd even say cute.

"we can't stay out here, the ships inoperative. We'll freeze to death out here" he stresses, finally coming to a stop as he looks at you, then his gaze falling on the innocent little child that plays in the snow.

"before you crashed us all the way out here I thought I saw a town that way" you point in the direction where you had thought you seen a town while you spiraled out of control. Thankfully though the ship wasn't damaged to bad and no one was hurt. "we can rent a place to sleep tonight and I'll wake up early in the morning and fix the ship" you shrug while scooping Grogu up and taking his icey little hands in yours and warming them.

Din sighs, something he seemed to do a lot you've noticed ever since you started working for him. Not only did you serve as a mechanic and caretaker for Grogu, but also a skilled medic. It was no secret din loathed droids, sometimes he found himself struggling to patch his own self up when injured greatly, so he hired you to assist him in medical ways instead of seeking help from a med Droid. You helped him greatly in medical and mechanical ways, soon he found the child and you helped in nanny ways.

Din turns around, back facing you now as he looks towards where you said a town was. The sky just barely illuminated by the dim glow of lights from the civilization. Facing you once more now he walks closer through the snow, gloved thump stroking Grogu's cold cheek.

"it will be a long walk... Probably even a days time..." he trailed of in thought, taking his cape off in the process and handing it to you so you can wrap Grogu up. "we'd have to use my jetpack to make it there tonight" he sighed out, watching how you wrap the cape around the little one. Covering up his mouth and ears along with his little body. He was swaddled up snugly.

You grin at din, "you're just looking for an excuse to hold me aren't you Mando?" you tease him, loving how he always stuttered and got nervous. He always retaliated with a harsh comment or the silent treatment, brushing your harmless flirting off.

Oh how you fell hard for the man though, he was something special. He acted like the toughest bounty hunter in the galaxy, he was really, but once you got to know the man under the armor? He was a big sweetheart, a softie who was passionate about little things and protective over the ones he considered friends, the one's he loved. You grew feelings for him one particular night spent on Nevarro, he was meeting with karga, in a cantina. You had joined him of course because you needed a drink, once you was both in there this one man wouldn't leave you alone, flirting, eyeing you like he was a starved man and you was a feast, his hands shortly falling on the small of your back and trailing down lower much to your dismay.

Now you was a good fighter, but before you had the chance to break the man's wrist? Din had done it for you, grabbing the man's hand and twisting it, showing his vibroblade against the man's throat, "touch her again and I'll kill you" was what made the man flee without a word. Wrist broke. He offered you a nod and made you stay by his side. It had made you fall for him hard, the feelings only growing as time went on.

"I could always leave you out here to freeze" din shot back at your earlier comment, he said it more teasingly, a welcome surprise to you.

"like you could do that, I know under all that beskar you have a soft spot for me din" you smile at him innocently, Grogu smiling as if he agrees with you.

"for him maybe" din was blushing hard under the helmet, heart beating rapidly as if he was afraid. Truly he was, he feared that if he let himself love you like he so desperately wanted, you'd leave him, that the galaxy would rip you away from him like every one else he ever loved.

Perhaps that's why he put up the facade he wore good when you flirted with him, acting as if he couldn't stand you, as if he loathed your presence. If only you could see the way his brown eyes sparkle with wonder and longing when he watches you work or play with Grogu.

You scoff with a smile, acting as if his little retort didn't sting a little. "let's get going before we freeze to death then" you say, hating how your heart skips a beat at how close he stood now, shuffling in the snow to jerk you flush against his warm side. The beskar was ice cold though, making you gasp with a shiver.

"hold on to Grogu tightly" he warns, worried you'd drop him. You wrap him up in your right arm, holding him against your chest tightly, little green hands fisting your short tightly as he snuggled up against your chest.

Din wraps a arm around your waist, his other placing a gloved hand over your arm that held Grogu. "are you ready?" he asks, pulling you against him tightly. You felt a little nervous, not to fond of heights. Din noticed and chuckles. "don't worry mesh'la, I won't drop you... Maybe" he teased. Saying the nickname he gave you, you had yet to learn.

Snapping your head towards him with wide eye's you give him a fearful look, "maybe!?" you didn't get a response because he had already taken off, forcing a shriek from you and your arm to hold him tighter. Heart rapidly beating as you closed your eyes shut. You try and ignore how his touch sends a tingling warmth through your whole body, how you wished he'd hold you more....

Grogu squeaks out what sounds to be a laugh, his smile and wide eye's enjoying being high up like this, but once you open your eye's and look down, you knew you'd made a mistake. "oh no, no, no, no" you muttered, burying your face in din's neck.

"don't worry, we're almost at the town, I can see it" din reassures you, although he wanted to tease and poke fun at your silly fear like you do him most time's. He would never do such a thing to you, he hated how your small whimper tumbled from your lips. Soon though, you arrived at the town and he landed, only stumbled a little.

Practically clinging to him you refuse to let go, "are we on the ground?" you murmur, Grogu making a little sad noise upon the adventure in the sky ending.

"yes, you can let go now" he pulls you off of him and backs away. You open your eyes and sigh, happy to be on the ground again. Holding Grogu with both hands now, you walk with din to town.

The place wasn't that big, but it also wasn't small. There was markets, houses and one small place that looked like a cantina. The people all wore heavy duty clothes, prepared for the cold. But you wore a flimsy old t-shirt and cargo pants. You shiver while walking behind din, people giving you looks.

Din finally comes across a large building, entering the building you sigh at the slight warmth it provides. The room was near empty besides a fireplace and two chairs, a large door by the left wall. Behind a counter a older woman worked, Grey hair and aged face. She gives you and din a kind smile.

"hello! Are you looking to rent a room?" she asks. Din leans on the counter and nods.

"two rooms" he spoke with his stoic tone, the modulater making his voice sound deeper, more intimidating.

"I'm afraid there is only one room... We've gotten a lot of traveler's this week" the older woman said, watching how din sighs and his shoulders slump.

Were you really that annoying to be around? You shake the thought away and sigh, looking down at Grogu who let's his gaze flicker across the room curiously.

"I guess we'll take that one then" he huffed while sliding some credits across the table, soon taking the card to enter the room he just bought for the night.

He walks over to the door you spotted earlier and opens it with a swip of the card, leading you to a hallway full of various other doors. Following him he stops in front of a certain one, swiping the card as the whoosh was heard and the door slides open.

He sighs and flips the lights on, stopping instantly. His abrupt stop makes you walk into his back. "owe! You nearly made me fall" you snap and walk beside him, "why did you stop all the su -

"there's only one bed?" he spoke as if someone had just slapped him across the face, you look up and noticed that there was indeed, one bed.

"I can always sleep in the floor" you shrug and set Grogu down, letting him explore the room. He instantly crawls in bed though. "not anything new" you flash him a sarcastic smile. Referring to how din made you sleep in the floor of the crest during your early days of knowing him. Finally though he noticed how stiff and in pain you was and bought you a small cot to keep in the cargo area of the crest.

"I can take the floor, you sleep in the bed" he starts taking his cape from Grogu, tucking him into the large bed fit for almost three people as he folds the fabric up and sits in the floor.

Scoffing you stand before him with a hand on your hip, "like hell I'm letting you sleep in the floor, we can both obviously fit in the bed" you point out, not having a problem with sharing the bed with him. Not one problem at all in fact.

"like hell I'm sleeping beside you" he retorts coldly, his words striking you hard as your face fell. Turning away from him so he doesn't see his words sting, you shrug.

"I for one don't have a problem with sharing a bed, but if you want you're back hurting you tomorrow that's fine by me" you crawl into the bed after kicking your boots off, Grogu fast asleep already. Once under the covers you turn your back toward din.

Why he hated you so much was beyond you, but alas, he hates you.

You try and not let it bother you, but after a few minutes of silence you turn on your side to face him again. He wore his beskar still, it had to be uncomfortable. "do you always sleep in the armor?" you mutter while hoping he wasn't asleep.

"only whenever people are around" he grumbled while his visor falls on you. You knew he refused to show his face, something you always respected, but you hated for him to sleep uncomfortably because you....

"you can take it off din and sleep in the bed... I know how you're back hurts you, you old man" you joke lightly, knowing he was older then you. And although he hated how you always cracked jokes either with him or about him, he knew it was harmless teasing. So.... He sighs and stands up.

"I'm leaving the helmet on" he grunts while slowly taking his beskar off, gently setting it down neatly. You watch with a adoring look, mind to tired to realize you was doing so, but din saw it. The sight of your dazzling eyes practically glued to him making his face flush in a beautiful shade of red. But thank the maker beyond that he wore a helmet to hide it.

"okay but if you ever decide it's uncomfortable to sleep in you can trust me enough to take it off....I'd never look at you without it on y'know" you say while he now stood in his underclothes. A long sleeved black sweater and heavy duty pants. Taking his gloves off your eyes are met with the familiar tanned skin you loved, having seen his abdomen and arms bare before do to attending his wounds countless times. It seemed he wasn't only reckless when flying the razor crest, but aslo fighting a bounty apparently.

Din slowly walks shuffles over to the bed, almost shyly. Waiting for you to scoot to the other side. You do so after scooping Grogu up, being sure not to wake him as you placed him in the middle of the bed, him snuggling up to you in his sleep. Din crawls in bed shortly and makes himself comfortable under the covers, laid out on his back. His head though turns toward you.

"I know I can trust you, you haven't given me reason not to.... I just - I don't want to risk taking it off" he stuttered, you could easily detect he was indeed nervous. But why? You was determined to find out.

"I understand, I'm not pressuring you into taking it off" you giggle, subconsciously stroking Grogu's little hand.

"I know...." he whispers, his visor still on you as you looked at him with soft eye's. "I'm sorry if I've ever been... Harsh with you" he forced the words out, eye's locked on your own, the y/e/c eye's he'd always find himself lost in....

You was speechless, didn't know how to respond to his abrupt apology. It was unexpected, here you thought he hated you, found you to be nothing to him but a medic, mechanic, and caretaker for Grogu. Whereas you saw din as a friend, someone to rely on, someone to talk to whenever need be. Sure you teased him a lot and made some jokes up about little things he does, like being a big softie or cute when he plays with Grogu. You never meant no harm, but din always made it out that way, pushing you away or making harsh remarks whenever you had done so....

Blinking at him you let a soft grin tug at your lips, "you don't have to apologize, I know I'm a little irritating and a pain in the ass to be around" you shrug and look down at Grogu, heart full of love at the sight of his peaceful slumber.

"you're not that bad... Maybe a little bit of a pain in the ass" although he was hidden by the helmet, you could hear the smile in his voice. You chuckle quietly and look back up at him.

"you're something else din..." you whisper do to Grogu shifting around, rolling over towards din. His heart swells at how Grogu laid his little hand on his bicep, a smile on the little one's face as he slept.

"is that a good thing or bad thing?" din spoke just as quiet as you did, modulater making his voice even deeper as he whispers, a husky sound you found yourself hanging onto with a undeniable yearning. How you wish you could hear it without the helmet....

"it's a good thing, definitely a good thing" you smile up at him, the sight enough to make his heart flutter wildy. "you big softie" you murmur, unable to stop yourself from letting the words roll off your tongue.

"I'm not a softie, I'm a bounty hunter" he knew you didn't mean anything bad by the nickname you've given him. But he couldn't help the way it sometimes irked him, why? He didn't know. Because sometimes he saw what you meant when you called him a softie, deep down inside he knew it was slightly true.

"to the galaxy yes, but to him... You're a softie. You spoil him rotten din!" you laugh a little loudly but managed to stifle them. "you treat him as if he's the most fragile, precious cargo to ever be created, you always buy him little things whenever you come back from hunts, and you always let him cuddle you" you grin at him with so much fondness din's heart nearly beats out of his chest with how gorgeous you are, glowing with joy, smile as bright as any star he's ever seen. "you're a softie, no denying it"

"and you are definitely a pain in the ass" he chuckles and shakes his head, visor still looking over at you as he laid on his back. "but even though you can really get on my nerves...i do have a soft spot for you" he confessed, nervous all the sudden as his hands fiddle with the end of his long sleeve shirt.

The smile on your face widens into one of pure happiness, eye's staring at din with love. He knew you was fond of him, and he was quite smitten with you, but he was afraid.... Afraid of losing you, afraid of watching you leave him in more ways then one.

But he was done being afraid, he couldn't live another day without holding you close, staring into those eyes of yours he adores. He wanted to hold you forever, kiss you until his lungs beg him for air, love you for as long as you or the galaxy will let him. Because din djarin was didn't want to spend another day without doing any of these things again.

"I love you" he blurts out, desperately. His voice holding nothing but truth, he sits up in the bed, careful not to wake Grogu as he does so, back pressed against the headboard while he only looks down at you with love. "I - I love you so much...." his voice cracks at the end as he stuttered.

You sit up fast, smile morphing into a more dazed gap, like a fish who was taken out of water. "din... I love you too. I've -

"Im so sorry I pushed you away and would always give you the cold shoulder but dank farrik y/n I can't go another day without saying it.... I love you" he rushed out, cutting your words off.

Tears fill your eye's, ones of joy, happiness. Heart overflowing with love for him. You smile so wide it hurts as you can see how nervous he has become. You gently grab his hand to stop his fidgeting, placing a kiss to each of his fingers. The act sends electricity through his veins, warmth over his whole being as his heart swells at the softness of your lips against his skin.

"I love you din... I always have, ever since you had asked me to work for you, I love you so damn much" you laugh breathlessly, tears threatening to fall.

"you and him" he nods down at Grogu, "are the only things in this galaxy that mean more to me then anyone could ever know...." he muttered, taking his hand out of your own, your eye's widen as you see him place both hands on his helmet, ready to take it off. Upon reflex, you screw your eyes shut, making din feel a wave of affection wash over him knowing you had so much respect for him. "open you're eye's" he said, but it sounded so much more different, much more richer and real.

Reluctantly, you open your eye's. Heart skipping a beat at the sight before you, two brown eye's full of love staring back at you, glossy. His dark hair a mess as his scruffy face was one purely adorable, handsome nose and charming jaw. Maker was din djarin a beautiful, handsome man. You slowly crawl more towards him, sitting in his lap, being sure not to disturb Grogu as you gently trace every detail of his face, starting at the few lines on his forehead, down his gorgeous nose, giggling once you find your fingertips brush against his mustache. He smiles, revealing his dimples. You smile up into his brown eyes and can't resist anymore.

You press a firm but gentle kiss on his lips, soft and warm as you always imagined them to be. Your palms press flush against his cheeks, scruffy little patches of hair tickling them. Din's hand lands on the nape of your neck as his other finds purchase on your hip. His eyes fluttering shut as his nose bumbs against yours. This kiss was perfect, as if it was the seal to your and his fate. You never wanted to live without him by your side. Hesitantly, you pull away from his soft lips, giggling whenever he chases your own.

"you are the most handsome man in the galaxy din" you breathlessly say, his eye's sparkling. It's then you noticed the golden specks, amber swirls amongst the brown of his gorgeous eyes

"I'm not much of a sight cyar'ika" he strokes your cheek with his thumb, so much affection swimming in his eye's. His soft smile bringing out his dimples again, he was truly something special....

"you're more then a sight din... You're more beautiful then anything else in the galaxy" you say, running a hand through his hair, fingers lightly scratching at his scalp. He relaxes with a content sigh.

"you're the beautiful one here" he smiles up at you adorably, your heart fluttering. You lean your forehead on his and grin. "i love you..." he whispers in his husky deep voice you couldn't ever tire of.

"I love you more" you say back while placing a kiss atop his nose. He scrunched his face up and chuckles at you, the sound even more beautiful now that it came out natural. "but we better get sleep since I've got a long day of mechanic work tomorrow, because a certain brown eyed beauty is a reckless flyer" you poke his cheek while crawling out of his lap, crawling back into your spot in the bed.

Din scoffs before scooting closer, his forehead nearly touching yours now as you both placed your hands on Grogu gently. "I'm a good pilot, you have to admit it" he grins at you, loving how you roll your eye's at him.

"I know you're a good pilot, but you're reckless din... No denying it" you kiss his nose again making him sigh dreamily, "I love you're nose..." you yawn, smiling at him afterwards with a sleepy grin.

"I've noticed, if you don't stop kissing it I'm gonna put the helmet back on" he jokes while he yawns himself now, eye's drooping as sleep crept up on him slowly.

"oh, do you want me to stop kissing you?" you say with your usual teasing tone.

"no! I'm not saying that" he instantly said, almost to loud. You laugh at his reaction and shake your head.

"I was joking din... I'd never stop kissing you" you peck his lips, pulling away to quick for his liking. But he watches as your eyes slowly flutter shut, no matter how hard you tried to keep them open.

This was exactly what din wanted, his little family in his arms. He smiles down at Grogu who snores lightly and then looks to you, who slept peacefully now. He was beyond lucky to have both of you, and he'd do whatever it takes to keep you both safe, because he loved you both more then anyone would ever know...

___________________________________________

[berrynarrybanana]

pink lemonade

A/n: I...had a cliche moment of I wrote this and it got deleted bc my computer had a hissy fit while I was trying to find a good pic to use. All I want to say is that I spent weeks agonizing over this piece because I wasn’t sure that it was good enough and that it touched on bi!reader as much as it should. I started it out in Harry’s POV and it kind of just took off from there. This is very heavily based off a song from one of my favorite bands. It’s called pink lemonade by the wombats and it really gave me inspiration to write this whole fic and for my reader and flatmate!h. I hope that I did this justice, because as a bi woman, I know how little representation we get in media and in fics. So thank you to the beautiful @bopbopstyles and @harrysclementines for hosting a challenge that made me feel included. I really appreciate and love you both so much! 

warnings: smut, drug use mention, angst, harry’s pov

word count: 4.3k+

Please enjoy and feel free to tell me what you think! 

Friday Night 

Harry remembers the day he met his flatmate. 

She was a little shorter than him, but her personality definitely made her seem much taller. She had her hair up in a messy bun, her Rolling Stones shirt tucked in, and her jeans cuffed at the bottom. She introduced herself to him with a dazzling smile and a witty joke about being a stereotypical bisexual being. It made him laugh, pulling her into a hug (after asking her permission) because they were going to be flatmates and she needed to know he was a hugger. He didn’t want to start off on an awkward note with a person he would be spending so much time with. He suggested they order some pizza and drink wine on the floor of their living room on their first night. 

Their furniture hadn’t been delivered or moved in yet, so they had to settle for putting a few of y/n’s pillows under their bums while they watched comedy specials on Harry’s laptop. A majority of their evening was spent giggling and sharing stories about their previous experiences with old girlfriends. He found it oddly comforting that the beautiful girl was a little bit different, because he had always felt that way in life. With her, he didn’t feel so alone in being different. Perhaps that was one of the things that made him fall in love with her. She was a bright, radiant soul that brought him more joy than anyone else ever had. But she could be a bit thick, sometimes. 

As he watched her prance around their apartment in her tight mini-dress, he tried his best not to let her see his obvious attraction to her. 

The pillow on his lap would seem obvious to just about anyone else, but not to his precious flatmate. She practically floated through life, oblivious to how people looked at her when she moved. She was like a walking porn ad, her beautiful hair and gorgeous smile nearly impossible to ignore. He tried not to focus too hard on what she was wearing, but christ, it was hard not to. Her legs looked a little longer due to the black heeled booties she’d put on and she was most definitely wearing tights with little sparkles in the fabric. 

He hated seeing her dressed up like this, knowing that he wouldn’t be the one sliding his hands up her dress in the backseat of the taxi on the way home. He wouldn’t be the one gripping at her thighs while she straddled him on their shared couch. He wouldn’t be the one making her scream, unable to contain herself as he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of her. He hated that she was wearing the perfect shade of red on her lips, a shade that painted the walls of the prison cell in his own personal hell inside. He wanted to smear it off her lips with his own, kissing her until she was breathless and begging. 

Instead, he flipped through the channels on the telly, pretending to pay attention.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out, Harry?” She stood in front of him, pouting her lips out as she tilted her head to the side. He shook his head as she crossed her arms, the gesture pushing her breasts up just a little. Fuck me, Harry thought. “You love going out!” 

“I know, love.” He grumbled, glancing behind her as if she was in the way. “But I’m not really in the mood to party tonight and I don’t want to bring the mood down.” 

“Well, I don’t feel right going out without you.” She sighed, dropping her arms to the side, causing Harry to look up at her. “Maybe I should stay home? We can order takeout and-” 

“Absolutely not.” He shook his head. “You have a date. You can’t stand him up!” 

“He’s just some rando from Tinder, I really don’t care about his feelings.,H.” She snorted out a laugh, rolling those perfect eyes as he tried to fight off a smile. “I’d rather be with you if you’re feeling down.”

“Don’t give up the chance for a good time because I’m a grumpy old man.” He shook his head. “I really want you to go out.” 

“Okay, okay.” She let out a heavy exhale, stepping farther away. “How do I look?” 

“Perfect.” He didn’t tear his eyes away from the telly, knowing he would overshare if he actually looked at her right now. 

“You didn’t even look!” She laughed around a playful groan. “Boys.” 

“I’m a man, love!” He called out as she walked into the kitchen for her keys. “If you’re too drunk, call me. Don’t go home with your random tinder date and-” 

“Lock the door when I’m home.” She nodded. “I know the rules, dad.” 

“Please do not ever call me that again.” Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “Go, get out of here and go have some fun. Tell everyone I said hi.” 

“I will!” She smiled. “Bye, roomie!” 

“Bye!” He waved, his heart sinking as the door shut behind her. “Guess I’ll be having a sad wank about that later.” 

Harry grumbled, sinking further into the cushions of their shared couch. 

                                   ******************************************

Saturday Morning 

The guy from Friday seemed to be a keeper. 

He was there the next morning when Harry was making a hangover breakfast in the kitchen for his flatmate. He strutted  in without a shirt or a word, reaching for a coffee cup as if he owned the place. Last time Harry checked, only two people paid rent here. Harry watched from the stove, spatula in hand as he glared at the man’s back. What a sodding prick. With a quick roll of his eyes, Harry pushed around the potatoes he’d chopped up earlier. Of course she brought him home. It had been weeks since she’d had a proper shag and it was bound to happen sooner or later. And even if Harry hated to admit it, the man standing in his kitchen gave it to her proper. Harry closed his eyes, cringing at memory of her moans melded with the banging of her headboard against the wall last night.

He hadn’t heard her moan out like that in a long time. Halfway through orgasm number two out of god knows how many, Harry shoved his headphones in and tried not to cry. He hated that someone else was making her feel so good that she was screaming the bloody walls down. He wanted to sink into her, to have her screaming out his name instead. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not even in his dreams could he have her, always cutting off right around the time his hands landed on her hips. 

“Oh, didn’t see you there, mate.” The guy turned around. “M’Alfie.” 

“Harry.” He grumbled, reaching up to the heat down. “Y/N’s roommate.” 

“She told me about you.” Alfie nodded. “Said you’re a right laugh when you’re drinking.” 

“Did she now?” Harry hummed as if he was actually interested in the conversation. 

“Shame you didn’t come out with us.” Alfie said. “Y/N was a fucking animal. Have you ever had sex with her? I mean she’s amazing when she’s high.” 

Harry wanted to vomit. 

This guy was a total prick.

“Yeah, what a shame.” Harry cleared his throat, glancing over at Alfie. “When Y/N wakes up, let her know that breakfast is here. She’s going to want two pieces of toast with butter.” 

“I will tell her.” Alfie sipped out of the bright pink mug and Harry’s face grew hot. That was his mug, the one that Y/N got him for Christmas last year. The little lamb on the front with a comical smile was mocking him now. “You alright, mate?” 

“Yeah, I’m stellar.” 

Harry stormed out of the kitchen and down the hall. 

He nearly made it to his door when she stumbled out of her bedroom. 

“Morning, Harry.” She yawned before smiling at her roommate. 

He didn’t respond, ducking past her and into his bedroom. 

Maybe he didn’t really know the girl he loved after all. 

                                            *******************************

Another Magical Friday Night 

Alfie, as it turns out, wasn’t a keeper. 

During their second escapade, Alfie shouting to the top of his lungs pulled Harry out of his half-asleep state. His heart sank and his blood ran cold as he sprinted out of his bedroom to Y/N’s. When he got there, Alfie was storming out of her bedroom, half dressed with a red face. Harry stood in Y/N’s doorway, avoiding her gaze as she struggled to put a t-shirt on. After a few moments, Harry couldn’t stand to hear her soft whimpers and loud sniffles. He tore his own shirt off, walking over to where she was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed in front of her. 

“S’alright,” He cooed, sitting down in front of her as he slipped his shirt over her head. “It’s okay, love.” 

“I’m sorry we woke you up.” She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to the column of his throat as she cried. “I know you have an early yoga class tomorrow.” 

“Please don’t apologize.” He said softly, rubbing his hand over her back. “Tell me what he did?” 

“He didn’t do anything.” She shook her head, pulling back as she wiped at her cheeks. “I just...Alfie dabbles a bit in drugs and I tried some with him last week, but I didn’t like it. I told him I didn’t want to do it again and he called me a whore and a tease.” 

Harry’s jaw tensed as he watched his best friend hiccup, swiping under her eyes again. 

“You are not a whore.” Harry reached up, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, demanding her attention. “Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you need to be ashamed of yourself.” 

“Thank you.” She sniffled. “Sleep with me tonight?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Let’s go to my room instead, okay?” 

He didn’t have the heart to tell her he couldn’t sleep in her bed right now. 

Not after Alfie had been in it. 

“Okay.” She gave him a wavering smile. “Thank you, H.” 

“Anytime.” 

Harry held her that night, his heart pounding against his chest as she cuddled into him. 

As he drifted off, he mumbled out loud, “This must be what heaven feels like.” 

He hoped she didn’t hear him. 

                                            ****************************

Harry decided that if Y/N was going out this Friday, he was too.

He couldn’t stand the thought of her going out without him by her side after last week’s incident with Alfie. There was no Tinder date for her to meet up with, just Harry and a few other friends who wanted to have a good time. They got ready in their shared bathroom together, pre-gaming with whatever they had left as they sang loudly to Harry’s pre-game playlist. When she spritzed her perfume over her neck, Harry’s mouth started to water. 

The warm vanilla and citrus hybrid was damn near a love potion to him. 

“Alright,” She nodded, giving herself a once over in the mirror. “I’m ready.” 

“You look perfect.” He smiled, trailing his eyes up from her vegan, leather combat boots to her black skinny jeans, finally settling on the lacy bodysuit that she had recently purchased. “S’a bit like lingerie, innit it?” 

“Yeah.” She shrugged her shoulders, pursuing her lips as Harry looked at her eyes. “But it’s nice and light and extremely sexy.” 

“One of those nights?” Harry’s brows quirked up and he forced a little smirk to settle on his lips as she nodded. “Good, you deserve a bit of fun.” 

And he actually meant it, this time. 

She did deserve to have a little fun after Alfie

He could suck it up for one night if the girl he loved would be happy at the end of it. 

“I do.” She giggled, reaching down to grab the bottle of tequila set on the bathroom countertop, wiggling it around. “One more shot for good luck?”

“Pour it up.” 

                                         *****************************

Harry bucked his hips up as the girl above him rolled her hips over his denim clad cock. 

This time, he brought someone home. 

Granted, Y/N brought someone home as well, he now had a distraction to keep his mind busy and his cock wet while his flatmate got off. The girl he’d met at the club was so sweet, her hazel eyes enticing him the moment his gaze met hers. Her lips were so soft and they tasted like strawberries. He wondered what Y/N tasted like? They were normally covered in gloss when she went out, shiny and peachy. Did her lips taste like peach? Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as the girl dug her nails into his stomach. 

“Can I take your pants off?” She asked, timid and soft. Nothing like Y/N demanding the naughtiest of things on the other side of the wall. “I’m ready to...I want to ride you.” 

“Okay, yeah.” Harry opened his eyes, sitting up as he wrapped his arms around her. He pressed a few soft kisses over her jaw before catching her mouth in his. “Just a second, love.”

“You’re sweet.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, swinging her leg over his thighs as he reached for his buttons. 

“Fuck, yes!” 

Harry rolled his eyes, fumbling with the zipper on his trousers as the girl next to him slapped her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. 

“She’s loud.” She giggled, reaching down to start working on her heels. 

“I know.” Harry sighed. “I’m really sorry about that. I...I didn’t know she would be bringing someone-” 

“Right there, y/n! Yes baby yes!” 

“Jesus.” He let out a huff, reaching his hand up to tap the wall with his fist. “Oi, other people are trying to have fun here.” 

“Oh my god.” The girl tossed her head back, barking out a laugh. “You don’t have to do that, it’s fine.” 

“Sorry, H.” Y/N called back. “We’ll keep it down.” 

“I just don’t want to ruin the mood for us.” He shuffled out of his jeans and boxers, tossing them to the side before he looked back at her. 

“I’m okay.” She climbed on top of him again, her shoes now tossed aside and her dress hiked up to her hips. “I really, really don’t care about anything else but fucking you right now.” 

“Oh.” Harry’s cheeks were surely tinged pink as she gripped his cock in her hand, stroking up with gentle movements. “Fuck, that’s nice.” 

“Good.” She leaned forward, pressing her free hand to his shoulder. He fell back onto the mattress, dropping his hands to her thighs. “I promise I’m gonna make you cum so hard, you won’t even know there’s anyone else in the world besides me.” 

Harry dropped his head back, digging his nails into her thighs as she lined herself up with his cock. It had been so long since he’d fucked anyone, his emotions for Y/N a huge cock-block that he couldn’t seem to shake. Other girls just didn’t do it for him anymore.  But tonight, the alcohol in his veins and the vision of Y/N nearly fingering some girl in the back of the club reminded him that he was free to fuck whoever he wanted, despite his love for Y/N.

“Y/N!” 

Harry let out a heavy sigh through his nose, the sound of Y/N’s one night stand screaming making the fire in his belly dim just a little. He didn’t even care that his own girl was sinking onto his cock, soaking wet and tight like a vice. He barely even remembered that she was on top of him until she moaned his name out. 

He opened his eyes, watching her face contort as she settled onto his thighs. 

“You’re huge.” She whispered, tilting her head back. “I swear I’ve never had...never had someone so big, fuck.” 

“Yeah?” He licked over his bottom lip, sliding a palm up to her belly. “Feel me there?” 

“Mhm.” She whimpered, gripping onto his wrist. “M’so full.”

“Y/N, please let me cum.” 

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, reaching his hands up to rub over his face. 

“Are they bothering you?” The girl asked softly, lifting off of his cock. “Because it seems like they are.” 

“A little, yeah.” Harry nodded, wincing as his cock slapped against his stomach. “I’m really sorry, it’s not that you aren’t amazing-” 

“I get it, it’s okay.” She fell next to him as his cock started to soften. “I would be kind of wigged out if my roommate was fucking while I was too.” 

“She does this every Friday night.” Harry said. “And...not to continue ruining whatever we had going between us, but I’m kind of in love with her.” 

“Oh.” The girl whispered. “That would really turn me off.” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “And I was trying to have fun for once, you know? Because she seems to go about life oblivious to my feelings and I’m stuck pining for her while she’s fucking whoever she wants to.” 

“Do you think she knows that you like her?” His date asked. 

“I don’t know, probably not.” He mumbled, turning his head to look at her. “You don’t have to listen to me moan on about it, I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay.” She turned on her side, pressing her palm to his chest. “I have a feeling you haven’t talked to anyone about this and it’s not very healthy to keep things bottled up.”

“You’re right about that.” Harry smiled. “You know, I have a friend who would absolutely adore you.” 

“Is it Y/N?” She giggled. “Because I don’t swing that way.” 

“Oi, you think I’d let you shag the girl I just told you I’m in love with?” He laughed, his brows crinkling together as he reached over to pinch her hip. “It’s not her.” 

“Good.” She laughed with Harry, sliding closer to him. “Would it be weird if I stay?” 

“No,” He shook his head. “It’s the least I can do after wasting your time.” 

“And...what about a cuddle?” She asked. “Because I do enjoy a good cuddle session.” 

“I can deal with that, I think.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. “Thank you.” 

                                           *****************************

The next morning, Harry was livid. 

He sent his date, Halle was her name, off with a sweet kiss and a coffee to-go. Maybe in another life, she would have been perfect for him. A soft, sweet girl with kind eyes and a willingness to listen to him. Unfortunately for him, he was too far up his obnoxious flatmate’s ass to see anyone else. And even if it made things awkward between them, he had to tell her how he felt. There was no way he could keep going on like this if there was a way to prevent it. 

“Good morning,” She chirped, her hand linked with the girl she brought home last night. “Are we having breakfast?” 

“You can do whatever the fuck you want.” Harry snapped, taking his coffee mug and his breakfast plate from the counter. “I don’t care.” 

Y/N’s jaw dropped and the girl’s eyes grew wide. 

Harry didn’t say another word, walking past the two girls.

He hated being a dick, but lashing out made him feel the tiniest bit better about what happened last night. He pushed his bedroom door open with his hip, settling back into bed as he flicked through his options on Netflix. He wasn’t even thinking of Y/N, his mind struggling to remember whether or not he’d seen the last episode of the Great British Bake-Off. When he realized that he hadn’t, clicking on the title to start the episode, his bedroom door flew open and his roommate stormed in. 

“Fuck you!” She snapped, reaching for his remote, standing in front of his bed with a scowl on her perfect lips. “I don’t know who pissed in your cheerios this morning, but you don’t get to talk to me like that! Especially not in front of guests.” 

“Okay.” Harry shrugged. “Can I have my remote-” 

“No, you can’t!” She shouted, tossing her hands up as she let out a noise crossed between a groan and a growl. “What’s your deal?” 

“I haven’t exactly finished my coffee, love.” Harry was trying not to relish in the sight of his roommate frustrated and adorable. The feeling she was experiencing now was a fraction of what he felt every time he heard her through the wall. “Maybe come back later?” 

“Are you upset because I fucked someone last night and you didn’t?” Her brows shot up. “I know you didn’t cum last night and neither did the girl you brought home. Are you mad because you’re shit in bed?” 

“Maybe we were quiet. You know, decent and considerate of other people,” The smile he gave her was sarcastic. “Or maybe- and this is a good one- maybe, I had a girl sitting on my cock, ready to fuck me so bloody good I would cry, but I couldn’t let her because all I could think about was how much I love you. ” 

“What?” She asked, her mouth falling ajar. 

“Maybe when I was kissing her at the club, I was thinking about kissing you.” He set his coffee mug down on his nightstand, continuing on. “And maybe when I had my fingers in her cunt, I was thinking about you. And maybe, just maybe, every time you fuck someone so loud that it keeps me up at night, I wish it was me instead.” 

She didn’t say anything, watching as Harry moved forward. He snagged the remote from her hand, proud of his little confession. He turned the show back on, ignoring his roommate as she stood there with her eyes wide. He smirked, crossing his legs before he settled his hand on his stomach. 

“You process that and I’m just gonna watch Noel and Paul bicker.” Harry said. 

“You’re an asshole.” She whispered. “You...you can’t just be upset with me because I didn’t know that you liked me.” 

“I’m not upset with you,” He said. “I’m a little upset that I was trying to have a good time for once and you ruined it with you and your girl’s pornstar moaning, but I’m not upset with you. That would be extremely unfair of me.” 

“Why have you never said anything?” She cleared her throat, fidgeting with the hem of her oversized shirt. “We’ve been roommates for years, Harry.” 

“Because I love you as a friend, too.” He started. “I didn’t want to risk it.” 

“And now?” She squeaked out. “You’re willing to risk it now?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m tired of wishing that it was me on the other side of this wall, Y/N. So...take some time to think about what I said and let me know if you’d be willing to give it a try. No hard feelings if you don’t want the same thing, I completely understand and I’ll respect your choice either way. We’ll just have to work out some arrangement where you let me know when you have someone-” 

“I want to try.” She said quickly, kneeling on the edge of the bed. “Because I really like you, Harry. Like, the only reason I’ve brought so many people back home with me is because I couldn’t have you. I knew that there was no way in hell you would like a girl like me. I’m obnoxious and boisterous and just...I didn’t think I was your type.” 

“You’re kidding?” His brows shot up. “You thought...oh my god, we’re both bloody idiots.” 

“You’re telling me.” She laughed, falling on her ass in front of him. “This whole time I’ve been fucking people that loudly to make you jealous and the entire time you’ve been listening, imaging it was you?” 

“I guess so.” He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I guess that leaves us with two options.” 

“And what might those be?” She asked, a soft smile settling on her lips. 

“I take you out for brunch, maybe a nice walk in the park, and then I bring you home and fuck you so hard you won’t even remember the orgasms you had last night.” He lifted one finger up, smiling as he watched her inhale sharply. “Or option two, I fuck you now and we go to brunch later?” 

“Wouldn’t it just be lunch by then?” She tilted her head to the side, playfully narrowing her eyes at him. “I mean...that defeats the purpose, yeah?” 

“Really, that’s-” Harry let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re missing the point.” 

“I’m not.” She leaned forward, sliding her hands over his thighs. “I see it clear as day.” 

“And what does your heart tell you to do?” He licked over his bottom lip as she moved closer, her nose nearly bumping against his. 

“To take you up on option two.” She whispered. “Because it’s really not fair that I came five times last night and you didn’t come, not even once.” 

“Fuck.” Harry sputtered out as she brushed her lips over his. “Kiss me?” 

She pressed her lips into his, moving his body back onto his pillows. She moved over him, straddling his thighs as she deepened the kiss. When her tongue slipped over his bottom lip, his mouth fell open in response. His hands fell to her hips, digging into the soft flesh as his mind tried to catch up. The girl of his dreams was sitting on his lap, in his bed, and she wanted him. She wanted him just as bad as he wanted her. He couldn’t believe that this was happening, sure that he was just a fever dream or a nightmare that he would wake up from any second. But he was brought back to reality when her tongue slipped over his. 

And at that moment, Harry knew he was right. 

She did taste like peach. 

[captainsolare]

Concert

Fluffvember Day 7: Concert - Leopold Vermillion (f! reader) 

Summary: You're a classical violinist and tonight is your big debut at the Castle Town concert hall. Your long-time friend Leopold is in the audience, and he begins to see you in a whole new light after watching you achieve your biggest dream

Word Count: 1,825 

A/N: I’m probably a little biased because I am a classical violinist, but this was by far my favorite one to write so far this month! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The Max Bruch Violin Concerto no. 1 partly inspired this so if you would like to, listen to the first movement. 

masterlist 

----- 

You stood in the atrium of the concert hall, patrons, mostly upper crust and royalty, milling about and drinking before the event began. "Ugh Y/N, I don't know how you can stand going to these events. Everything is so stuffy, even the clothing." Your friend Leopold complained, pulling the collar of his dress shirt away from his neck. You rolled your eyes, at him lightly punching him in the arm, "Going to these events, is kind of my job you know. Plus, orchestra music isn't stuffy, you're just lame and have no taste." 

Leo was about to object but before he could do so a bell was rung and you had to dash off. "Sorry! That's my cue to go change, I'll see you after the concert okay?" You said apologetically, planting a chaste goodbye kiss on his cheek before disappearing into the crowd. The kiss was meant as a friendly gesture, nothing more, the two of you had grown up quite close after all, but nonetheless Leo was left standing there dumbstruck, hand lightly touching the place your lips had been a moment before. 

He gathered himself and entered the concert hall, heading for the Vermillion family box; he was a little nervous he had to admit, he was the sole Vermillion sibling here tonight and so a lot of eyes were on him. Fuegoleon was away on an important business matter and who knows where Mereoleona was, she usually couldn't be bothered to come to events like this, they were far too constricting for her wild nature. 

Even though Leo found these events stuffy, like most of his royal duties, he came tonight without much complaint because tonight would be the first time he would get to see you perform a concerto with an orchestra as large as this one. You had picked up the violin at an early age, and had been traveling the country playing at concert halls all over, but tonight would be your big debut on the Castle Town stage and Leo was excited. Not because he particularly enjoyed orchestral music like this, but because it was something you enjoyed.  Growing up, he had always admired the way your eyes sparkled as you talked about your dreams of someday playing on this stage, and here you were achieving the dream you had worked so hard for. 

The first piece was a long drawn out number that had him nearly falling asleep, Mimosa, his cousin, had to elbow him several times to keep him from snoring. He supposed he should have felt a bit sheepish, but you weren't onstage so he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. During intermission Mimosa turned to him excitedly, "Y/N is on next, isn't that so exciting?" He nodded, "Yeah! This is her big dream!" 

Intermission seemed to be over in a flash, the lights dimming and he waited with bated breath as the spotlight lit up the space you'd walk through shortly. When you appeared Leo felt his breath hitch, you were in a stunning turquoise dress, sparkling in the light that illuminated the stage. "Wow." Mimosa whispered, awestruck. He could only nod in agreement, the dress suited you perfectly, the perfect battle armor to conquer the stage tonight. 

When you'd told him about this concert a few weeks ago, it had taken everything in him not to launch himself across the table and wrap you up in a bear hug. Well, almost everything, despite him trying not to, he did it anyway, leaving you both grinning ear to ear and laughing with excitement.

The audience clapped and you shook hands with the conductor and the concertmaster then took up your post near the front of the stage. Leo remembered you mentioning that you were nervous about playing from memory, so he silently cheered you on, hoping you could hear him in your heart. 

As the timpani began playing, your eyes searched the audience, your hands were sweaty and your heart was pounding, you couldn't see the audience very well because of the spotlights but you knew there was a familiar head of red hair out in the crowd and that gave you comfort. The flutes and woodwinds came in next and you prepared to come in with your cadenza. 

From the second your first note reached his ears, to the second your last chord echoed through the hall Leo simply found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. Your notes were spellbinding, taking his breath away and telling a story with just sound, it was a language unlike any he had heard before. He had always admired you, your strength of character, your sense of humor, your honesty, brutal at times but that's definitely when he needed to hear it the most; but tonight, something tugged at his heartstrings and was rooting in his brain, and suddenly he saw you in a whole new light. 

When the concerto ended you were a panting mess, any trace of nervousness had evaporated as you reached the end, a beaming smile appeared on your face as you bowed, the roar of applause filling your ears. From somewhere in the crowd you heard a distinct whistle and you had to contain your laughter, that was definitely Leo. I guess he liked it then? That's fantastic!  You probably wouldn't admit this to anyone, but when you got up on this stage tonight you didn't care about all the opinions of the various noble folk and royalty that had attended, if you were being honest the most important, and perhaps the only opinion that mattered to you was Leopold's. 

You made your way to the atrium because you had to accept your congratulations from the audience members in person, it was simply good practice. Several people congratulated you, others noted that you played well even though you were not royalty, you took each comment with grace and a smile, praying that you'd be able to go home soon and celebrate as you wished to; perhaps with a long soak in the bath to ease your aching muscles.

 Leo and Mimosa appeared in the atrium, eyes scanning the room for a sign of you; Mimosa couldn't help but be amused by the way you both perked up as you caught sight of one another. Ahh, young love. She mused, then giggled to herself, who am I kidding? I'm young too. 

Leo made a beeline for you as soon as your current conversation ended and grabbed your hands with excitement. "Oh Y/N, that was so amazing, I could just kiss you right now!" He said, practically buzzing with energy. You deadpanned and he was about to pull away, but rather than pulling away as well you said, "Kiss me then." It was almost a challenge, and Leo backed down from it, suddenly hyper-aware of all the people watching you; he lost his nerve and decided to change the subject. 

"Do you--- do you need someone to come with you? To help carry your things?" He asked, nervous about even this small interaction for some reason. Mentally he kicked himself, usually, conversation was so easy with you, but now he was just a bumbling mess. Your face fell into a smile, "That would be lovely Leo." You led the way to the green room and greeted the other performers, thanking them for a job well done. As you packed your things, Leo couldn't help but notice the slight frown that twisted your features. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly. When you nodded he dropped the subject, opting instead to carry your things as he had promised. 

The atrium was empty when you emerged from the green room, and you found yourself in awkward silence with Leo. Secretly, you were disappointed that he hadn't taken you up on your challenge earlier and you didn't know how to feel about it. Do I really have feelings for him? Leo's thoughts seemed to be on the same track as yours as you exited the building into the night air.

 "Did you mean it?" "Mean what?" You asked, turning to face him; in an attempt to not misconstrue things you weren't going to answer unless he asked you exactly what was on his mind. A blush graced Leo's features and his heart was pounding in his head, "Did you actually want me to kiss you back there?" 

You tilted your head, trying to sort through your emotions so you could give him a straight answer. "I think so. I'm not really sure, I just, I said that without thinking and I'm not sure of what exactly I'm feeling right now." Leo gulped, trying to gather up the courage for his next question, "Do you… do you still want me to?" 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded, eyes not leaving your friend for a second as he carefully set your things on the ground next to him. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and awkwardly grabbed your arms as he leaned in, the kiss was short and sweet, but it left you with an unsatisfied feeling and solidified in your mind that you did, in fact, want to kiss him. In fact, you wanted to kiss his stupid face again and again. 

Leo looked away awkwardly, wanting to kiss you again but not sure how to ask. Luckily he didn't have to, as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him in closer to you. "Do you want me to?" You asked breathlessly, you were so close you could feel each other's breaths on your lips. When he nodded you didn't hesitate, slamming your lips into his. 

Mimosa appeared from out of the concert hall, a mixture of wanting to roll her eyes and cheer seeping into her expression. "Took you guys long enough." She said, hands on her hips and looking away; she was happy for you both but the last thing she wanted to watch was your makeout session. 

The two of you jumped and pulled apart quickly at her sudden interjection. "What do you mean, took us long enough?" You asked, a little sheepish at the implication that she had known your feelings long before you had. "Don't worry about it. Want to go get some ice cream or something to go celebrate your big night?" You and Leo exchanged a glance, "Absolutely!" Mimosa led the way to the nearby ice cream shop, you and Leo trailing a little ways behind. 

"Was tonight exactly how you dreamed it would be?" He asked as you walked hand in hand. You shook your head and smiled at him, glancing at your intertwined hands, "Nope, it was even better." 

"Hurry up or I'll eat without you!" Mimosa yelled, interrupting your moment for a second time that night. You both chuckled and sped up to meet her at the door, filled with the feeling of a new chapter beginning. 

[goddessofthundathighs]

X. REVELATION

Word Count: 2.9K

*taps mic* Is this thing on? Aight, I know I said that I’d update CS every 3-5 business months, but life happened for both me & @hearteyes-for-killmonger. Let me just tell y’all how many times I wanted to completely scrap this book, simply because for a second, I fell out of love with it. I also thought that you guys were no longer interested. For our loyal readers, thank you for sticking with us! This chapter is fairly short, but MAJOR progression is made!

It’s also late, so this is un-beta’d. Any errors will be corrected in the morning.

************

Skylar’s face turned up in a wide grin as O’Shea came downstairs with her latest flower arrangement. If Oya wasn’t good at anything else, she was a professional at wooing her. The bright yellow of the freshly picked sunflowers was a beautiful contrast to the deep red hue of the roses. She’d forgotten that she’d mentioned that they were her favorites.

“With love, from Bae,” O’Shea read teasingly, only making the smile on Skylar’s face stretch wider. “And again I ask, why aren’t the two of you officially a thing? The mutual attraction is obvious and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this wide. Like you’re really flashing all 32 right now,” she asked, placing the vase on the corner of Sky’s desk.

“Because it’s not that easy, Shea. I have walls that need to be broken down and we both have issues that we need to work through. This is why SPT is so important. I have to understand exactly who I’m dealing with before we take things to the next level.”

O’Shea nodded. She hadn’t really thought about their situation like that. She’d just assumed that Sky was still working through ridding herself of Monica and was afraid of being heartbroken again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that. So is she Erik’s client now?”

“Yes. He’ll be her official therapist and draw up our plan of action as far as treatment.”

“Why does she feel like she needs treatment? She doesn’t seem to struggle sexually.”

“Looks can be deceiving, Shea. Behavior is also an indication that there may be underlying issues. Most of the clients that Erik and I treat are fully functioning. Look at you, for example.” Shea pulls a face. It was entirely too early in the workday for Skylar to be coming for her edges. She hadn’t even finished her acai breakfast bowl. “Aye, we not talking about me,” she fussed, placing her hands on her hips.

“But you fit the example. Personally, I think her excessive need to be sexual is a cover for something deeper, I just have to get her to tell me what it is.”

Sky couldn’t deny the soft spot she had for Oya. Even if things didn’t work out on the personal side of their relationship, she still cared for her and wanted to ensure she received the best treatment. Regardless of past situations, everybody deserved to be loved and accepted for who they truly are.

**

A pregnant silence engulfed Erik’s office as Oya and Skylar waited for him to speak. For the last 45 minutes he had been busy typing away at his computer, only pausing briefly to think before starting again. Once finished, he leans back in the Italian leather chair, stroking his beard as he gives the therapy plan a final onceover.

“Alright, before we begin, we first need to get to the root of the problem. Oya, why do you feel you need SPT and what do you hope to gain from it, other than my business partner as a mate?”

Ouch.

Oya recoiled slightly at his brashness. She hadn’t expected to be put on front street so quickly, nor was she prepared to discuss her history so soon. She suddenly felt bare, like she had been stripped of all of her clothing in front of a crowded high school auditorium and her anxiety was spiking. Skylar took notice of how withdrawn she’d become and placed a comforting hand on her thigh.

“It’s okay, Oya. You don’t have to explain in detail just yet, we just need a general idea of what we’re dealing with so that we approach it in the best way,” Skylar explained, the gentleness of her voice causing Oya to return her soft smile.

While she knew that there wasn’t a logical reason to be afraid of Erik or his opinion, her brain had been conditioned to be critical of men ever since that fateful night in her uncle’s basement. Still, having Skylar there was comforting. Her presence made it easier to generate a Spark Notes version of her past.

“I was abused and shunned as a child and as a result, became overtly sexual. While I know that sex can’t fill the void that was left from that experience, it’s the only way to silence the voices in my head. I started looking into SPT because I saw that abuse survivors can benefit from it.”

Erik’s face softened from its usual hard line. While he’d assumed this girl had been through the ringer, his mind couldn’t begin to fathom just how deep her trauma ran.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” he started. “Since it’s obvious that you’re a lot more comfortable speaking to Sky about this, how about the two of you do dinner. If not tonight, then later this week. During dinner, Oya, I need you to be as transparent as possible. I need you to go into full detail of what happened and then Skylar will report back to me. The two of us will formulate a comprehensive 8-week therapy plan, which will be implemented starting next week. Are you okay with doing this?”

Oya nodded, finally allowing herself to completely relax.

“We’re gonna get you right, Ms. Ramirez. Over the next 8 weeks you’ll watch yourself become a new woman, I guarantee it,” Erik smiles, offering her his hand to shake.

She accepts the invitation, returning his smile in the most infectious way before turning to Skylar.

“I know SPT doesn’t always require sex, but we can still implement some BDSM therapy, right?”

Sky laughs in response. Leave it to Oya to bring sexual humor into an otherwise serious situation.

“Baby steps, Ms. Ramirez.”

**

Oya's salmon arrived on the table and she licked her chops, having been out all day without eating. Why Sky had inquired about her level of hunger, Oya stated that her radiant smile was enough to fill her, however, the angry cry of her stomach told a different tale.

The pair opted for a Friday evening dinner, an excuse for Skylar to have a drink or two and not worry about having to work the following day. She sips her Hendricks and tonic slowly, savoring the crisp taste of the cucumbers she requested be added to the concoction.

Oya slammed face first into her plate effectively scaring the shit out of Sky who was currently rethinking a few things in regard to diet based on Oya's uncouth and grizzly attack on her fish. 

"Well. She eats fish like I eat pussy," Sky sighed, brushing it off. Still, she found herself keeping her eyes down to her own plate.

"I wasn't that hungry," Oya belched, wiping her mouth with her stained paper napkin. "I'll take another one still."

After her second fish, Sky was appalled at the way Oya had violated those salmon. She decided that she would also train Oya to eat like a human being and they would practice on a sushi date, since they require smaller bites.

“Alright fish murderer,” Sky finally chirps. “You’ve avoided the inevitable long enough, it’s time to talk.” Oya lifts her head slowly, much like a dog who has just been scolded for peeing on fresh carpet.

“Do we really have to talk about this? Like is it honestly necessary?”

“Yes, Oya. With all due respect, we can’t treat you if we don’t know what we’re treating. You gotta give us something.”

“I gave you something earlier,” she snaps defensively.

“Yes, but that’s not enough. There are several forms of abuse, Oya. Just saying you were abused doesn’t really tell us anything. We can’t use verbal abuse treatment methods to treat a victim of physical abuse. You understand that, right?” Sky asks incredulously.

Oya pinches the bridge of her nose in annoyance. She was beginning to regret even bringing up the whole thing. While she thought she was ready to expose this part of her life, fear and her anxiety were getting the best of her. She was beginning to close up again.

Just tell her, her psyche coaxes. 

“I was raped by my mother’s brother when I was ten. It happened nearly everyday for 6 months. It took everything in me to say something to my mother about it, but when I finally did, she accused me of lying.”

A lone tear slid down Oya’s cheek at the memory.

“From that point on, I haven’t been able to trust or fully commit to a man. Which is why I couldn’t talk to Dr. Stevens earlier. I know he means well, but --”

“It’s a work in progress, I understand,” Skylar interjects.

“To this day, she refuses to acknowledge what that man did to me, even though he’s currently serving a 20-year prison sentence for pedophilia. From that point on, sex was my escape. I know it sounds oxymoronic, but it helped fill the void and silence the pain. Even if the gratification was short lived.

Skylar takes her hand, offering a napkin to wipe the fresh tears that slid down her face.

“I think we should start slow. I’ll get with Erik, but I feel like our first few sessions should be meditation and sensate focus. I want you to be comfortable with touching and being touched in a nonsexual manner before we move onto more advanced methods. Are you ok with that?”

“I think so,” Oya admits. “I’ve been using sex to run from my demons for majority of my life. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“And when this is all over, you won’t have to,” Skylar smiles.

“I still wanna be your sex slave at some point, though,” Oya jokes.

“Check please!” Sky laughs.

**

After several back and forth debates as to where the session should be held, the doctors finally decided that Oya’s house would be best.

“It’s somewhere that she feels comfortable, and therefore, it should be easier for her to open up,” Erik said once the final decision was made. Sky nods her agreement, texting Oya to alert her of the plan.

Sky: Instead of coming to my office, we’ll be doing the session at your house. Is that ok?

Oya: Ooh, I get the good doctor all to myself. Say less. Here’s my address

Skylar chuckles at her eagerness, adding the address to her Maps app for later access.

“She seems excited,” she tells Erik, pocketing her phone.

“For now,” he says, sliding a manila folder towards her. “She’s flighty, so her nervousness can come back at any moment. Make sure you keep her relaxed the entire time.”

“Why you talking to me like she’s my first patient?”

“Just making sure your head is in the right place. You’re typically behind the scenes. Patients like Oya can be tricky.”

“I got this, dad,” Sky groans, swinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands to leave.

“You better stop. You ain’t called a nigga Daddy in a minute, Nola.” 

“Goodbye, Stevens! I’ll let you know how things go.”

“Text me. I promised the baby brat we’d go to the carnival later. She’s been dying for a funnel cake and a new stuffie.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Sky beams, armed with new ammunition to tease Shea with once they were back in the office. After reading through the therapy plan for herself, she rests the folder and her bag in the passenger seat and heads home. She would need the rest of the night to prepare for the next day’s session.

**

The California sun beamed brightly as Skylar made her way to Oya’s apartment. It was a beautiful three bedroom, three bath unit in Playa Vista, not far from the beach. Skylar was immediately drawn to the brightness of the space, the white walls with soft marble and gold accents adding to the feminine charm.

“I was thinking we could do this in my meditation room,” Oya said once Sky was done with her exploration.

“Ooh meditation room,” Skylar squealed, following her into what would become her favorite room in the entire unit. Behind the curtain of strung selenite crystals lay a spiritual oasis. Two black Buddah statues sat on both sides of the entrance while pink, orange, and yellow pillows decorated the floor. They looked to be from Bali or some other spiritual region. On the east and western walls were sun and moon appliques, subtle nods to the orishas Yemoja and Oshun, while chakra posters and decorations line the southern wall. On an inverted bookshelf near the front facing wall lay her crystals, sage, and a small altar Sky could tell had been used recently.

“Okay, I already loved the rest of the house, but this room is a whole vibe,” Skylar compliments, pulling out her notebook and video camera. “It’s standard practice that these sessions are recorded, but if you’re uncomfortable being on film, I have a tape recorder.”

“No, the camera is fine,” Oya assured, taking a seat on the pink pillow. She sat Indian style with her palms resting on her knees. Skylar placed her camera between two rose quartz cathedrals, taking a few test shots to ensure the angle was perfect. Once done, she mimicked Oya’s stance on the yellow pillow across from her.

“It is the third day of March and the time is 3:33 pm,” Skylar says, beginning the recording.

“I see you, Universe,” Oya muses to herself, allowing herself to be consumed by the feeling of divine protection.

“We’re going to start with simple breathing exercises to get you relaxed and comfortable, okay?” Oya nods in response. “First I need you to sit up straight, but keep your shoulders and neck relaxed.”

Oya complies, rolling her neck to the sides to release some apparent tension.

“Now, close your eyes and visualize your happy place. It could be the beach or your bed, just wherever makes you feel the happiest,” Sky instructs, doing the same. “Now, breathe in deep through your nose, hold it for about five seconds, then release through your mouth.”

The two repeat these steps about five times before Oya is finally allowed to open her eyes. Skylar makes note of the sated look in her eyes.

“How do you feel?” she asks softly.

“Surprisingly, I feel really good. I do breathing exercises often, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed before.” “Good, that’s what we want. Now, we’ll move into sensate touching. I’ll need you to remove your jewelry and as much clothing as you’re comfortable with.”

Oya’s face turns up into a sly smirk.

“Are you getting fresh with me, Dr. Greene,” she teases, slowly removing the white Nike crop top.

Sky chuckles before answering.

“Quite the opposite, Ms. Ramirez. In sensate touching, participants are typically nude and free from jewelry. The method we’ll be practicing this afternoon is non-genital sensate touching, which means that I will touch every single part of your body except your breasts and your vagina. While sensate touching may cause arousal, it is important that you remain professional and focus only on your own sensations while being touched, understood?” 

“Aye, aye, captain,” Oya responds, saluting for emphasis. This makes Skylar giggle.

“I can already tell you’re not going to make this easy for me, Ms. Ramirez.” “I promise to be a good girl, Dr. Greene. You have my word.”

“Alright. This first session will be strictly me touching you with my hands. If this goes well, then we can introduce other elements, such as feathers, scarves, and even oils. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or sleepy, let me know and we can continue another time.”

“I’m not allowed to fall asleep?” Oya questions.

“No. It’s important that you remain awake and conscious through the entire experience,” Sky responds, positioning herself behind Oya. Slowly and deliberately, Skylar rubs her hands up Oya’s arms, starting with just her palms. She moves up to her shoulders and neck, alternating between firm and subtle pressure to the pressure points there.

“Mmm,” Oya moans softly. “You should consider massage therapy,” she coos, allowing her head to fall slightly.

“You think so?” Sky asks with a grin. “Yes ma’am. Your touch is very relaxing, Dr. Greene,” Oya shudders as Skylar’s fingertips dance up and down her back.

“Well I’m glad you think so, Ms. Ramirez.”

The session continues for exactly 33 minutes before Oya’s eyes start to droop. “Okay, I think we need to stop, otherwise, I’m gonna be asleep in your arms,” Oya says, her voice audibly more soft and relaxed than when they first began.

Skylar shuts the camera off and makes a few more notes in her notebook before putting her things away. Without thinking, she sits down beside Oya, pulling her so that she was cradled against her supple bosom.

“I don’t think I’d object to that much,” she beams.

Oya bites her lip softly before staring up into Sky’s big green eyes. She could see herself getting lost in them for days.

“You think you’re capable of fixing me? I’m damaged goods, Dr. Greene.” Her voice came out just above a whisper, her tone laced with vulnerability. Skylar smoothed her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before delivering her heartfelt response. 

“A smushed Reese’s cup is still a Reese’s cup, Ms. Ramirez. And I happen to really like Reese’s cups.”

Oya’s smile spread across her whole face, a soft twinkle dancing in her eyes.

“I’ll be your Reese’s cup.”

**

@vikkidc @thadelightfulone @sydneebleu @blktinkerbell @madamslayyy @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @thehomierobbstark @ @iamrheaspeaks @mareethequeen @forbeautyandlife @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @blowmymbackout @wakanda-inspired @yaachtynoboat711 @nickidub718 @heyauntieeee @princessstevens @bakarilennox @xaviera108 @alexundefined @raysunshine78 @dameshaemonique @laketaj24 @youreadthatright @theogbadbitch @bugngiz @amirra88 @post-woke @im5ftbutmythroat66 @blackpinup22 @maya-leche @blessyd-bthyname @unholyxcumbucket @eclecticblkgirl @kissmyafropuff @rick-sosa @jennajai @allhailqueennel @killmongersbaby @eye-raq @thickemadame @soulfulbeauty19 -

[georgemackayhey]

Rules For Falling In Love: #2

summary: In which George wants to get married. But… you’re not dating. Why should you say yes?

a/n: The love for this fic has really made my heart ache in all the best ways! I hope yall love this update and I look forward to all your feedback of any and all kinds, as always ♡

w/c: 2k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You had a week from hell, one where you seemed to live and breathe your work against your will. When you were free to do as you pleased, all you wanted was to do was absolutely nothing.

When you got home to find George seemed to have been waiting there all afternoon like a puppy, you rolled your eyes, entirely too exhausted to consider having fun. But before you had the chance to give that speech, George ushered you to the sofa.

"The last season, it's starting right now." He explained, turning the volume up on the telly that was already on. The show in question was one of those horrifically trashy ones. A silly little show you both got hooked on when you had the same cold, nowhere to go, and nothing else to watch. Now you needed to know what happened next.

The days weren't always like this. Between the years, you'd drifted apart from each other, floating back together for odd dinners and weekend getaways. It wasn't even like this when you started living together. But it seemed like in the blink of an eye you were spending more and more free time side by side, planning more than a few shared breakfasts and rainy afternoons.

Nights like these were expected by now, and you realized you'd be amiss if they ended anytime soon. George had called off dating some year or two ago, shaken by the Hollywood scene and the popularity contest he seemed to be in on, during films and even off set, in local shops he'd gotten recognized in. You'd forgotten that dating was a part of social life, far too preoccupied with your work and the plans you always had with George after hours to get to know anyone new.

It all made too much sense. So when the first commercial break kicked in and George passed the snacks he was holding over to you, as if he just remembered you were there, you spoke up.

"I'll do it."

You took the snacks, holding George’s eyes as his searched yours. You knew that he knew what you were agreeing too. Just when you thought he was about to speak, the show came back on and both of your focuses shifted entirely on the screen. You hadn't known what to expect... But the way everything seemed so vastly normal, sort of jarred you.

And for the next couple of days... neither of you talked about it at all. Sure you're busy with work and George had been fretting over a couple of important telephone interviews. But you thought surely he'd be more anxious to discuss logistics, or bring up the subject he invented, at all.

It wasn't until the next weekend, that the conversation picked up where it left off, again.

You'd spent the early Sunday morning roaming through the storefronts of an overpriced market. You ducked inside to relish the air-conditioned sales before dipping back out every few feet to admire the booths full of flowers, handcrafted gifts, and expensive decor. You'd buy absolutely everything here if you could.

You did have a mission. It was to pick up something to bring to dinner, a Sunday evening tradition with George's family. You'd been invited for as long as you could recall, and you'd never shown up empty-handed. Usually, flowers and desserts did just fine. But you were entirely too indecisive over what to purchase, this morning.

You'd become lost in a conversation with a woman who sold soaps and lotions, locally and expensively made. You rambled with her for so long that you'd lost sight of the person you'd come here with.

When you spun away from the lady selling soaps as new customers flocked closer to inspect her products, and you went on the hunt for George. You spotted him from behind, leaning in to speak with a vendor nearer inside. And just as you start to drift in his direction, he noticed you, too, through the crowd. And as the people part and you're nearly toe to toe, George doesn't greet you like usual.

There is no jab about where you'd been missing for so long, there isn't even a hello. Instead, you watch as George's smile grows mischievous, before bending at the knee.

Between his thumb and finger is a ring, just your unique style. It's from the booth he knelt in front of now, where hundreds of other delicate and novel jewels were displayed.

"What's all this then?" You laughed, standing in front of the guy you'd known longer than how to do simple maths.

"Marry me?" George asked, for the hundredth time, it seemed. You hadn't ever expected the question. But after this week, it came again at long last. You wondered if he'd ever bring it up again. But this time was different. This time, he smiled softly and held a real promise in his hand, looking up to you with a squint to block out the sun.

"I suppose I will." You grinned, answering quietly as George beamed up at you.

A couple of old ladies gasped from a couple of steps away, turning to watch on as George rose to his feet, grabbing your hand with both of his.

"Thank you, y/n. I cant wait." He said as if he'd been planning this for longer than he'd been pestering you about it.

"Why, we're practically already married." You laughed, mocking the statement he kept returning back to over the weeks. You watched as George slid the ring on your finger, with a pretty little design you couldn't have chosen better if you tried.

"Kiss her!" One of the elder spectators demanded like she was watching a wrestling match and coaxing on the fighters.

"I suppose I should," George remarked, mocking you, from moments ago. When he dipped down to place a teasing, chaste kiss on your lips,  the old ladies cheered. When you swatted his arm with a playfully furrowed brow, the old ladies grumbled, completely let down by the way you ruined the moment.

"Don't blow it, Mackay. Go pick one for yourself, now." You warned your friend who was already giving you a playful smirk as you pointed to the collection of rings he was meant to choose from.

He found the perfect band, with specks and flecks that matched your own. And he liked it, best of all. The two of you walked out of the shoppe with matching rings, in fits of laughter as you imagined all your friend's reactions.

To celebrate, you stopped at a stall selling frozen yogurt and ordered one big container; because it was extremely overpriced, and George didn't mind sharing, because according to him-

"We're official." George boasted, digging into the dessert as you walked back toward your neighborhood, enjoying the perfect morning weather.

"Not quite." You reasoned. "We've still gotta get the worst part over with."

"The worst part?"

"Throwing a faux wedding. Lying to our guests. Drawing far too much attention to ourselves. This feels so much more like a business interaction than an event. Not that I'm not glad to do business with you, of course." You laughed, stepping in time with your closest friend.

"We don't have to make it a whole big thing. I only asked to be married, not for a garish wedding. We could stick to signing a few papers and call it a day."

"Are you serious? I want you to be explicitly clear about what you want because whether we make it one or not, this is a big deal."

"I'm okay with it." George chuckled, forcing the frozen treat in your grasp for a turn. "Either way, we'll need some witnesses."

You grumbled, remembering he was right. You weren't ashamed to marry him. Only embarrassed at the slightest bit of misjudged attention, and worried that your decision would be mistaken for something it wasn't, by anyone you explained it too.

///

"I've forgotten to get something to bring! I've never not brought something to dinner." You panicked, feeling your pockets in a last-ditch effort to find something to keep the tradition alive. George let out a little chuckle as you stalled in his parent's driveway. You reprimanded him for not being just as panicked as you, but he just laughed harder as he reached for your hand.

"Well how about this time I bring you."

A new set of nerves danced on end when you remembered the ring on your finger. You'd walked into the entry of his parents lavish countryside home like clockwork, without a gift but with very big news. But even in the strange twist of events, the familiar setting and George's calming presence meant nothing was out of the ordinary. You were only making the decision to keep it that way. Surely everyone would understand.

As you waltzed further into the home, there was no grand greeting. His father was sat in the living room, focused on a game that flashed across the telly. He turned his smile to the pair of you just before shouting back at the team he was rooting for. George's mother was in the kitchen, and upon hearing the pair of you come in, started rambling about how dinner wasn't quite ready and how hectic her day was.

You and George stalled in the entry of the kitchen, sunbleached wallpaper and worn old furniture welcomed you. When George's mother turned from the stove with a huff and a hand on her hip, she glanced between you and her son and asked why you were both just standing there.

"Has something happened?" She asked in a grave low tone.

George glanced to you as if to ask you for permission to say something. Or maybe to warn you he was about to, anyway. You knew it was best to rip the bandaid off. So you gave the smallest nod and held your breath.

With a look across the way to his father clicking the telly off in perfect time, George made his announcement.

"We're getting married!"

Despite George's sound excitement and the glowing smile on his face, his mother let out a breath with a hand to her heart.

"Oh thank God, I thought someone had died." She explained, reaching back to turn a knob on the oven. Her relief was comical, and just as she spoke up, you realized all the excitement you'd expected, was stored away in the girl bounding down the stairs.

George's sister nearly tripped over herself as she squealed into the room. You might have wanted to plug your ears, but the girl bound your way, babbling incoherently, grabbing your hand to see the ring she expected to see there.

"I knew it. I can't believe this day has come but I knew it would." She gasped like she'd just become a billionaire, as if her very own dreams had just come true. George's father sauntered closer, glancing at your ring with a pleased hum, offering a simple and pleasant congratulations on his way to steal a bit of dessert before dinner.

"So now I can finally expect some grandchildren, yeah?" George's mother shuffled toward the cabinet full of wine, a place she only searched through when the very best and worst news hung heavy over your weekly dinner parties.

"I don't think that's possible." You choked out in a hurry, as George's sister dropped your hand, spinning to face her brother who was holding back wild laughter at your expense.

"You can always adopt, dear." His mother pushed, spinning back to the oven when it dinged. George was in the middle of explaining your plans to his sister, who was shaking her head in disapproval.

"No! No way will I stand by and watch you get married without throwing a party. Can't we talk about a big white wedding? Oh please." She turned to you with big pleading eyes.

"No, no no no. I can't do that. I'd pass out before saying I Do and what's the point of that? We're just gonna get it done." You pointed.

"I'll just see about that." She stormed deeper into the kitchen at the sound of her mother asking her for help finishing your traditional Sunday meal.

"I'll try and thwart her plans to decorate the register's office with rose petals." George brought his hands to your shoulders with a smile you shared, as he led you to the table. His parents argued over what bottle of wine to open, while his sister went on making plans of her own, just for you. Normalcy remained.

///

"You two cannot be serious." Dean sat slack-jawed across a high tabletop in your very favorite pub. He'd barely touched his scotch, but you and George were on your second round of drinks you'd been downing while waiting on your friend to show up to tell him the news.

"Who else would we ask, Dean? You're our third wheel." You laughed, leaning in to shout past the music overhead. You'd already told George's family and asked his sister to be one of your witnesses. The girl was more excited than you and George for your big day. Dean was the only other person you could imagine inviting along, whose presence wouldn't make you break out into a nervous sweat.

"No, I mean you can't be serious about getting married!" Dean laughed, keeping his wide, dark eyes boring into yours.

"We've already worked most everything out. Will you please come?" George leaned in closer, taking his turn at coaxing his best pal into being there for the two of you.

"Yeah, fine," Dean softened, his smile reaching his eyes. "But I'm bringing a cake. Not to celebrate, but to stress eat." The fellow raised his glass in a silly toast. You laughed as you clinked your glasses together, then swiftly ordered another round.

"Well I don't want to steal your thunder but I've been meaning to tell the both of you something..." Dean shifted in his seat as you and George settled into a quiet focus on your friend.

"I've been seeing someone. Only been out a couple of times, but I quite like her already" Dean explained, a blush creeping under his eyes. George encouraged his friend to tell everything about the girl he'd been dating. You urged Dean to bring her around some time, thrilled at the prospect of having a fourth wheel to join in your nights of fun.

As Dean went on telling the tale of his first date with his new girl, your drinks came.

"Won't you miss dating around?" Dean seemed to worry, after thanking the waiter for his drink.

"I haven't missed it this far." You shrugged, sipping your fresh cocktail all the while. As free as you'd been till now, the thought of getting to know someone new, letting your guard down, building trust, just thinking of it all exhausted you.

When George leaned over you to accept his new drink, he flashed the waiter a tipsy smile.

"We're getting married!" He chuckled, and you did too. As you two broke into drunken giggles, the waiter offered unimpressed congratulations. Dean slammed back his new order in time to ask for another; either to catch up with you and George or to deal with the pair of you, you couldn't tell.

───※ ·❆· ※───

taglist: @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @andux @imaginationandlove @velvetgoldsilver​ @queen-bunnyears @maria-josefin​ @dearevansamham​ @belledamsceno​ @nilletellsstories​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @loulouloueh​ @visionsofmelodrama

[perfeggso]

till the sun’s seeing through my eyes (yumark)

hitting for six

Yuta and Mark are next-door neighbors who grew up together, joined at the hip until Yuta went off to college. Due to their four-year age gap, Mark’s freshman year at the same school marks the halfway point of an unprecedented amount of time apart. Yuta is sure he can handle it, until Mark’s arrival home for spring break makes him wonder if the fondness he has for his friend might be blooming quite literally into something stronger. It’s up to him to handle the consequences.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Masterlist 

Characters: Yuta x Mark + NCT ensemble, other SM (and non-SM (?)) idols tbd, character families 

Genres: heavy angst, fluff, Hanahaki!AU, small town!AU, slight Witchcraft/Magic!AU, College!AU

Warnings: blood and gore, mentions of death, disease, vomiting, college-typical alcohol use, swearing  

Rating: T

Length: 8.3k

Yuta twirled the stick of rock candy he’d picked up at the market around between his lips, enjoying how it felt rough on his tongue and filled his mouth with the flavor of unadulterated sugar.  He checked his phone – no new messages.  

He tapped the toe of his sneakers against the linoleum floor of Kun’s coffeeshop and drummed his hands against the seafoam counter before pulling the candy from his lips with a pop and dunking it in his glass of mint tea.  All around him, the clinking, hissing, and chatter of a well-liked café filled his ears, and the arousing scent of coffee steam kept him a fidgety kind of alert.  On second thought, replace “alert” with “distracted.”   

“Did you hear me, Yuta?” Sicheng was saying, sitting at the table nearest the espresso machine and picking at a mini egg custard tart.  Yuta had not heard him, that much was evident.  

Yuta sighed with some effort, then made a fake sorry face.  “No – no, I apologize, babe, I didn’t.”    

Sicheng rolled his eyes.  “Whatever, it wasn’t important.”  He took a large bite of his tart, pale, buttery crumbs affixing to his lips.  

“Neko latte!” Kun interrupted, setting a white coffee cup in front of Yuta, the frothed milk on top of it shaped like a stubby-tailed cat that wiggled as the cup moved.  Yuta had to restrain himself from jiggling its foam butt into oblivion.  Kun returned a moment later with a plate. “Aaaand, let’s see, one slice of orange poppy seed bread.”  He dropped his smiling customer service face momentarily as he leaned in towards Yuta. “I thought you said you could handle calling out the orders.  That was my condition for letting you behind the counter, wasn’t it?” 

Yuta shrugged, repeating the order at double Kun’s original volume and smirking when a customer instantly shot out of her seat to come collect it.  Yuta downed his tea, burning his throat, and stuck the melting candy back into his mouth as she made her way over, pushing the now-empty cup forward as an encouragement to leave a tip in it, which the poor girl did.  Kun snatched the sticky bill from the cup and shook it out, disapproval contorting his face as he voiced his disappointment with a simple “nope.” 

“But Kun, I watched her earlier and she didn’t leave a tip when she ordered,” Yuta protested, making himself laugh until it was threatening to become a cough.  Dammit.  He pulled in a shaky breath.  “I’m only trying to help.” 

Kun pointed to the seating area.  “Out.” 

Yuta sulked his way to the chair opposite Sicheng, noting on his way that it was still pouring not insignificantly outside.  Yuta had gotten off work early because of the rain; the indoor soccer field had been reserved weeks earlier for the high school team.  Instead, he’d taken his kids to Yukhei’s gym for a short workout and then sent them home, choosing to wile away the rest of his time waiting for Mark with his buddies over a warm beverage.  

“Has he responded yet?” Sicheng asked.  

“No,” Yuta pouted.  He’d sent Mark a text nearly twenty-five minutes ago saying he was ahead of schedule and to come meet him at Kun’s shop.  “Ugh, wait, I’m sorry.  What were you saying earlier?  Nothing you say is unimportant, friend.” 

Sicheng looked like he wanted to smack Yuta and hug him at the same time.  Yuta was used to this.  

“I was only teasing you for missing my speech last night because no one cut you off,” Sicheng clarified, wiping his hands against each other once he’d finished eating.    

The memory of heaving in his bathroom in an attempt to extract whatever was obstructing his airways hit Yuta like an unforeseen ocean wave.  He nodded slowly, schooling his face to pretend to be irritated rather than scared.  He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but not even he knew what the real issue was, and it would undoubtedly get sorted, so why worry people?  

Yuta made his face into the disappointment emoji.  “Mm-hm,” he said.  “Well since you can only process my suffering as it pertains to you, maybe you’ll cut me off next time you have something important to say.”  

Sicheng raised his eyebrows.  “Someone’s feeling bitchy today,” he observed.  “This is because your boyfriend’s not texting back, isn’t it?” 

Yuta scoffed.  “Boyfriend,” he huffed in disbelief, but the word stirred a sickened feeling inside him.  He chose to ignore that.  “Yeah, it is,” he teased, “you jealous?” 

Sicheng shook his head.  “Not at all,” he said.  “It means you’ll let me be for a couple weeks.” 

Yuta laughed, his body once again nearly giving into coughing.  Like, choking on one’s dinner and needing the Heimlich kind of coughing.  Instead of letting that happen and calling attention to himself, he doused his throat in the contents of a glass of water.  

His breathing had been a bit better since he’d spoken with his mother that morning, but the problem wasn’t gone, and the raw coughing fits that started the day before were only growing more frequent.  A particularly violent one had gripped him during practice, scaring some of his kids enough that he’d run away to the bathroom to get it under control.  Thankfully, Yukhei had been in another room.  

*

Yuta came from a tradition of hedge witches, of which his mother was a shining example.  She ran an apothecary in town with his father; handling the medicine and potions side of it while he handled the business angle.  She was a skilled potion-maker and healer, and she had a keen sense of spiritual effects on the physical.  She was often able to gain insights that seemed so spot-on that Yuta had no choice but to believe whatever she told him to do.  

She’d encouraged her children to utilize tarot cards from an early age and endeavored ever since to teach them everything she knew.  Now and then, having someone so spiritually inclined as a parent could be burdensome, but it was times like these – when Yuta felt something strange and unwelcome stirring in him – that he felt he was lucky.  

When Yuta had gone to the main house that morning, he found his mother in the kitchen, making banana pancakes as his little sister looked over her advanced biology homework.  The high school still had a week left before spring break.  

“Hi Haruna,” Yuta greeted, shoving her face softly into her papers and receiving a well-earned glare.  

“Good morning, dingus.  You really shouldn’t be partying when you have work in the morning.” 

Haruna was a senior, less than a year younger than Mark (a fact which regularly escaped Yuta’s mind) and possessed an attitude problem – though one quite different from Yuta’s.  That morning, she wore a long, eggplant-purple frock dress with lots of heavy eyeliner and her hair in a helmet-like bob.  She might have been sartorially challenged and a bit of a bitch in Yuta’s view, but she was also his adorable little sister, and a veritable genius, he had to admit.  

Yuta went to the fridge and pulled out an apricot yogurt.  “I assure you I can handle myself,” he said, grabbing one of a collection of mismatched spoons and plopping it into his breakfast.  “The last thing I need is a seventeen-year-old lecturing me on alcohol.”  

Haruna tried to flick some of the syrup on her fork into her brother’s hair but missed.  “I can’t wait until Momoka comes home to visit,” she grumbled.  “Maybe you’ll listen to her.”   

Yuta’s mother gave her youngest and middle child a heavy look of disapproval as she flipped a pancake with a wet, resounding plop.  The action itself communicated as much authority as any scolding words could have.  Yuta just smiled sweetly, digging into his yogurt.  

“Yuta, dear,” she began, “can I interest you in some pancakes?” 

Yuta shook his head, feeling a little guilty, but he was rarely very hungry in the mornings.  “No, this is enough for me,” he said.  His mother smiled.  It was the same smile Haruna would flash when she was about to tease him.  

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way over here just to bother your studious sister and refuse my cooking, so there has to be something else, hm?  I’m right, aren’t I?” 

Yuta sighed.  As usual, she was indeed correct.  “As a matter of fact, there is something bothering me.” 

His mother listened attentively as he recounted the last day’s events: the asthma scare, trying to use the potion she’d taught him with a prayer, his concern over the reading he’d had that morning.  All the while, she finished shaping her stack of pancakes and leaned on her elbows, steam rising from the food and swirling in front of her paisley house dress, fluffy hair, purple kerchief, and concerned face.   

“It sounds to me like you’re having anxiety about change,” she offered once he’d finished.  “You always tend to have flare-ups during transition periods.” 

“Yeah,” Haruna cut in, spearing a chunk of pancake and narrowly escaping dropping it on her school papers, “remember when you were a freshman and you had a panic attack before coming home for winter break?  You said you could hardly breathe all night and that you didn’t think you wanted to come back.” 

Haruna seemed a little too casual with that difficult memory for Yuta’s liking, although she was right that he hadn’t forgotten.  He pinched his eyebrows together.  

“Is this a transition period though?” he asked.  Everything for him was more or less the same as it had been all year.  

His mother nodded.  “I’d say so.  Some of your younger friends are coming home, and Taeil will be going back to the city soon.  There are a lot of moving pieces in your life at the moment, dear.  I don’t think it's at all strange that you’re feeling off and maybe hiding some things from yourself.” 

“Alternately,” quipped Haruna as their mother went to fetch a cloudy, pastel purple concoction she had sitting in a beaker by the window, “you’re just a drama queen.” 

Yuta started.  “Wanna get your butt kicked by a college athlete?” he threatened.  Haruna stuck her tongue out at him. 

“You mean former intramural college athlete?” 

“That’s enough!” 

Yuta and Haruna both turned to face their mother.  She looked like her hair would be suspended in exasperation if she were in a Ghibli Movie.  Yuta knew that meant it was time to Shut Up.  Oops.  

She sighed, running her hands over the lip of the beaker in her hand and muttering to herself to calm down.  Then, she slid it forward to her son.  

“Bring this to work with you, Yuta,” she advised, voice still stern.  “I made it fresh this morning for the shop, but I think you could use it.  It has lavender, mint, chamomile, soy oil, salts, and I’ve charged it with moon water.  It’s something I’ve been messing around with for dealing with anxiety and stress during liminal periods in life.”  Yuta nodded, listening attentively and twirling the little vial in between his fingers.  She went on.  “Then later whenever you have time, I want you to sit alone with your confusion for a little while.  I think that might give you more insight into what is driving this spiritually and subconsciously.  Try not to smother it, whatever it is.”  

Of course his mom’s advice was essentially “meditate.” Why had he even bothered to ask? He nodded one more time, subdued, and dropped the vial of pale liquid into his pocket.  He would put it into a water bottle and bring it along.  

Yuta finished his yogurt and chucked the container into the recycling.  “Thank you, Mom,” he said, snagging a pancake on his way out of the kitchen just to win a little more of her favor.  “And have a good day, Haruna.” 

“You too, dingus.” 

“Tell me if you’re feeling better tonight!” his mother called after him, finishing off with a mild threat: “And I’ll be able to tell if you didn’t follow my directions!” 

*

Yuta sighed for what felt like the eightieth time all day, watching the café’s glass door from over Sicheng’s shoulder for any signs of Mark.  He didn’t know how to summon people or things, but he half-imagined that he did, concentrating so hard on the door that it was making his eyes cross.  And in a matter of seconds, it worked (or, at least, the universe gave the illusion of it working).  

Mark rushed into the coffeeshop, looking harried and tugging a cumbersome guitar case along with him which he tried desperately to protect with a too-small umbrella.  The image put Yuta at attention, smiling.  

“I’m so sorry!” Mark spluttered as he rushed through the door.  “I was practicing, and I didn’t check my phone!” 

“Whoa there,” Kun warned from behind the counter.  “This does not need to be advertised to my entire clientele.” 

Mark shook out his umbrella and shoved it into the holder in the entryway, checking with Yuta that they planned on staying for at least a little while and apologizing sheepishly to Kun.  

He sat down at the table with Yuta and Sicheng as Yuta grinned at him.  

“Don’t be sorry, Markie-boy,” Yuta said, poking Mark in the side and making him almost giggle his way out of his chair.  As the chair tipped and then slingshotted violently back to its starting position from Mark regaining his balance, it clattered so loudly that it attracted more concerned looks than Mark had when he’d busted through the door.  Yuta hardly seemed to register this as he gushed about how devoted his friend was to his craft that he would haul his equipment through a rainstorm.  Kun rolled his eyes and huffed in defeat at yet another disruption. 

“Mark, the usual?” he asked, and Mark nodded after nervously confirming Yuta didn’t have other plans for them to go eat somewhere.  

Only then did he allow himself to settle in, peeling off his damp jacket and balancing his guitar case against the side of his chair.  

“Did you carry that all the way here?” Sicheng asked, and Yuta shot him an obvious look.  

“Of course he did,” he replied for his friend, and Sicheng glared at him.  “The kid can’t drive, after all.  Just like you.” 

Mark nodded in confirmation as Kun set a mug of hot chocolate and a cream cheese bagel in front of him.  “I love being referred to as ‘the kid’ as if I’m not present,” he snarked.  “Also, thanks, Kun.” 

“Sure thing.” 

Yuta crunched absently at the end of his rock candy.  “Aw, don’t go trying to make me feel bad when you forced me to wait for thirty-five minutes and didn’t even tell me you were on your way.  It’s like you want to keep me in constant suspense with your little surprises.”  Mark scowled, but his mouth was too stuffed with bagel to form a retort, so Yuta went on.  “Anyway, you got a guitar in there?” 

Mark swallowed.  “What do you think?” 

“I think we’re just impressed you lugged it all the way here,” Sicheng clarified, trying to clear the air of Yuta’s usual bitchiness.  “Surely, you brought it for a reason.” 

Mark clapped his hands against each other to rid them of crumbs, body going taut with excitement.  

“Actually yes!” he mouthed around his food.  “I did have a reason.  I wanted to show off what I’ve been practicing!”

“Oooooh!” Yuta buzzed, applauding preemptively at hyper-speed.  “You might want to check with the stickler in charge though,” he warned, stage whispering and indicating towards Kun.  The subject of the jest frowned at his table of friends.  

“I can hear you, Yuta,” he said, “and it’s fine.  Just give me a minute to turn the speakers off.” 

Soon enough, Mark had extracted his guitar from its case and had it over his knee, strumming experimentally to warm up and drawing the attention of most of the customers behind him.

“Don’t look now, Mark,” Sicheng began.  “But it looks like you’ve roped yourself into a little concert.”

“A little what now?” he asked, immediately going against the advice he’d just received and turning around to meet the gazes of at least fifteen people he only marginally knew.  “Oh, uh, okay.  This is fine.” 

Yuta smiled to himself as he watched his friend adjust his fingers over the metal strings and clear his throat, red face betraying that he might not, in fact, be fine.

Pretty soon though, he was finger-picking his way through the intro to Frank Ocean’s “Cayendo.”  Once Mark started singing, Yuta found himself lulled into an admiring trance at the smooth sweetness of Mark’s voice.  Mark was usually shy about singing solo, but he’d been working on it and Yuta loved that he had gained some confidence.  The fact that the song was in a language Yuta couldn’t understand served even further to pull him under its calm spell.  

He pretended to swoon at the little performance, rolling his eyes around and fanning himself theatrically.  “Ooh, Markie, take me now,” he joked, just loud enough for his table to hear and no one else.  Mark’s ears went red and he struggled to sing through a giggle.  

Right in the middle of the song though, Mark sang a stanza that Yuta did understand.  It ended with a melancholy plea of love:

When I still really, really love you, like I do

If you won't, then I will

If you can't, then I will

Is it love to keep it from you?

It was such a sad sentiment.  Yuta thought that if he were a more sentimental person, and under different circumstances, he would have started to cry.  Though, maybe he wasn’t as unsentimental as he thought he was… 

Mark transitioned back to singing in Spanish and Yuta took the moment to lose himself less in his friend’s voice and more in the space around them: the chatter of impressed coffee-sippers, the whirring of the espresso machine, the soft and appreciative expressions on his friends’ faces.  It was almost as sweet as the leftover sugar which coated the inside of his mouth – almost sweet enough for him to forget that some kind of repression within him was causing him vascular stress.  Almost; almost.  

Mark plucked the last note of the song and the café broke into a pitter-patter of applause which echoed the pounding of rain outside, and in that moment, as if to remind him of the tenuousness of his almosts, Yuta found himself hurled into the most intense pain he’d felt in the last twenty-four hours.  

He bent himself over and started retching into a napkin.  It was the same sensation he’d gotten the night before at the party, when he’d locked himself in the bathroom and coughed himself raw into the white sink, trying to force something out that just wouldn’t budge.  He felt like he had a copper wire weaving through his muscles, and someone was sending shocks of electricity through it.

Sicheng and Mark stared at him in concern and Sicheng pushed a glass of water his way.  He choked out his thanks before downing it in one go, once again taking note of the clump of – something – which drifted back down along with the liquid.  By the time he had himself back under control, both his friends were posing some variation on the same ‘you okay?’ question.  

“Yeah, yeah,” he lied.  “Just aspirated some very sharp candy.” 

Sicheng winced.  “Ouch,” he said.  “At least you had the courtesy to wait until Mark was finished.” 

Yuta stuck his tongue out, but the way his friend went so casually back to teasing him actually made him feel a little better.  

“I know the Heimlich maneuver!” Mark said, a stupidly proud grin crossing his face as he set his guitar back into its case and puffed his chest out involuntarily.  “So I could have saved you if it came to that.” 

Yuta smiled weakly.  “That’s very reassuring, Mark.”

“NBD.”  Yuta groaned, the sharp pain from only moments ago leaving him just as quickly as it had come.  He cringed.  Had Mark really just said “NBD?” Whatever.  Mark continued.  

“Seriously though, what did you guys think?” 

“It was really good,” Sicheng said, “and I would say, a glowing testament to your four years of high school Spanish.”  

Mark snickered.  “What about you, Yutaaa?” 

“Well if you couldn’t tell by the way I reacted at the beginning, I loved it!  Really, like your voice just keeps getting better and better.”

Mark placed a hand over his heart, meaning to indicate that Yuta’s compliment had touched him.  

“Aren’t you not supposed to be using instruments though?” Sicheng chimed.  “I mean, considering you’re an a cappella person?”  

Mark rolled his eyes.  “Very funny,” he said.  “But thanks, guys.  I think I might play it live sometime on the Serotonin Hour.”  That was the name of the radio show Johnny had left to him upon graduation.  

“You know,” Yuta began, rapping his fingers against the table, “when Johnny willed his time slot to you, I don’t think he expected you’d use it for such self-serving purposes.”     

Mark rolled his eyes even farther into his head this time.  “It’s an hour where I impose my music taste on the small group of people who actually bother to tune in.  What could be more self-serving?” 

Yuta clicked his tongue.  Mark had a point.  

“Anyway,” said Mark, hopping to his feet, “what do you want to do, Yuta?” 

*** 

Since it was raining out, they decided they would have to stay mostly indoors, so they resolved to wander around the market hall until they came up with a more exciting activity, Yuta letting Mark store his guitar in the trunk of his car while they perused.  Sicheng was invited along too, but he had a dance class to run in half an hour and needed to review his lesson plan ahead of time, so it was just the two of them.   

Well, it was just the two of them until they got to the Jung family farmstand at the end of the long, warehouse-like building.  Jaehyun sat behind it, writing something into a notebook and looking so bored that his face was practically melting into the hand supporting it.   

“Oh, thank god,” he said when he saw his friends approaching.  “It’s been such a slow day I was ready to choke myself out just to have something to do.” 

“Ooh, kinky,” Yuta guffawed at his friend as Mark nodded slowly.  

“Nice to see you too, man,” Mark said.  

“Want anything?” 

Yuta and Mark surveyed their options: a selection of dairy products, meat, and eggs in a set of coolers, and a table covered in artichokes, celery, pears, asparagus, broccoli, brussels sprouts, cabbages, and a veritable rainbow of root vegetables.  As usual, the Jung family farm’s output looked delicious.  Maybe Yuta would get something for his parents to put in tonight’s dinner.  He grabbed a bundle of radishes by the leaves and shoved them at his friend with a grin.  

Mark, on the other hand, knew immediately what he would go for.  

“And, uh, can I get a banana milk?” 

Jaehyun nodded as Yuta gave his younger friend his best side-eye.  

“You just drank a giant hot chocolate.  Haven’t you had enough dairy for one day?” 

Mark pouted, fishing for his wallet, and Yuta couldn’t help but smile at the way Mark’s eyes looked like shiny tea saucers.  He could be devilishly cute sometimes.  Cute enough to make Yuta want to buy shit for him, which he did, paying for the radishes and the milk before Mark even had the opportunity to complain.  

“Drink up!”

Mark glared.  “Fine.  I’ll just sneak-buy you something next time.” 

Yuta wobbled his head like an anime heroine as he spoke.  “Oh, so I’ll get a next time?  Man, this date is going so well!” he said, and Mark’s ears flushed for the second time in thirty minutes.  A niggling voice in the back of Yuta’s head told him he wanted to see Mark like that more often.  He brushed that idea away, not quite knowing how to process it.    

“Whatever,” Mark mumbled as Jaehyun looked on in his usual casual detachment.  Yuta turned his attention back to him.  

“By the way, Jae, where are your parents?  Can’t they come relieve you of your existential dread?” 

Jaehyun blew a puff of air at his bangs.  “I wish,” he responded.  “They’re out of town for the weekend though, so I’m left to suffer alone.  Oh – which reminds me!  Can you go check on Sugarfoot and Lacey for me?  They probably need their water troughs refilled right about now.  And besides, I’m sure they miss Mark.” 

Yuta and Mark agreed easily.  Everyone loved those horses, even if Sugarfoot could be a pain in the ass.  When Yuta was a teenager, she had apparently decided he’d lived long enough, because she tried to buck him off until Yuta was pretty sure he’d suffered acute whiplash.  Besides Jaehyun, Johnny was the only person she seemed to tolerate (and tolerate simply meant she was a bitch to him rather than straight-up murderous), but alas, Johnny wasn’t around.  

“Perfect,” Jaehyun said.  “I’d do it myself, but everyone here knows my parents and they’d definitely somehow manage to tell them I’d abandoned my post.  You know where the keys to the stable are and everything, right?” 

“Yup!” 

And with that, Yuta and Mark left Jaehyun to return to pondering auto-asphyxiation. 

It had stopped raining outside, and the sky was in the process of clearing from a mournful grey to a clear periwinkle, like a windshield-wiper was slowly swiping across it to rid it of clouds.  They ran into Taeil on the way to Yuta’s car, in the middle of walking five dogs of varying sizes and breeds.   

Naturally, Mark became immediately preoccupied by the tangle of fur attached tenuously to Taeil’s wrist by a set of leashes.  The cute scene made Yuta’s chest go tight with fondness.   

Yuta told Taeil they’d missed him at the party the night before as Mark rolled around on the wet ground, getting his face smothered by a particularly friendly Chow Chow and laughing like his lungs were about to burst out of his chest.    

“I know, I’m sorry!” Taeil said, trying not to let himself get tugged around.  “It was just last minute and I’d already been roped into cooking for my family, and we had friends over – bad timing.” 

Yuta waved him off.  “Don’t worry, I’ll only hold it against you forever.  But when do you go back to the city?” 

“Next week,” Taeil replied, leaning down awkwardly to save Mark from five rough tongues.  Taeil didn’t have a dog himself (although he did have a goose in his backyard, a fact which Yuta was never not perplexed by) but his family owned the local pet shop and he always had dog-walker duty when he was home.  It was also how he made money when he was in high school.  “We should definitely get together before I go back though!” Taeil continued.  “You guys can help me make this pasta dish I’ve been wanting to try.  Sound good Mark?” 

Mark got up, brushing the wet dirt off his backside.  “What?  Oh yeah, for sure!  I’m always down to eat – and to see you, Taeil.  I didn’t forget about you.” 

Taeil looked dryly at his younger friend. “Yeah, of course.  But listen, Mark, it’s really good luck we’re home at the same time.  I need you to tell me all about how the Aca-Fellas are doing.”  Mark nodded shyly.  Taeil had been the star of the a cappella group at his college, so he’d had plenty of run-ins with the Fellas at competitions.  His own superiority at singing was something it was at times difficult to get him to shut up about.  Taeil continued:

“Anyway, I should be going.  These guys are getting squirrely, and I don’t want them to do their business right here.  I’ll see you two around, I guess.  Enjoy the rest of your date!”

Hey, Yuta thought, that’s my joke.  Somehow it made him feel weird to hear someone else use it.  

*** 

They were at Jaehyun’s stables after a short drive, and they found the keys easily.  Mark scratched lovingly at Lacey’s chin as Yuta filled the troughs with water.  Then, they decided it was as good a time as any to see if Johnny was free to FaceTime.  He was.  

“Heyoooo,” Johnny greeted once his pixelated face flashed onto Yuta’s phone.  Yuta laughed.  His friend looked happy and healthy.  “Oh what? You have Mark with you?  Sweet!” 

They caught up on Johnny’s life for a few minutes; he was having a great time on his own, but he missed everyone and couldn’t wait to come home in the summer.  

“Hurry home,” Yuta joked, getting up from the bail of hay he’d been sitting on because Sugarfoot was cribbing on the door to her stable.  “I think Taeyong is wilting without you here.” 

Johnny chuckled indulgently.  “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”  He gasped and his image froze in the exaggerated reaction face he’d pulled, making Mark squeak with laughter.  “Is that my favorite girlie?” came his crackling voice.  

Yuta held the phone up to Sugarfoot, nudging her head a bit to get her to detach her teeth from the wood.  “Sure is.” 

Johnny asked if Jaehyun was there, so Yuta informed him on their friend’s predicament.  Then Johnny addressed Mark, telling him he should try braiding Sugarfoot’s dark mane – he’d found she had come to enjoy it.  Mark, being the least experienced with Jaehyun’s bitch of a mare, immediately fell for it and tried, causing Sugarfoot to squeal and jerk her neck away from his touch.  He fell back on his butt in surprise and Johnny cackled through Yuta’s phone speaker.  

“Aw, I see college hasn’t made you less gullible, Markie-boy.” 

“It most certainly has not,” Yuta confirmed, and Mark attempted a glare, but it only ended up looking like what he’d done when Johnny tried to teach him how to flirt that one time.  

Johnny continued.  “Anyway, Mark how are you really?  I don’t care about this old hag; Yuta, give the phone to Mark.”

Yuta handed over the phone with a casual threat of murder.  

Mark was doing well.  Johnny asked if his a cappella group had let him rap yet.  Mark rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, leaning against the stable door right next to Lacey.  

“Naw, not yet,” he said.  “Just beatboxing for now.  Eventually...” 

Johnny shrugged.  “It’s okay.  When you’re a senior you can run the group and do whatever the hell you want.  And, when they see how good you are, that’ll really show ’em.” 

Yuta watched the conversation unfold, reveling in the warm feeling he got from watching some of his favorite people interact.  

“Are you doing the Serotonin Hour justice, by the way?” Johnny asked.  “Playing that good shit?” 

Mark fumbled around a response so Yuta cut in, yelling from off-screen.  “He’s great, Johnny!  Wish you were here to tune in because I think he might be surpassing you in quality already.” 

Yuta heard Johnny scoff as Mark looked embarrassed.  “Impossible!”  Yuta leaned in next to Mark and Johnny asked about his own parents.    

Yuta frowned.  “Can’t you just call them and ask how they’re doing?” 

“I did! I do!” Johnny said, exasperated.  “I wanted to hear it from a third party though, otherwise all they tell me is ‘we’re good, John, we’re good.  Everything’s just fine.’  Know what I mean?” 

Mark answered.  Mr. and Mrs. Seo were doing just as well as they let on to their son, as far as he could tell.  This seemed to satisfy him.    

Johnny had to go soon after this, so Yuta and Mark took the opportunity to get back in Yuta’s car and drive to his house, where brand new purple crocuses had pushed through the dirt in the front yard.    

Yuta led Mark straight to his loft when they arrived, happy to finally have some actual alone time with his friend.  He didn’t know where this territorial streak was coming from.  He usually did it as a joke – especially with Mark and Sicheng – but all of a sudden, he didn’t feel like he was joking anymore.  He shrugged it off mentally.  It probably had something to do with his repression, he figured, realizing he hadn’t followed all his mother’s instructions yet.  Oh well, the meditation could wait.  

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” he offered.  “We can hang out all day that way, until you’re absolutely fed up with me.” 

Mark giggled as they traipsed through the wet grass, passing the fresh crocuses.  

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” Mark agreed.  “I’ll text my parents and ask them.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to,” Yuta remarked, pointing straight ahead to where Mr. Lee stood in his driveway, getting ready to go out.  “Mr. Lee!”

Mark’s dad turned around, startled for a moment, before waving.  

“Your son is eating dinner over here!”  Yuta yelled.  “We’ll take good care of him!”

Mark laughed nervously at Yuta’s side as his dad consented.  Yuta had to admit that his life was a little emptier when Mark’s ridiculous giggle-fits weren’t a daily feature.  

Back in Yuta’s room, Mark hooked his phone up to Yuta’s Bluetooth speaker and played one of his most recent DJ set playlists while Yuta sat at his vanity and yanked a radish from the bunch he’d bought earlier from Jaehyun, biting off a chunk.  It tasted watery and sharp.

“What are you doing?” Mark protested.  “I thought those were for your parents.”

“I’m only taste-testing,” Yuta defended, mouth full of radish.  “Calm down.”  He poised the other half of the radish as if he were about to overhand chuck it in Mark’s direction.  That was, in fact, what he planned to do.  “Open up.” 

Mark’s eyes went wide.  “But it has your spit on it!” 

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.” 

Mark nodded in acquiescence, opening his mouth for a split second before thinking of something else to worry about. 

“This seems dangerous though, like what if I choke on it?” 

“Then that’s really too bad because I do not know the Heimlich,” Yuta snarked.  “Try not to.” 

Mark opened his mouth again and Yuta threw the radish in an arc the few feet between them.   Mark shuffled a little to align his mouth and caught the radish, doing a little dance of victory when he realized he’d succeeded.  

“Yoooooo!” he yelled around his mouthful.  

Yuta clapped, he remarked to himself, like a cheerleader congratulating his boyfriend. Whatever.  He wasn’t above that.  

“That’s what I call synchronicity!” he said.    

Then, Yuta decided to experiment with combinations of the new earrings he’d bought recently while he and Mark talked.  They ended up mostly reminiscing about the stupid hijinks they’d gotten themselves into over the years: the time they got drunk and went skinny-dipping in the bioluminescence despite a slew of recent shark sightings (Mark kept trying to drift off into the mist and when they heard a loud splash near them in the water, Yuta asked Mark if he’d retrieve his dick if it got bitten off.  “Is that something you would want me to do?” Mark had responded); the time they went cliff-diving as a group and somehow Yuta managed to injure himself while stumbling over rocks to take a picture and then tried to tell everyone who hadn’t been there that he’d hurt himself jumping into the water so he wouldn’t sound like an idiot; the time Mark tried weed for the first time and became convinced he was suffering an aneurysm, begging Yuta to make him a potion for it; all the times Yuta and Mark travelled to dance competitions together as kids and shared hotel rooms, planning their entire futures as they waited to get sleepy.  They had promised to always have houses next to each other, and that their families and spouses would be forever close.   

Yuta sometimes found that, with long-time friends he didn’t get to see as often as he would have liked, it was easier to reminisce than to create new, whole memories.  It had nothing to do with Mark’s value as a friend, and they still came away from every summer with plenty of additional experiences and stories, but Yuta hated the feeling he sometimes got of their rhythm being off during the shorter breaks.  He worried their friendship would calcify into something past tense.  But then again, he figured, a deep understanding like what he and Mark shared didn’t need constant updates.  

Being with Mark sometimes took him back to being eighteen – right before he left for college – and in a way he liked that as much as he liked his friend.  He just got an occasional sinking feeling that they were missing each other’s landmarks.  It was irrational, but he couldn’t deny it. 

Mark had moved on to updates about his friend group as Yuta held a thin and dangly silver earring against his lobe.  Mark nodded in approval and Yuta worked to stifle a sudden bout of coughing.  Ah yes.  There it is. 

Later, at the dinner table, Yuta hardly got a word in edgewise with his parents and sister grilling Mark on how his first year was wrapping up: was his friend group holding up?  Yup.  Did he like his second semester classes?  He did.  Was he still sure he wanted to pursue a conservation major?  Yes.  Did he know who he’d room with the next year?  He was going to try to room with his friend Yeri, but they had to sign a consent form for co-ed housing first.  When was his next a cappella performance?  The big one was in late April.  Did he have a significant other?   

Yuta almost hacked up a spoonful of his root vegetable soup before glaring at his mom, the source of that query.  

“Aish, why does everyone wanna know that?” asked Mark, setting his spoon down for a second.  “Sorry, it’s just really funny to me.  No, I don’t.” 

Yuta looked across the table to his mother and caught her sending an irritated look right back at him.  He figured it was probably related to the vague threat she’d made earlier that she would know if he didn’t follow all her advice by the time he got home in the evening.  

Once they’d finished eating, the boys helped wash the dishes and Mrs. Nakamoto gifted Mark a little vial of her signature lucky potion for him to use during finals.  

“Bye, little dingus,” Haruna called to Mark as he and Yuta were on their way out for a quick post-prandial stroll.  Yuta turned around. 

“Don’t talk to your elder that way!”  She rolled her eyes.    

Outside, it was fully dark, and a distinct late-winter chill tinged the air enough that Yuta had to burrow his chin into the collar of his bomber jacket.  Rather than the chatter of crickets they would have heard at that hour during summertime, the air sung with the hush of breeze rustling the pines and the distant break of ocean waves.  Yuta thought bittersweetly about how the next time he’d see Mark for an extended time, the crickets would be back.  

“Sorry for all the prying,” Yuta grumbled as the two made their way to the little pedestrian suspension bridge over the river on the edge of town.  The river led to the ocean eventually, but inland, it felt thin and closed-off all the same.  This bridge passing over it was one of Yuta and Mark’s favorite spots to sit and chat late at night without anyone hearing.  In fact, it was that type of spot for most of the town’s young residents.  

“Don’t be,” Mark said jovially, kicking his feet leisurely as he walked.  “I expect it at this point.  Bet you remember what that’s like.” 

Yuta nodded.  He did.     

“You know,” Mark began, “it’s actually sorta calming to get the same questions over and over again.  Cuz like, for some reason I keep getting really stressed out when I come home.  I don’t know why…It’s kind of annoying.”  

Yuta pointed at Mark in recognition as he chimed in.  “No – I know exactly what you mean.  I used to get that too.  Remember when I had that panic attack?” 

Mark nodded.  “Oooh yeah, man, I do.  You were calling me at like two in the morning and you sounded like you were crying.  I had no idea what you were on about.  But I guess now I understand more.”  

Yuta smiled to himself as the sound of the river added its own particular hush to the mix of natural noises.  He tried not to take too much comfort in the idea that his friend was now suffering the same way he had.  At least it was a pretty privileged form of suffering…

Yuta took a deep breath, looking up and trying to find stars in the hazy dark sky.  

“My mom calls it liminality.  She says it's natural to feel spiritually detached at times of transition.  It’s like your identity is thrown into flux and it can be hard to balance your competing selves all at once.  You’ve got your independent college self and my little Markie boy who lives with his parents and can’t drive.”  At this, Yuta grabbed Mark and tried to give him a noogie.  “I think that’s what’s stressing you out. Might do you some good to recognize it and hear it verbalized.”    

Mark laughed.  They were approaching the entrance to the bridge.  “I guess that makes sense.  I – wait.” 

Yuta took a second to register that Mark had cut himself off and stopped walking.  He was staring into the distance towards the bridge, so Yuta followed his gaze.  He blinked a few times in the dark, but once his vision focused, he noticed what Mark had been looking at: a dark lump in the center of the suspended walkway.  It seemed to be moving – writhing almost – and Mark placed a finger over his mouth to indicate they should be silent.  Little groans and giggles emanated from the wiggly lump over the rush of the water.  It was a person – no – people.    

Yuta felt himself about to start laughing, and he didn’t want to disrupt whatever moment was going on in front of them, so he grabbed Mark’s arm and hauled him away, running back towards their houses and cracking up the minute they thought they were out of earshot.  

Mark tried to catch his breath from all the exertion.  “Were, were they –” 

“Fucking?” Yuta finished for him.  “Yeah, I think so.” 

Mark leaned over his knees.  It was the same position Yuta had used several times in the last day to combat his lung issue.  “Shit, man,” he said.  “I was not expecting that.” 

Yuta shook his head in disbelief.  “Me neither.  Here; on that note, let’s get you home. The Lees deserve their son back.” 

“Sounds good.  That’s enough excitement for one night.” 

***

Yuta tiptoed back into the kitchen before going to the barn to sleep, opening the fridge to sneak another few bites of the raspberry meringue cake his mom had bought on a whim from the Seos while shopping for dinner.   

Her voice in the dark startled him so badly that he jolted against the refrigerator shelving, rattling a whole row of bottled drinks and sauces and causing a racket.

“Holy shit, mom, you’re going to kill me,” he said, holding a hand against his chest like a 19th century gentlewoman.  

“Come to the living room with me, Yuta,” she said, bypassing his griping.  

Yuta gulped, following his mother’s directions until he was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her lounge chair.  

“Didn’t I tell you I’d notice if you blew off my instructions?” she asked, sipping from a cup of tea.  It smelled like chamomile and it was making Yuta sleepy.  

“I know,” he said, “but I was with Mark all day and I didn’t want it to be weird for him while I like, went off into a corner to ruminate on my inner demons or whatever.  I was still gonna do it.  Also, I drank the potion you gave me.” 

“I understand Yuta,” she said, cutting him off before he could spew any more excuses, “but you’re going to do it right now.  I want you to feel better.” 

“I already do feel a little better,” Yuta said, though he knew he was lying.  His mom knew it too, because she gave him a skeptical sideways glance.

“You looked like you were holding in a coughing spell all through dinner,” she informed him.  Had he?  Yikes… “So, close your eyes.” 

Yuta knew how this was going to go, but still, he let his mom lead him through breathing and visualization, focusing on tracking and changing the color and temperature of his internal energy as it passed through each of his limbs, his gut, hit neck and shoulders, his head, and finally, to his lungs.  He tried to pull air in until it touched the extremity of them, boundaries of his body going fuzzy in concentration, but it was difficult for him; shaky almost.  

His mother’s voice floated into his consciousness, instructing him to imagine the hollow of his mind and let thoughts begin to trickle in without obstruction; to let them come and go without judgement. 

He thought of what Mark had been saying on their walk and how it resonated with his own experiences, how it frustrated him that he could never quite recreate the comfort of his and Mark’s dynamic when he visited him at school and they were with all Mark’s first year friends (at least Kun and Jaehyun were around at times, but still).  He thought about how weird it felt for all his friends to be scattered around.  Mostly though, he thought about the strange burning tightness that had been threatening to cut off his air supply over the last day whenever he dwelled too much on thoughts of his best friend, on observing him, on feeling lucky to know him.  

Next thing he knew, he was coughing aggressively again, dragging in empty breaths whenever his throat gave him a break from its violent convulsing.  The metal wires felt like they’d made their way into his heart.  Neither his breathing nor his coughing was satisfactory though; there was still something stuck.  What on earth was wrong with him? 

Yuta latched back onto the sound of his mother’s voice as he calmed down and opened his eyes.  She knelt next to him on the floor, rubbing over his back and knitting her brows in concern.    

“Oh darling,” she cooed.  “Have some tea.”  He drank gladly, but this time the obstruction inside him stayed right where it was halfway down his windpipe.  “It’s just as I thought.  Something is blocking you off from your spiritual self.” 

Yuta blinked some tears of exertion from his eyes, smirking as he returned somewhat to himself.  

“You sure it’s not just my sarcasm?” he joked, and his mom scowled.  

“Well, that’s certainly not helping,” she said.  She kissed his forehead and pulled away to find her tarot deck.  “But I am proud that you took that seriously.  It obviously stirred something.  Let me do a quick reading for you and then we can both get to bed.” 

Yuta waited as she set up the deck and drew a six of cups, reversed.  He sighed.  Intense nostalgia; feeling caught in the past or with a past self.  That much was obvious.  

Yuta’s mother smiled at him softly.  “Whatever this is, it’s holding you hostage in memories and longing.”  He nodded, remembering his earlier conversation with Mark where they couldn’t seem to stop dwelling on an idealized highlight reel of teenage shenanigans.  Right.  “Do you want to talk about it now?” 

“Not really.”  Yuta yawned.  He didn’t know if it was because he was actually tired or because he wanted this to wrap up.  

Mrs. Nakamoto started packing her cards back up.  “That’s alright.  You should get some sleep anyway.  Good night, dear.” 

“G’night.” 

***  

Yuta gave back into coughing the minute he’d crossed the threshold to his room.  He ran to the small trashcan next to his desk, still full of bottles from the night before, and heaved into it so hard he thought his eyes might pop out.  Finally though, he had a twinge of relief when the thing that had been caught in his airway materialized on his tongue and his trachea cleared fully for the first time all day.  He reached into his mouth and plucked out the offending object, holding it between his fingers over the trash.  It was long and yellow and smooth, shaped like the wooden paddles Donghyuck’s ice cream shop gives out for testers.  

A horrifying thought crossed Yuta’s mind as he rolled the delicate yellow petal softly between his fingers, watching it disintegrate under his touch and the acid of his saliva.  He turned to the bouquet on the coffee table to his left, shivering as he caught a glimpse of the sunny yellow rays of petals adorning each of the three baby sunflowers in the vase.  His heart dropped into his feet.  

Of course.  

[saint-eridell]

TdMo fluff/smut drabble

Oh boy. First post on the new blog.

This is loosely based on the yakuza AU @the-angriestpineapple​, @deadassqueeraf​ and I have been writing. It’ll definitely get expanded at some point, but someone on our main server decided to poke my brain and this fell out. Unbeta’d, we die like men (which means it’ll take forever to get to my AO3, womp womp).

4.1k; Yakuza AU. Shouto and Momo are married, all characters are in their mid-twenties. Story building, lots of fluff, smut toward the end. No major content warnings.

---

It was fairly common for Shouto to wake up for work incredibly early in the morning. His office didn’t technically open until eight, but he was sometimes out the front door at least an hour and a half before that to account for surprise traffic and coffee lines. The unusual part was Shouto waking up incredibly early for two, nearly three weeks straight: every morning, seven days a week, the same chime playing before the sun had even remotely touched the bedroom curtains.

By the end of the third week Momo’s patience had worn down to a wispy sliver pulled taught as a piano string. She’d anticipated her own irritation upon going to sleep the night prior, but hearing Shouto’s alarm go off just before five in the morning pulled what remained of her patience until it snapped with a force that surprised her even in her post-sleep delirium. Her eyelids flew open as she felt Shouto roll over behind her, grunting while he fumbled for his phone to turn off the alarm. She didn’t move with him or indicate she was awake, instead letting him sit up and stretch himself awake in silence as she stared at the dark wall across from her side of the bed.

The mattress dipped soundlessly behind her as Shouto leaned into her to press a tender peck to her cheek, her eyes only barely closing before he leaned into view of her features. He hovered for a moment before a warm fingertip brushed a lock of dark hair off her temple and behind her ear. “I love you,” he whispered, soft and reverent like he never was anywhere else, before sliding away with practiced grace, leaving Momo alone in the bed as he stumped off to take a shower and ready himself for the day.

She grinned into her pillow. Despite the obtuse block of wood that Shouto could be, his tender side was something Momo would never be over and she was a terribly lucky woman for having to all to herself. She loved him beyond the point of finding words to describe it.

Once Shouto left the bedroom, she slowly lurched out of the bed and set herself into motion. She didn’t have to be awake that early on a day off, but she’d resolved the moment her eyes opened that she was going to get a break from that goddamn alarm, no matter what it took. The first step was getting herself ready - a drawn out shower to ensure Shouto had already left the house when she got out, the expensive hair serum she saved for big occasions, clean makeup with a shiny cherry lip and a hint of a sharp jet-black wing. Her hair was blow-dried into a long, flat sheet that hung against the back of the tight red cardigan she plucked from a dresser drawer, along with a dark gray tweed skirt that danced around her hips in loose petal-shaped pleats.

With everything seemingly in place, Momo gave herself a once-over in the floor length mirror that hung next to her dresser. She turned sideways, tracing the curve of her backside where it blotted out a hill of light emanating from her bedside table. Her hands smoothed over the skirt’s intricately woven tweed, the two silver rings on her hand catching the dim light against the dark contrast of the skirt fabric. Her smile returned, soft and genuine. He was caught in that same work rut again. She had do something drastic to break the cycle, and this seemed drastic enough to her.

“Damn, you look good,” she muttered to herself for an extra confidence boost before heading off for the kitchen to caffeinate for the day. Mina was going to be so proud of her.

Lunch was an easy affair to sort. They’d prepared daytime meals ahead of time, a habit Shouto had gotten her into that quickly became a staple of the very limited time they got to spend with each other during the week. That day’s boxes got tucked into a small lunch box lined with cold packs (of course he’d forgotten to grab his lunch again; Momo was going to smack him across the side of the head) along with two melon sodas before she set off for her car. Dinner was already in the slow cooker, the house was immaculate to a level that had to make him chill out, and Momo’s assistant was ready to cover her “sick leave” for up to a couple of days by the time she set off for his office. Perfect. So far, everything was going to plan.

Shouto’s office sat in the middle of a sleek street near the city’s financial district. The block was lined with shiny black mirror glass on both sides, the sidewalk below dotted with an equal mix of suit-clad businessfolk and minimum wage workers husting to their next bus stop. Momo navigated through them to park underneath Shouto’s office building before making her way into the parking level’s elevator, her heels clinking against the concrete that surrounded her until she was encased in steel.

Shouto’s suite occupied the entire top floor of the building. Momo tapped the last button on the panel just inside the lift’s sliding door and waited patiently as it lurched upward, not stopping until she’d arrived at the very top. She snorted quietly. Had he rigged the panel to go directly to his floor when prompted?

His receptionist - Ayame, right - was busy hammering away at her keyboard when Mono sauntered into the waiting area. Her tall boot heels heralded her arrival in staccato taps against the white marble floor, loud enough to get Ayame’s attention, who popped up with a surprised gasp before jolting to her feet. “Ahh, sorry Mrs. To-”

“Momo, please,” she cut in before the receptionist could finish. “I’m not here on official business.” She bumped her hip against the lunch box held at her side. “Just dropping off lunch. Making sure he hasn’t keeled over yet. The usual.”

Ayame sighed in relief, a hand clutched to her chest. “Oh thank goodness,” she breathed. “I thought I’d missed a meeting reminder or something.”

Momo frowned slightly. The poor thing looked like she was about to keel over herself. Her eyes were half-mooned with pale gray circles that pressed too hard into her skin for someone fresh out of college. She’d been working just as hard as Shouto, then. Momo would have to talk to him about remembering that not everyone is a semi-human work machine. For now… “Why don’t you take a couple hours for lunch?” she said softly, offering Ayame an encouraging smile. “Grab some coffee and take a walk around the park. You look like you haven’t breathed fresh air in days.”

Ayame’s surprise and relief were both palpable. She blinked, glancing at her boss’ closed office doors. “I don’t think I should,” she replied quietly. “His lunch hour is about to start, and there are meetings scheduled within the two hours afterward…” She blinked hard, a lightbulb seemingly popping to life between her ears. “I’ll route all calls to my work phone and take a picnic lunch. I’ll be back no earlier than 1:45.”

Momo checked her watch. It was 12:15. “Excellent.” She flashed Ayame a brilliant smile on the way toward the double doors leading into Shouto’s office. “Thank you. Really. I’ll make sure he knows how far out of your way you’re going.”

Ayame snorted quietly, her purse already hung over a shoulder. “You know me,” she replied cheekily. “I work to the bone for my paycheck. This really is the worst, let me tell you.”

Momo laughed in return. She waited for the elevator to close before reaching for the door knobs in front of her, unwilling to let anything else distract them. There was no reason for anyone else to be on that floor for the following hour and a half. Until 1:45, Shouto was hers. She twisted one knob and leaned her weight forward to push the door open, only to jump in surprise when it bumped against the sole of a shoe on the other side.

Shouto blinked back at her through the crack between the door and its frame, too stupid cute for his own good as he visibly tried to parse out what was happening. Momo had known him for over a decade at that point and he’d only gotten cuter over time. Good God, how was he even human? “Uh, hi,” he said, his confusion apparent. He peered around her toward the back of Ayame’s desk. “Did I hear the elevator twice?”

“Yep.” Momo didn’t give him time to investigate. She held the lunch box up and put it between them as she walked forward to make him focus on taking it from her hands while she closed the door behind herself. “Your receptionist is on lunch break and you left yours at home.”

It worked. He took the lunch box and gave her room by stepping back, smiling the whole time. “Thank you, Momo,” he said, eyeing the container with obvious elation. “I would have just had something delivered when I realized it was missing. You didn’t have to come all the way up here just to give me this.”

“Of course I did.” It was a casual day with nothing major planned as far as she knew, but Shouto was still dressed like he was going to meet a room full of politicians. His dove gray button up was rolled to the elbows, the rest of him all clean pressed lines and well tailored hems that hid what she knows to be a deceptively lithe frame. Under the expensive business drag, Shouto was built like an endurance runner. She smoothed her hand over the seam where his neck and shoulder met on the way to press a soft kiss to his mouth. He pulled in a sharp little breath through his nose, but immediately relaxed under her touch as the breath came out in a slow stream. She pushed everything she wanted to say out loud into that one brief kiss - you’re safe, it’s okay, you can relax. It seemed to get the message across, because Shouto’s hands were on her waist just a few seconds later as he eagerly returned the tenderness offered to him.

They pulled back before the contact became anything but chaste. Momo offered him an innocent smile, even as she lingered in his space and played with the pressed edges of his shirt lapel. “Take your lunch break. Please.”

Shouto’s gaze fell to the meager space between them, grip loose and gentle over the points of her hip bones. He looked so… tired. What could have possibly been weighing on him hard enough to make him physically slump over? Did she really want to know, especially if it had anything to do with his “ side jobs”?

“Okay.”

He tilted his head up again, and when he met her eyes again his flickered with sadness. “I’m sorry.”

Momo slipped her arms around his neck to pull him the rest of the way toward her and into a tight hug, their fronts seamed together from the collar down. He clinged back, snaked around her waist like he was afraid she would melt through the floor. That wouldn't do. “Don’t apologize,” she murmured back into the side of his head, her fingers snaking up through his hair on the other side to soothe his scalp with her nails. “You’re doing your job. It’s not your fault things are busy.”

“That doesn’t excuse neglecting you.” He stepped back again, taking the lunch box with him on the way to a massive wood desk sitting in front of the office’s floor-to-ceiling windows. “My lunch hour is all yours. It doesn’t make up for being so spacy the last few weeks, but I hope it’s a start.” He sets the container down on the desk to open it and unpack their lunch, but Momo quickly follows him and pushes his hands flat against the lid.

“Wait.”

He was still thinking too much, dammit. Shouto did as requested and went still under her touch while she scooted their lunch out of the way and rounded the desk in three long, slow strides. He tracked her every step, confusion warring with a spark of desire Momo fully intended to cultivate as she slid into his personal space again and nudged him back into his chair. He landed in the seat with a grunt and a quiet thump while Momo perched herself on the very edge of his desk in front of him.

“I thought you were coming by to have lunch,” he said plainly, a faint smirk edging across his mouth when Momo’s face pinched into a frown. He was needling back, the bastard. He’d already keyed into what was happening and was playing coy just to get back at her. Fine. At least he wasn’t thinking about work.

She nodded back. “That’s still happening.” Her hands gripped the edge of his desk on either side for leverage as she scooted up to take her weight off her feet, bumping his shin playfully but gently with the toe of a shoe on her way up. Her knees had been pressed tightly together until she hopped up, but once she was seated she let them widen until they were held reasonably wide without being too obscene. Her loose skirt pooled around her lap and across the span of desk between her spread thighs, effectively curtaining any direct view. If this didn’t get him out of work-brain, nothing short of a fan dance with tax forms would.

Luckily, it didn’t come down to burlesque with office supplies. Shout followed the shift of her knees with a slackened jaw, hunger building in his narrowed gaze and the fingers that tightened around the arms of his chair as he pushed himself up to his feet. His desk only increased their height difference by an inch or so, but it felt like he towered over her as his hands found her shoulders and pulled her into another kiss. The suggestion seemed to have gotten his head into the game; the faint edge of teeth pressing into her lower lip parted them and he groaned in appreciation as a callused hand smoothed itself over her lower back.

She hadn’t exactly chosen this life. It was unsaid knowledge that they would end up together before either of them could have even understood the concept. Truthfully, neither of them had been left with much choice. But as he pulled her onto the edge of the desk again in one smooth tug, seaming their laps together so quick it left her breathless, Momo couldn’t help the fondness that swelled in her chest. God, was she lucky to have ended up with him. Under all the coldness and professionalism and deeply-rooted anxiety was a man too kind and sensitive for the ugly world he’d been born into. If she hadn’t been the one “convenient” enough to use as a power consolidation move, would she have ever seen that tender side of him?

They’d barely found a rhythm between their mouths when Shouto broke away to hover at the side of her neck, just a breath away from her pulse. She jumped at the ghost of his breath over her skin, which she quickly realized was just a distraction as Shouto pushed his hands under the tulip hem of her skirt, palms flat to her bare thighs. “Bastard,” she grumbled as she stomped on the urge to squirm. He kept his office ice cold, which meant his fingers were usually about the same temperature in concentrated form.

She could feel his smirk against her neck as his hands trailed further up her thighs. She felt his fingertips poke into her abdomen, right at the bare seam where her hip and thigh met, and when he paused to groan quietly against her skin the urge to squirm became too much. “You planned this out,” he rumbled.

Momo circled her painted nails over the back of his neck. “Indeed,” she admitted while she toyed with the clipped strands at his hairline. “Down to the contingencies.”

He hummed again, deep and low in his chest, the rumble echoing through her as she clung to him harder. His hands were no longer frigid against her when they slid even further up, a comfortably familiar set of puzzle pieces that fit snug against the seams just below the points of her hips. When he met nothing but more bare skin, it hit some kind of switch in him because Shouto dipped to kiss her again with a newfound urgency, his grip tightening at the pads of his fingers until Momo wriggled against the pressure.

When he let go, it was only to slip down to his knees and tug her own over his shoulders. The bell shape of her skirt tented almost comically over his head as his arms bracketed her thighs against his ears, obscured until he audibly huffed and paused to shove the offending garment up toward her stomach.

Momo snorted as her skirt was abruptly jammed upward. “Easy down there,” she chided gently. “I like this ski-”

Her heatless protest was cut off by a sharp inhale as an impossibly hot tongue drags a long, agonizing line up the length of her exposed slit. Just as quickly, any thought she had to preserve her skirt flew out the window. He could have ripped it off her for all she cared (though logic screamed from somewhere in the void that that would be a terrible idea). A near save of throwing an arm back prevented her from losing her balance and falling back against the desk, the heel of her palm landing with a loud thud. His shoulder nudged her leg up far enough for her boot to find his chair and she eagerly took the leverage, his shoulder effortlessly holding the other leg wide.

He set into her like a man starved. It was all Momo could do to sit back and let him ravage her with only his mouth: reflex dictated she navigate them to the floor and re-position herself above his mouth until she was satisfied he’d decompressed enough. As it were, he drank in the praise that bubbled from her with quiet groans and subtle arches of his head into the fingers she had tangled through his hair, set on his task with an intense focus that had Momo nearly falling apart at the seams in what felt like moments.

When his lips locked around her core, there was no way she could have held herself up even if she wanted to. She dropped back to the top of the desk as gently as she could as Shouto nudged her hips upward, splaying her knees even wider than she’d been holding them over the edge of the desk. She buried her face in the crook of a sweatered elbow just in time to muffle the wail he tore out of her as he latched around her again with two warm, thin fingers sunk down to the hilt.

Momo had been on her fingers for long enough that being touched by someone else nearly sent her over the edge. Shout seemed to read her tensing up accurately and withdrew before she could fully commit to her orgasm, leaving her dangling on the edge until she sucked in a breath and forced herself back. When Shouto moved to stand, her sudden scowl only deepened. “What the fuck?” she breathed, but her confusion evaporated the moment she saw his hands go for his belt buckle.

Oh. Oh.

He was on her again before she could fully process the transition. Somewhere off the edge of the desk his belt jingled as he shoved his slacks down toward his knees, his once neatly tucked in shirt a rumpled mess against her skirt where it pooled around her stomach. Their lips sealed together hard enough for Momo to feel it against her teeth, a hand supporting the back of her neck when Shouto buried himself inside her with one hard, seemingly blind thrust.

God, that level of competency shouldn’t be possible, let along legal. Momo wailed again into their open mouths, the noise all but swallowed by Shouto as he allowed her a solitary second to breathe, then moved straight into a demanding pace that had her writhing under the intensity. Their hands tangled together on the way up to either side of her head, where the backs of her hands were unceremoniously pinned down as he fucked her hard enough to make the desk creak under them both.

Obscenities and even more obscene noises echoed around the otherwise silent office as they both approached their climaxes. Shouto looked like he was about to either pass out or fall apart at the seams; Momo encouraged him toward the latter by wrapping her legs around his waist and lifting her lower half off the desk to let him go as deep as he could and holy shit she didn’t know he could go that deep. Neither of them lasted more than a few seconds, Shouto bottoming out with a guttural moan that stuttered with his hips. Momo followed him as soon as she felt him fill her from what felt like the core out, her back arched up off the desk in a sharp crescent with Shouto desperately panting into her neck as she warbled out his name.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. This was the man she’d fallen for, not the exhausted log she’d greeted at the office door. She couldn’t see his face but she could feel him smiling against her neck, his breaths coming in short bursts that fanned over her throat as he clung to her. “I love you,” he murmured between breaths. “So much. Gonna be better to you, promise. More of this, less of this morning.”

His hands have already begun to wander despite his bearings still clearly being scattered, soothing down her sides and circling her shoulders and seeking out every spot that makes her melt as she slumped against the desk, struggling for her own breath. Even while exhausted and strung out of his mind, Shouto still instinctively nurtured others before himself. The world really was too cruel of a place for people like him.

“It’s not a set of checkboxes,” she reminded gently. Her manicured nails dragged matching paths up the back of his head from hairline to crown, tilting his head into the center of her bosom. Shouto rolled with the touch and settled into her chest, his hands coming to a rest at her sides once she began idly circling through his hair. “It’s the effort that counts. I love you too. I’m not mad, promise. I just miss you.”

Shouto tilted far enough to peer up at her, mismatched eyes still hazy when they found hers from somewhere around the top of her covered cleavage. She hugged him into her chest tighter as it ballooned with fondness again. He hadn’t pulled out yet; he had no right to be that cute. “Let me get through one more call and then we can go home together,” he suggested. “Maybe we can make dinner and watch a movie or something.”

“That sounds great,” she replied before Shouto could have a moment to doubt himself. She beamed down at him, confident and assuring. “But first I think you might want to, uh…”

Shouto’s eyes darted to where their hips were still locked together and jumped with a quiet gasp. “Sorry.” He slowly backed himself away until he was completely free in one slow, almost agonizing slide, Momo’s knees closing within moments so she could haul herself upright and begin adjusting her sweater hems.

“Has anyone told you you’re incredibly handsome lately?”

Shouto froze midway through buttoning his fly with a little choked noise. She watched his eyes widen slightly as he stared at the carpet, his cheeks a slightly deeper pink than they had been when they separated. “Yes,” he said back with surprising certainty. “But it’s still nice to hear.” The smile he shot back at her was disarming to a concerning level, and Momo felt her own cheeks deepen when he fixed her with it.

Bastard.

[screamingintosilence]

A/N: I started this at 8am this morning all because I saw the Dior Homme ad with Robert Pattinson and Camille Rowe in the elevator and felt compelled to write this as a Bughead drabble. I have no regrets. Sorry I didn’t finish sooner, I actually had to do work so I don’t get fired, oops.

She had been unsuccessfully trying to ignore the hormones coursing through her body for weeks now. 

He was her boss, after all. Not only that, he was founder and CEO of the entirety of Triple S Enterprises, while she was merely his personal assistant.

It didn't help that he was deliciously gorgeous - mid-thirties, all dark, brooding looks, silky tresses that she wanted to sink her fingers into as she held his head between her thighs, a toned, lean body that she dreamed of licking whipped cream off of. 

Down girl, she chidded herself. It was far too early in the morning to be getting so worked up, especially when she had yet to even face her boss.

Betty made her way through the crowd of bustling workers in the main lobby that were vying to get into the main bank of elevators leading to the upper floors of the skyscraper. 

She thanked her lucky stars that if she had to do office work instead of her dream job of investigative journalism (thank you very much post-grad New York job market), at least she was able to land working directly for a bigwig that had the finances to lease a private elevator for his upper level staff and their assistants.

“Ms. Cooper,” a deep gravelly voice greeted her as she passed the guard station by said elevator. Gerald “Tall Boy” Petite tipped his uniform hat to her as he did every weekday morning.

“Hi Jerry!” She beamed back as he blushed. Betty was the only person besides his wife allowed to call him that because no one was immune to her Betty Cooper charm. Well, except him, she thought bitterly as her mind once again turned to the image of her boss’s devilishly handsome face.

“Boss man hasn't been in yet, ma'am,” Tall Boy - as he was referred to by nearly everyone else - informed her as she continued on toward the elevator.

“That's fine, thanks Jerry.”

She hummed to herself as the elevator doors opened, running through her mental list of things she needed to get done today and what was on the agenda for her boss as well.

While she would rather spend her days researching into leads on breaking cases, freelance writing to get her foot in door didn't pay the bills on her 1 bedroom apartment. She knew that she could downgrade to a studio, but after 4 years of college in said living arrangement, she had refused. Hence needing a full-time gig that paid well enough to cover her expenses.

Her mind drifted to her best friend Veronica's offer to let her move-in, but Betty was intent on making it on her own as a way to prove her parents wrong. Always so stubborn, it'll get you in trouble if you're not careful, her nose scrunched at the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her mother.

However, she did take up Veronica's offer of helping her find a job in which they would accept her Journalism degree instead of the usually preferred Business Admin one. V’s father, Hiram Lodge, was a bigwig himself and had several business associates in high places, and it was thanks to him and his connections that she found herself in her current predicament of constant arousal over Forsythe Pendelton Jones the Third.

Who knew such a pretentious sounding name could very well fit a brooding bad boy type, who thankfully was in no way an asshole to his subordinates. It was only to his business rivals that he was truly ruthless. And if Betty was being honest with herself, his domineering tone he used during those business dealings had her panties soaked. His emanating power was her ultimate weakness and she wished she could just bang her head on her desk in utter embarrassment over how her insides turned to jelly.

“Hold the door!” An all too familiar commanding voice had her hand shooting out to block the doors closing right after she heard hold.

“G’morning, Mr. Jones!” was heard. 

A rushed “Tall Boy” the only response, before the tall frame of the man who haunted her dreams and played a starring role in her dirtiest fantasies crowded the doorway of the elevator, pulling up short at the sight of his PA.

“Ms. Cooper,” his voice like velvet caressed her as she felt her nipples go hard and her breasts grow heavier from it alone. “Perfect, you’re here.” His smile nearly had her falling to her knees at his feet.

Get it the fuck together, Cooper, she berated how easily he undid her without even knowing. Or caring, the voice in her head added snappishly.

She had been late getting up this morning, which hasn’t left her enough time for her normal daily AM self-care session with her favorite vibe that she had found extremely necessary since starting at Triple S. In the month of being his PA, she hadn't missed a day, but her she was, stuck on an elevator ride with the one man she wanted to get utterly lost in.

He leaned past her, hitting the button for their floor where his office was. It was all she could do to keep breathing normally, something she regretted at once when the intoxicating scent of his cologne washed over her senses and she felt a gush of wetness at the apex of her thighs. The doors slid shut and the box started to rise.

Fuck, not now, Cooper. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a terrible idea on her part as the lace of her underwear only made the friction more intense. She could feel her arousal painting the inside of her thighs.

You're such a horny mess, she squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. As attuned as she was to her own body, she could practically smell herself and her face flushed at the realization. She only prayed that the scent of his cologne would mask the smell from the object of her arousal.

She tugged at the hem of her shorter than normal pencil skirt, her brain once again cursing itself for sleeping through her alarm. She realized too late how terrible of an idea it was. His eyes snapped to get at the movement, taking in her form and where her garter belt peaked out from under the skirt.

She watched in horror as his nostrils flared and he took a deep breath to compose himself. It was the wrong, or right, decision on his part as he caught the unmistakable whiff of her excitement. His eyes fell shut for the briefest moment before opening once more. 

To her shock, his normally green eyes were nearly overtaken with the black of his irises blown wide. “Ms. Cooper,” his voice was so deep she could feel the vibration of it to her core.

He stepped towards her, all but backing her into the corner. Her breath caught in her throat as her chest heaved, drawing his eyes down to her cleavage that was nearly spilling out of the low cut shirt that she had thrown on in her haste to not be late. She watched as his tongue darted across his lips, a soft mewling sound dropping from her own unwittingly.

There was a soft growling sound in response as a soft “Sir” fell from her mouth. 

She could see the tether snap in his eyes as they flashed at her unbidden address, his right hand grasping the nape of her neck as his left wrapped around her waist, hauling her lithe form to his.

Their lips were millimeters apart, her eyes having fallen shut at the sensation racing through her veins. She could feel his lips hovering over hers, but moving no further. She pried her eyes open, confused by his hesitation, and then she saw it. 

The unspoken question his eyes of if this was ok, if she wanted this, if she wanted him. Her heart stuttered and her whispered “Yes” was all that was heard before his soft lips came crashing down in the most passionate kiss she’d ever experienced.

He knew how to kiss, soft pecks littered between passionate dances of his tongue tangling with hers. He tasted of the spearmint gum he chewed and tobacco of the cigarettes she had been trying to get him to quit. It was an intoxicating flavor combination and she couldn’t get enough.

Her hands had tangled in his silky hair, she noted in the back of her mind how it felt so much better than she had ever imagined, as her knee rose and hitched itself over his hip. His hand that had been around her waist dropped to her ass, pulling her somehow even closer into his embrace. His hips rocked, grinding his stiff erection into her core, the sensation causing her brain to short circuit and her lips broke away from his as her head fell back against the cool metal of the elevator box.

Uncaring that his lips were no longer on hers, they attached themselves to her neck, kissing, biting, sucking until they reached the top swells of her breast. She was moaning at each kiss, feeling like she was about to become completely boneless in his arms as her hands, still gripping his hair, pulled him tight to her bosom, never wanting this feeling to end.

She was so lost in everything he was doing, she didn't even notice the elevator starting to slow. Thankfully he was aware enough of where they were that he pulled back slightly as he felt the box of metal reaching its destination. He pecked her lips twice more, tucked her hair that had fallen out of her bun back behind her ear, and lowered her still hooked leg back to the ground.

They both straightened their clothes and hair as he folded his suit jacket which he had yet to put on over his arm to hide the evidence of how much she excited him. He gave her a quick wink before guarding his features as the elevator pinged to signal their floor and the doors slid open to reveal a matronly Ms. Grundy at the executive receptionist’s desk.

He placed a hand at the small of her lower back which caused her to shiver with delight.

“Morning Geraldine,” he greeted the older lady warmly. “Looking beautiful as ever.”

“Good morning, Gigi!” Betty added brightly.

“Morning Mr. Jones, Betty,” the lady blushed at the young CEO’s greeting.

“Please hold all my calls and reschedule any visitors for me this morning, Ms. Cooper and I have a very important last minute meeting that is expected to last for a while. I'll let you know when it's done.” Betty’s eyes flashed to him in surprise. What meeting? Did he mean? Oh God. His face gave absolutely nothing away.

“Of course, Sir. Have a wonderful day!” Her face showed absolutely no sign of suspicion and the tightness in Betty’s chest receded by a fraction. 

His hand, still pressed to her lower back, pushed her forward, ushering her down the hall. They passed her desk and he guided her into his office. His sound proof office, she reminded herself. Closing the door and flipping the lock, as an extra precaution, he guided her until her back was pressed against the mahogany and his arms were caging her in.

A cage you very much don’t mind being in, her mind was racing at all the possibilities of this unexpected turn her morning took.

“Now, Ms. Cooper, where were we?” His hooded gaze weighed down on her and she bit her lip at how his voice washed over her.

Her hands grasped his tie to pull him closer and she looked up at him through her lashes. “Mr. Jones.”

[fanfiction4thesoul]

What I See Part 2

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5

Warnings: None

Summary: You’re headed back home to London after a few years in America. You’ve got a new job at EMI, thanks to your best friend Freddie and you’re ready to start the next chapter of your life. But navigating life is far more interesting when you see far more than anyone else.

A/N: Oh my god guys. I did NOT mean for this part to take that long. Unfortunately I had a lot of things come up that needed taking care of and I’m still kind of in the middle of it. But I put aside a little time to finish this part, so I’m sorry if it seems a little rushed. Thank you again for your continued support as well as everyone that comments/likes/reblogs! I’ll try and get all my shit sorted so the next part won’t take too long.

Part 1

The ghost was a middle aged man, balding dirty blonde hair and a mean grimace on his face. He was shouting like his life depended on it making it nearly impossible to hear what Freddie was saying. You tried to keep your eyes off him to avoid seeming weird, but you could still see his wild gestures from the corner of your eye. The negative energy he was projecting into the room almost made you dizzy as it blasted you.

You missed the introductions but Freddie told you enough about everyone through stories that you could easily name each of them. Which meant that the ghost was yelling at Roger for whatever reason. Thankfully the ghost decided to take a break from his shouting to instead huff around in the corner. 

“Uh, it’s so nice to meet you all. Fred’s told me a lot about you” you said, trying to shake yourself into focus.

Brian smiled at you. “He hasn’t stopped raving about you either.”

“Oh yeah, mostly good things. Except for your fashion sense, though. We’ve heard multiple times how atrocious it is.” John chimed in.

“And now you can see I was right,” Fred gestured to you as if to prove his point. “I’ve spent years trying to get her to change, maybe you can do better than me, Rog.”

Roger eyed you up and shrugged his shoulders, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I really don’t know if I should be offended by that or not,” you said, hands on your hips.

“Take it whatever way you want, love. Just know that it’s only the clothes that need some help.” He smirked at you leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, yeah, great line. Trying to pick up your co-worker. Great angle Roger…” The ghost grumbled in the background. You pursed your lips. It seemed like he hadn’t noticed you staring at him while he was throwing his fit. This ghost was… volatile. In a way you hadn’t seen before. And the negativity that clung to him was something you never experienced and it made you uneasy. So maybe pretending you couldn’t see him would be better. At least for now.

“Roger, if you’re going to flirt with (Y/N) please do it where I can’t hear it.” Freddie huffed, setting the table with dinner.

“But I can flirt with her?” He raised his eyebrows, looking from you to Fred. Brian and John also stopped what they were doing to look over, waiting for Freddie’s answer. You just smirked and sauntered around the table to sit in the chair Roger was resting his arm on.

You gave Roger a wide smile, “I’ve already been warned you’re a shameless flirt. So it’s no skin off my bones if you want to spend your time complimenting me.”

There was a beat before Brian, John, and Freddie started laughing. “I think I’m going to have fun with you.” Roger said, shaking his head at you.

“That’s my (Y/N), darling. She’s the only one I know who can probably keep up with you.” Fred was still smiling as he sat down with the last of the food.

Dinner went off really well, better than you could have hoped. Even though Freddie told you so much about everyone, actually meeting them and talking to them were very different. You could see some of their quirks shining through. Each one of them was extremely intelligent in their own way. John was more inclined to listen to the conversation rather than actively participate. Brian was soft spoken and kind. He asked about your version of how you met Fred as well as your studies to be a sound tech.

Freddie and Roger dominated the conversation, going back and forth with stories and jabs at each other in a friendly way. Roger threw in as many flirty comments your way which earned groans from everyone at the table. You deflected with laughs and quips, though some of them definitely made your face heat up as they got more suggestive.

But all throughout dinner the ghost stuck around. He kept mumbling obscenities, critiquing whatever Roger said, normally after he threw in another line but at least he didn’t start shouting again. Your back was to him so you couldn’t see his face, but the snarky comments and negative energy rolling off him put you on edge.

When Roger got up to leave after dinner, giving you a wink as he passed, you watched as the ghost followed him up the stairs. It only confirmed that it was attached to him. 

The uncomfortable energy left as he disappeared taking the heavy, oppressive feeling with him and it felt like you could breathe normally again. Freddie gave you a look, but it was definitely more suggestive than imploring.

When Brian and John both bid you good night, you waited another moment, biting your lip. Freddie was the only confidant you ever had with your gift, but it was normally for silly things they did. You never met such a negative spirit before, at least not one that carried around that negativity like a blanket to drape over whatever room they were in. 

It made you nervous.

But just when you opened your mouth to tell Freddie, Paul walked into the room grabbing his attention. 

You sighed. Maybe tomorrow.

Just as you were about to slip out of the room, Freddie called to.

“Good night, darling! See you bright and early tomorrow morning!”

“‘Night Fred.” You smiled at him walking out into the cold night air. 

~O~

It turned out you couldn’t do much recording if there wasn’t actually anything to record. While the boys certainly had plenty of ideas, there wasn’t anything that they thought was ready to be put to tape. They were perfectionists and you could definitely see how you could go crazy on this farm with them. So for the past week you mostly sat behind the soundboard, playing with the sounds as the boys practiced whatever they wanted.

And even in the recording room, the ghost followed Roger and the negative emotion he brought was even stronger than it was on the first night. Despite the one sided shouting match that you walked into yesterday, the ghost remained stoically silent almost bottling his emotions up to make his energy that much more oppressive. 

Whenever Roger came close, it was like a douse of cold water falling over you making you tense up. You still met his flirty comments beat for beat, but you wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room.

At the end of each day, you quickly made an excuse to go to your house, avoiding additional invitations to dinner. 

“Please, (Y/N). We’ve barely seen you outside of work!” Freddie was whining at you just when you were saying goodbye.

Your eyes drifted behind him to where Roger was adjusting his drums, the ghost pacing along behind him. “I’m just not feeling it tonight Fred. Maybe tomorrow, yeah?”

Freddie looked around, spying who was behind him. “Is it Roger? Darling, did Roger do something? Say something? You know he means it in jest.”

“It’s not Roger, Fred. Trust me.” And it really wasn’t. You wanted to get to know him more, but that damn ghost just keeps getting in the way. When Roger was practicing in the other room, you could freely talk to Brian and John but as soon as Roger walked in and the ghost followed you suddenly felt stunted. Getting to know Roger was… a challenge.

“Then what is it?”

“I… m not sure.” You took another look at the ghost before turning for the door. 

You didn’t get very far before someone was calling your name.

“(Y/N)! Wait up!” It was Roger, hair flowing behind him as he came up beside you. “I… uh. The guys… they decided that we should take at least one day off during the week. And the, ah the town isn’t that far down the way. I’m not sure what there is to do there… but do you wanna go explore it?” He stuttered over his words a bit but he didn’t appear nervous.

Just as you were going to respond, the ghost came through the wall and sunk your mood. It was so infuriating. Every. Single. Time. And it was only if he was in the same room! You never, ever in your life wanted to get rid of a ghost before, but now you wished you could. 

“Wait,” you said, getting an idea. “Do they have a library?”

Roger furrowed his brow. “Uh, probably? Why?”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll explore the town with you. Next week. If you let me borrow your van to go to the library this week.”

“Uhh…”

“I promise I won’t go exploring without you.” You gave him your best smile, swaying a little to emphasize your plea. 

“...yeah, sure. Okay-”

“Great! It’s a date!” You quickly jumped forward to give him a peck on the cheeks, pulling away with a wink. “Don’t daydream about me too much.”

You hurried away, hoping it seemed more playful rather than wanting to rush away from the spirit. You really hoped the town had a library. And had what you were looking for...

Part 3

~

Taglist: @jennyggggrrr @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @rogahs-drowse @butlegendsneverdie @leghy @the-moving-finger-writes @juliarvra

[sintheyokai]

Uncle

So @oiseaunoir11 and I were chatting and I threw this idea into the void and he really liked it so here I am starting to write a Twisted Wonderland drabble story with an OC I made on the spot. Al this may involve Morad. Also this might involve @edda-blattfe HC about Rook so CW for Implied Abuse towards like... The end? And @twistedwonderlandimagines HC about Pomefiore vs. Savanaclaw. Rated T for like... One swear?

Uncle

Vil sleepily walked through the halls of Night Raven college. He had gotten a late night notice from Sam (although he's still questioning how the shopkeeper got into the dorm) that someone was waiting for him in the front office.

Headmaster Crowley's office, specifically.

Needless to say, he was a bit confused and pissed (who dare wake up the beautiful Vil Schoenheit?), but he went regardless, never changing out of his pajamas.

He finally reached the door, and rapped on it three times.

"Come in." he heard the Headmaster speak from inside. Vil entered, only to be nearly tackled by a hug.

"Vil, my dear little brother, it's so good to SEE you!"

Oh by the Evil Queen no.

"Phillis?" Vil raised a sleepy eyebrow at his brother.

Phillis was much taller than Vil, and looked nothing like him. He had pitch black hair, his eyes a sweet warm brown, and skin much paler than his, but cheeks having a beautiful rosy hue.

"That would be me, Vil! Thank you for stopping by, I was worried you'd continue your beauty sleep."

"I nearly did..." he peeked behind his elder brother to see a woman holding something wrapped in a blanket. "Oh, Casanine! You're here too?"

Casanine giggled softly, "Of course, Vil, you should know by now that my husband and I are joined at the hip!"

Casanine was nothing short of a doll. Her face was round and delicate, and her whole body was like china. She, too, had jet black hair that reached to her mid back. But instead of brown eyes like his brother, hers were a piercing blue.

Crowley cleared his throat as to gain their attention.

"Mr. Schoenheit, I believe you have something important to tell your brother?" he pressed.

"Oh! Yes!" Phillis suddenly grabbed Vil's shoulders lightly.

"We need you to look after Ebony."

There was a silence. Vil wasn't quite sure he'd heard right. Was he still asleep?

"Wh-What?" he stuttered. Phillis shook his head, bowing in apology.

"I know, I know, it's far too early, and you probably have quite a lot of work to do, but Cas and I have major tests till Friday, and my school rules state we can't bring our kids during those kinds of tests."

"But doesn't she have school?"

"No, it's Heroes Week, she's off of school for now."

"So I'm...."

"Babysitter from today through Thursday, yes Vil."

Phillis then picked a bag up off the floor, offering it to Vil.

"She's got her blanket, her stuffed bird, some snacks in case she doesn't want anything here, pajamas, spare clothes, toothbrush and paste, medicine and bandaids, and some storybooks in case she has a rough night."

Vil took the bag and slung it over his head and onto his shoulder. He then held out his arms to Casanine, who carefully handed him the little blanketed bundle that was his niece. She stirred a bit, looking up at her uncle.

"Uncle Vil?" she said, in a cute yet groggy and sleepy voice as she looked up at him with equally sleepy doe eyes.

"Good morning, Ebony~" he cooed, stroking her bobbed black hair before turning back to his elder brother and sister in law.

"You two go home and get some rest before testing. I'll take care of her."

"Thank you SO much, Vil," Casanine smiled, "This means the world to us!"

"Not a problem, Cas."

And with that, Vil left for his dorm, Ebony lightly snoring all the way.

--- --- ---

The next morning was hectic. Vil was the last one still asleep, and Rook was getting everyone ready. He left for Vil's private room for a moment, pounding on the door four loud times. He put his ear to the door.

"Uncle Vil! You're being robbed!" he heard a far too loud whisper.

Rook raised an eyebrow before Epel came by.

"Has he still not answered?"

"No, but I heard someone in there...

They put their ears to the door once more.

"Uncle Vil! There's two! Wake up!"

A rustle of sheets. Silence. A hurried rustle of sheets. Then Vil, quite loudly:

"I slept in! Oh by the GREAT SEVEN, I am laTE! Sweetheart, see who's at the door!"

Rook and Epel were surprised to hear the word 'Sweetheart'. They stepped back to allow said "Sweetheart" to open the door.

The large wooden door was opened, but Rook and Epel saw nothing.

"Uncle Vil, are these your fends or should I gab a boom?"

The duo jumped and looked down to see a small child, probably elementary school aged. She was pale, had shiny, bobbed black hair, and big blue eyes that looked far too big for her head.

"Rs, Ebony, remember to practice your Rs." Vil ignored the question, finally tying up his sash and grabbing a small, short sleeved denim jumpsuit from the bag on the floor. Ebony puffed her cheeks a little, then tried again.

"Are. These. Your. FrrrrrrIENDSSSSS... Or. should. I. GrrrrrrrAb. A brrrrrrOOOOOOm?"

Vil gave her a small smile, "They're friends sweetheart. Now go put this on, quickly, so we can get you something to eat as fast as possible!"

"Okay! You look RRReally pretty today Uncle Vil!" Grinning, the child grabbed the jumpsuit and ran to the bathroom to change. Vil looked at the gaping mouths belonging to Rook and Epel.

"My niece." he said, only causing the mouths to gape further.

Ebony was soon out of the bathroom, making a beeline for her pair of laced, red tennis shoes and purple socks. Vil glanced at the clock. They had 15 minutes to get to the Mostro Lounge to probably grab a quick bite before his classes.

"Ebony, honey, do you need help tying-"

"No thank you! Watch!" the child grew a cat like grin before quickly tying her shoelaces, "Look Uncle Vil! I did it!"

"Ahh! Look at you, tying them all by yourself!" Vil squealed as Ebony got the other shoe tied, "Such a big girl, I'm so proud! Now come along, let's go get something to nibble on!"

She grabbed her stuffed bird as he gently took her tiny hand before pulling her alongside him, Rook and Epel following close behind.

Upon entering the common room, there was an explosion of "Awwww!"s and "So cute!"s among the students. Vil paused for a bit.

"Everyone! This is my niece: Ebony Black Schoenheit, her parents can't take her to their school due to testing, so we have to care for her, understood!?"

A collective "Yes Dorm Master" was heard before Vil rushed out, niece in tow.

By some damn miracle, they made it to the cafe with 10 minutes to spare and at a minimal line. When they got to the counter, Azul took a quick glance at Ebony.

"Heroes Week?" he guessed. Vil was slightly taken aback at the guess.

"Yes, actually, how'd you guess? Oh, and two of the chocolate croissants if you can, Azul."

Ebony suddenly gasped, peeking into the glass cake cabinet.

"Morad!" she squealed, dashing behind the counter before Vil could catch her. Ebony practically tackled the poor, unfortunate child to the ground in a hug.

"Ah! Ebony!!" Morad squealed with equal delight upon realizing who was hugging him.

"Morad, get off the floor, you might trip someone." Azul asked politely, the two children getting up quickly, "Is this the Little Miss Ebony you've told me so much about?

Ebony grinned and bounced about, "Moraaad! You did tell your big bother about me!"

"Ebony, dear, I know you're having fun, but Uncle Vil needs to get to class!"

"Okay! Who's your fist class?"

"My FIRST class is Potions with Professor Crewel."

"Boom boom class?"

"Yes, Ebony, boom boom class."

"YAY!!" Ebony burst into a fit of giggles as she ran to her uncle, who handed her one of the croissants as they walked out the door.

--- --- ---

When they walked in, just as the bell rang, Divus spoke.

"Mr. Schoenheit, is there a reason you're bringing a child to my class?"

"My apologies, Professor, my brother and his wife had their own classes to go to, and they couldn't bring her today."

Cater went wide eyed, "You have a brother??"

"Yes, put a sock in it, Cater!"

"That's enough." Divus raised a hand, "Very well. As long as she doesn't get too close to any potions."

Ebony suddenly hugged the professor.

The room was silent.

Then a muffled voice came from the depths of his fur coat.

"Fluffyyyyyyy~~."

For the entirety of Potions class, Ebony practically stuck like glue to Divus, playing with his coat and occasionally asking her uncle what he was brewing. There was only one explosion throughout the lesson, which made her scream (and sent her into a concerningly gleeful frenzy).

Once that class was over, Vil gave her a key.

"Ebony, sweetie, go grab your blanket, my next class is going to be Professor Trein, he's a bit boring. Do you remember where it is?"

"Yep! On your bed!"

"Good. And if you get lost, you know what to do?"

"Find somebody and be caful."

Vil kissed her forehead and patted it, "Yes, find someone and be careful. I love you."

Ebony giggled, running off to the Pomefiore dorm as Vil went to History, only hoping that his niece would make it to both the dorm and class safely.

--- --- ---

Kalim and Jamil were just coming from the infirmary. Kalim had fallen off his broom during flight class and had needed to go get a few bones healed by the nurse. As they walked through the halls, they heard a little voice.

"E-Excuse me!"

They turned to see a little girl, holding a blanket and stuffed bird, trembling a few feet behind them.

"Hey kiddo!" Kalim grinned, "Something you need?"

"D-Do you know where M-Mr. Trein's class is?"

Kalim and Jamil glanced at each other. Was this Mozus' granddaughter or something?

"Yeah!" Kalim answered, "We're headed there now actually! You wanna come?"

She said nothing, only grabbing Kalim's hand and staying close.

Mozus was in the middle of a lecture when they came in.

"Mr. Viper. Mr. Al-Asim." he said, eyes brooding, "You are late."

"Yep! Nurse." Kalim chirped, handing his professor his and Jamil's late passes.

"And what of this child?" Mozus pressed.

"They finally adopted!" Floyd shouted from the back of the class, sending a small ripple of giggles throughout the classroom.

Ebony suddenly let go of Kalim's hand, making a beeline for her zoning out uncle. He only snapped out of it once Ebony started shaking him and squeaking a whisper.

"Uncle ViL!"

"Ebony! Oh Ebony, baby, what's wrong?"

Ebony nuzzled deep into Vil's chest before looking up at him with nearly falling tears and failing a whispered whimper.

"I DOn't liKE THE SHot scAy rED maaaaaaaN!"

The room was silent as only one thought ran thought ran through Vil Schoenheit's mind.

I am going to fucking murder Riddle Rosehearts.

"Mista, may I pet your kitty?" Ebony's attention was immediately taken by Lucius lazing about on Mozus' desk, all fear vanishing into piqued curiosity.

The class held their breath. Surely Mozus Trein had enough heart to-

"Absolutely not."

One could almost hear the imaginary mirror shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Aww... Okay!" Ebony piped, not seeming bothered as she snuggled into her stuffed bird and put the blanket over her shoulders.

Vil rubbed her back before Mozus continued his lecture.

---

15 minutes left. 15 minutes and he'd be out of this hell with Ebony in tow.

Vil was having much more trouble staying awake during Professor Trein's lecture on the History of Sirens. It also didn't help that he was constantly distracted by his niece's blanket, which just didn't want to stay over her shoulders.

He suddenly realized that he couldn't find Lucius. He wasn't on the desk, nor playing with some books in the storage room, so where...?

He heard a soft purr to his right, and he glanced over to see...

"Lucius, let the child sleep." Mozus interrupted himself for but a minute before continuing. He didn't get far though, as Lucius continued to seemingly nip at Ebony's hair. "Lucius! Let her sleep!"

Lucius suddenly grabbed a corner of the blanket, dragging it over her shoulder and tucking it in with his paws. He grabbed the other corner and repeated the process. Then, after the cat seemed satisfied with his work, he curled up, cuddling near Ebony's head.

Silence.

"Ahem! So, c-can anyone here, tell me, whyyyyyy-" Mozus struggled to keep his composure and continue the lesson. Several jaws nearly dropped.

The man had a weakness.

And they just found it.

Even once that class ended, Ebony was still asleep, so Vil loosely wrapped the blanket around her before picking her and his bags up, walking to the mess hall.

About halfway there, she stirred awake.

"Where are we going Uncle Vil?"

"Lunch, honey. Do you want me to put you down?"

"No thank you. Unless it helps you walk! Wait..." she suddenly hugged his neck, "Will the scay red man be there?"

Vil patted her head, "Yes, sweetheart. But don't worry!" he gave her a small, playfully happy pout, "Uncle Vil will take care of the scary short red man for you, okay?" he tickled her a little on the neck, sending her into a giggle frenzy.

"Okay! You're so strong Uncle Vil! And so pretty!"

They made it to the mess hall, and Vil sat his niece beside Rook. He then told Ebony:

"What did the scary man do, honey?"

"He sceamed 'Off with your head!', and I didn't know if he meant me."

"Okay, so Uncle Vil's going to fight the scary red man okay?"

Ebony started to tear up, "Please don't die Uncle..." she whimpered, bottom lip quivering. Vil kissed her forehead.

"I won't, Ebony sweetie. Go play with Morad! Maybe that will help."

And he rushed to the Heartzlabyul table while Ebony went to the Octavinelle table on the other side of the room.

"RIDDLLLLLEE!" Vil yelled, making the monarch nearly choke on his cupcake. He turned around with a fierce scowl.

"Schoenheit, how dare you yell at-"

"Do you want to explain why you were screaming in the hall?"

"My dorm members were being disrespectful!"

"Really!? Cause you done scared the shit out of my niece because she thought you were talking to her!"

Riddle was silent for a moment.

"You have a niece? How old?"

"Five, soon to be six. Wait no that wasn't the point of this conversation!"

Riddle went pale.

"Oh... I-"

Riddle paused. The words he were about to say felt so weird!

"I'm sorry. Is there a way I could make it up?"

"Yes, actually." Vil whispered something into Riddle's ear. Riddle let loose a small smile.

"Of course, Vil! I'll see to it by tonight!"

"Good. Now, I'm going back to my ta-"

"VIL!"

Vil snapped his attention to the voice, Epel quickly hurrying to him.

"Savanaclaw has Ebony!" he said, clearly panicking.

"Is she hurt?" Vil asked.

"Not yet!"

"Then what's wrong?"

"Y-You're not worried?"

Vil sighed, "One thing my brother taught me and his kid is that your decisions are no one else's but your own, and that as long as it doesn't harm yourself and others, be it in the short or long run, go for it. Trust your gut too."

Epel listened carefully to these words.

“So even if I hate those beasts’ guts, as long as Ebony is safe, I’m fine.

There was then a sudden scream.

"Uncle Vil!! Look!!! I'M SO HIGH!!!"

Vil looked over to see his niece on the first year's, Jack's, shoulders, eyes wide and face in utter joy.

The Pomefiore Dorm Leader and the Savanaclaw Dorm Leader locked eyes.

And suddenly Leona knew.

And Vil knew that Leona knew.

Leona looked at Ebony and seemed to tell her something. She frowned, but almost immediately perked up again before asking Jack something. He seemed hesitant, but eventually gave in to her smile and started walking towards Vil.

"So she's yours?" he asked.

"My niece, but yes." Vil smiled, "I see she already adores you. Must be the ears; she's always had an immense love for animals and anything animal-esque. Kemonomimis, Anthros, the like."

"Uncle Vil, Uncle Vil! I met a little blue fie haid boy!"

"A blue fire haired boy? Was his name Ortho or Idia?"

"His name was ORRRRtho and Morad said that they were bOOOOOOOYYfeeeeeeeends!"

Vil nearly dropped his niece as Jack passed her.

"Really now?"

"Yep! I didn't have the hot to ask him if he knew what that meant."

Vil chuckled. He had known Ebony knew what a boyfriend was, he was just glad she didn't flaunt her knowledge.

"You sure you're alright with her coming over to your our table?" Jack scratched the back of his neck a little.

"As long as you don't harm her, I see no problem."

"You seem like a good uncle."

Ebony hugged Vil tightly, "He is! Uncle Vil is the prettiest, bestest, funnest uncle ever!"

Vil felt himself blush and grin.

"Alright, alright, let's go back and eat lunch."

"Alighty!" Ebony chirped.

As they walked back, Jack heard Ebony fail to whisper.

"Uncle Vil, their eas were so FLUFFYYYY~!"

--- --- ---

After lunch was flight class with Mr. Vargas. As Ebony stayed outside the changing rooms, Ashton approached her.

"Hey there!" he squatted to get eye level with her, "You wanna fly today?"

The child giggled.

"Uncle Vil says I'm too little, sir!"

"Aww." Ashton made a childish pout, "Well, I hope I can see you flying in my class someday!"

Ebony giggled again, bouncing up and down as Vil came out of the dressing room, holding a broom.

"Ebony, can you stay with Mr. Vargas while I take today's lesson?"

"Okay!"

And that she did the entire class period, watching students zoom around on their brooms and cheering people on as they did a small race and game after lessons.

They walked back to the Pomefiore dorm, the rest of the day to themselves.

"Uncle Vil, may I have some chocolate?"

The man in question turned to see why his niece had asked such a question. He stiffened as he saw her staring into the windows of Mr. S's Mystery Shop.

"It's closed, Ebony sweetie."

The child whipped her head around, the look upon her face screaming "I'm not amused, now try again."

"It's fo-thity, Uncle, we have time."

"Yes, but it's very dangerous to go inside after three thirty."

"Why?"

"Demons."

"Well, they won't mind if we're only in there for a LITTLE bit, right?"

Vil looked at the pleading eyes of the child he cared for.

"Ebony Black Schoenheit, you know I can't handle those puppy eyes please stop."

Ebony continued, eyes almost seeming to get bigger and bigger.

"Fine..." Vil sighed in defeat, "Which one would you like?"

"Dawk chocolate!"

"Dark chocolate? A very good choice!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Why, did you know that that's healthier than the normal chocolate? Milk chocolate?"

"Really!? Wow! So... is it a healthy that it will make me as pretty as you, Uncle Vil?"

The dorm leader squatted to caress his niece's face, "Ebony. Ebony, my sweet little apple." he kissed her forehead, "You are already twice as pretty as I am. Cherish that."

With Ebony giggling, the family entered the store, the smaller one making a beeline for the seemingly specific bar she wanted before rushing to the counter.

"Why, hello, little lady! Are you paying for that?"

Ebony's smile died into a look of realization.

"Oh yeah I need money."

"Which is exactly why I'm here." Vil placed some bills on the counter, Sam handing the change back to Vil, who, in turn, gave it to Ebony to keep. They exited without a hitch.

--- --- ---

When it was time for bed, and Ebony was in her pajamas, she brought Rook a small book as he sat on the couch.

"Uncle Vil is aleady asleep. He had a vey tied day."

"A very tired day, you say? So you want me to read Sleeping Beauty to you?"

"Yeah! It's the only stoy about one of the Seven Heoes I like. Oh, but you have to stop after the Prince kisses her. Uncle Vil does that with ALLLL my stoies."

So Rook read to that part, closing the book.

"Now?" he asked.

"The kiss didn't work!" Ebony piped.

Rook was taken aback at her answer.

"Then what happened? How did Miss Aurora wake up?"

"Welllll...." Ebony pondered her answer, "I like to think her mommy and daddy found out. They were vey sad, so they visited her. Then they kissed her forehead to say goodbye..."

She seemed sad for a bit before perking up.

"But then she woke up! Do you know why?"

"I don't think I do! Enlighten me!" Rook asked with exaggerated and childish interest.

"Because a good mommy and daddy's love is REAL true love!"

She suddenly hugged Rook for but a second, recoiling almost instantly.

"Ow..." She whined, and Rook looked down in time to see a small ball of light disappear...

And her fingertips grow pitch black.

A fierce, unbearable cold that nipped her fingers to make them look like his.

"Your... Daddy did that to you?"

Rook noticed that Ebony's eyes had become his shade of green. It didn't last long, however; her eyes were soon back to blue and her fingertips normal.

"That's... That's not nice... Daddies shouldn't do that!"

"You saw?" Rook didn't mean to sound angry with Ebony, but... he really didn't want her telling.

"Yeah. Mommy says it's my hero power- what's gonna get me into a big school like Uncle Vil. I don't really get it though..."

There was a silence.

"Have you told him?"

"Who?"

"My uncle! Isn't he your friend?"

"Would you?"

Ebony nodded, "Yeah! I trust him!"

Rook thought for a bit.

"Well, what if you didn't trust anyone?"

Ebony took this question into consideration.

"... I'd make friends." she said, "Then I'd spend time with them so that I can know to trust them or not.”

More silence.

“Hey, you have to pomise me something.” Ebony suddenly stood on the bed so that she was somewhat eye level with the huntsman.

“And what do I have to promise you, Little Miss Schoenheit?”

“That by the time I get to big school, you’ll have told somebody.”

She held out her pinky and waited, presumably for Rook.

“Pomise?”

He contemplated, looking at the hand outstretched in front of him. Finally, with a small smile and tears at his eyes, he wrapped his own pinky around hers.

“Promise.”

--- --- ---

The week went by almost too fast. Soon, Ebony’s parents returned from school for their daughter. As they stood in the front hall, Vil assuring his brother that everything had worked out fine, Ebony suddenly hid behind her mother.

“What’s wrong, Ebby, love?” Casanine asked.

“It’s the scay red man, Mommy!” the child whispered.

Riddle approached them and knelt down, “It’s okay! I’m not gonna scare you this time!” he smiled.

He pulled out a small box and retrieved something from inside it.

It was a miniature cupcake with red icing.

“I heard it’s almost your birthday, so I asked this to be made for you. Do you want it?”

Ebony’s eyes widened, almost sparkling with curiosity. She slowly came out from behind her mother and shuffled up to the monarch. Grabbing the treat with a delicate hand, she then scurried back, this time hiding behind her father.

“Thank you!” she said once behind Phillis. Riddle got up from his knee, then bowing a little before heading back to where he had come from.

Phillis suddenly hugged Vil, who slightly recoiled at the touch before hugging back.

“Thanks, Vil. Ebony seems like she had fun. Any chance you could watch over her again?”

“Perhaps.” Vil smiled, “If Ebony wants to stop by again, that’s fine!”

At the mention of a possibility, the little girl nodded feverishly.

“Yes!”

[gwilyoubemine]

Having an argument with your boyfriend Gwilym and then Brian (being the father figure he is) comforting you as he heard, Brian then telling Gwilym to make up with you and everyone living happily ever after :)

i loved this a lot. i have an presentation exam tomorrow and here i am at 1am (nearly 2am oooops) doing this. what we can gather from this is that ayse is very silly. i hope you enjoy this! it’s a tad long.

going to the pub for the night was gwilym’s idea. you found a decent spot right at the back, an empty booth- which was a score on a busy friday night. you spent the first hour drinking and laughing over random nonsense. you talked about your day, argued over which movie you would watch later. you settled on a 80s movie and gwil was adamant on watching back to the future. you, on the other hand, wanted to watch the breakfast club. and after an intense debate concerning which movie was the ultimate choice, you both ended up chuckling over how silly it was to debate over such a thing. you decided that you would watch both movies and gwil gave you a kiss to seal the deal, mumbling an ’it’s a date then’ whilst flashing you his signature smile.

gwil also proposed that you both take a trip to the countryside at the weekend. and the thought of spending some quiet time with gwilym had you grinning in excitement instantly. long car rides, expanses of grass and trees, lakes that you could sit by. you gushed about how brilliant the idea was and teased that you would be in control of the music during the car ride because of the questionable songs he often played. he gave you a look of mock hurt and kicked your leg playfully under the table. “i caught you listening to my spotify playlist last week and i saw you dancing along!”

when gwilym had to leave to take a phone call, you hadn’t expected company. shortly after gwilym left, a man appeared at your table. he had blonde hair that fell into his eyes and a smile that was all teeth. “can i sit here?”

“i’m waiting for someone actually.” you told him, offering him an apologetic smile.

nevertheless, the man took a seat opposite you and you raised a brow at him, a gesture he seemed to take no notice of. at this point, you found it hard to ignore the alarm bells going off in your head, what would gwilym say when he got back?

“what if i offer to buy you a drink?” the stranger asked, his lips stretched into that big smile again. “you can’t possibly say no to one drink.”

“i think i could.’ you said, folding your arms over your chest. "and i also think you should be leaving.”

“you want me gone so soon?” he asked, feigning hurt. “can i not sit down next to a pretty woman and offer her a drink? there’s no crime in that.”

“maybe if that same woman is waiting for someone else and has already stated that clearly.” you mumbled, trying hard to control the annoyance bubbling up inside of you.

“i think you’re just saying that in an attempt to make me leave” he probably thought he was coming across as charming but you were honestly a few seconds away from storming off and finding gwilym. the phone call must have been a serious one for it to last that long- work perhaps, or maybe a family issue.

“c'mon, entertain me for a little while.” he leaned closer to you and you found yourself freezing, unable to pull away. his strong cologne quickly filled your senses. “the whole uninterested act isn’t fooling me.”

“can i help you?” an angry voice suddenly questioned from above you, just as the stranger’s hand had settled against your hair. the intensity behind gwil’s words had you sitting as far back in your seat as possible, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

the man opposite you looked up at your boyfriend with wide eyes, clearly unable to come up with anything to say. “i was just offering to buy her a drink, man. no harm done.” he said after being prompted by gwilym to answer him.

“well, she doesn’t need a drink from you.” gwilym practically growled out, his eyes burning holes into the other man’s face. it was almost as if he was daring him to stay in that seat for any longer. “if i were you, mate, i would get the fuck out of here.”

the man scrambled away with a quiet “talk about possessive’, leaving you and gwilym in silence. the noise coming from the rowdy table nearby felt so much louder all of a sudden.

and that was probably the time for you to say something. to at least look at him. instead you kept your eyes planted on the table in front of you for what felt like an eternity, unable to meet his eyes.

"we’re leaving.” he said eventually, his voice tight. you glanced up at him to see that his jaw was locked and that the same look of anger was still plastered across his face. you were used to his features looking so gentle and kind. soft eyes that followed you around in admiration, an angelic smile that made you ache with the want to kiss his lips.

“gwil, can we talk about this?” you choked out, quickly fixing your bag over your shoulder.

gwilym looked away from you and mumbled something about not being in the mood. the walk back to his car was silent, and the absence of conversion only resulted in your thoughts circling at what felt like 100mph.

gwil kept his eyes firmly on the road and made no effort to talk during the ride home. he didn’t even connect his phone to the speakers to play his music. you found yourself missing his questionable song choices. missing the conversation you would usually engage in when driving home.

“gwilym.” you started, his name sounding a little shaky. “there’s really no reason to be mad. he was just a random man who appeared in front of me and i told him i was waiting for someone. he was just really persistent!”

gwilym sighed, his hands curling around the steering wheel more tightly. “so i’m not allowed to be angry? is that it?”

“no, i-”

“did you even register how close that man was to you, y/n? he was inches from your face. and his hand was going straight for your hair.” gwilym took a breath to calm himself. “why didn’t you move away from him? or at least tell him you had a boyfriend.”

“i just froze, okay…i don’t know what happened… and i told him to leave. maybe i could have been firmer but regardless of that, i still don’t see why you’re so angry with me.”

“can’t you just accept that i am pissed off right now? why does this have to be about you and how you feel like i shouldn’t be angry.” he snaped, moving his eyes from the road for a second to look at you. you stared back at him in shock, your stomach dropping. gwilym rarely ever acted this way. the expression on his face and the tone of his voice made you feel sick. “i don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

that night was awful. you both got ready for bed without exchanging a single word, and the sick feeling in your stomach only got worse as time ticked by. you sat on the bed with your legs pulled to your chest and thought about all the ways to start conversation back up. maybe gwilym was right, maybe you just needed to accept he was angry. you certainly would have been fuming if you saw a random woman all up in gwilym’s face.

gwilym emerged from the bathroom in nothing but his boxers. the navy ones you bought him last christmas. the sight only made your heart clench more painfully. his boxers clung to his ass in the most sinful way. he always looked good like this, with his broad chest and thick thighs on display. and your eyes were always hungry to take in as much as possible. on any other night, you would have wrapped your arms around his neck and whispered against his lips how hot he looked. and he would have grinned in an amused manner, cocking an eyebrow as his hands settled on your hips, murmuring out a “oh, do i, love?”

but there was none of that tonight. gwilym kept his eyes on the floor as he made his way over to the bed, clearly unhappy with how the night had played out. he crawled under the covers and you joined him shortly, painfully aware of the tension between you both. and with a barely audible “goodnight” he turned onto his side and closed his eyes. it seemed like forever until you got to sleep.

                            ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

the next morning, gwilym was no where to be seen. he had left early in the morning, and with no note telling you where he had gone. you ate your breakfast alone, wondering where gwil was and mulling over how badly last night turned out. you had never seen him so frustrated.

when the door bell rung around noon, you had no clue as to who had come by to pay you a visit. brian may’s concerned face was not what you expected when you finally got up to open the door.

“brian?” the shock was evident in your voice.

“hello y/n, can i come in?” he asked and you were quick to usher him inside, asking if he wanted a cup of tea. he declined with a polite smile and took a seat beside you on your sofa. his hair seemed curlier than ever, an endearingly chaotic mess of ringlets.

“to what do i owe this lovely surprise visit?” you questioned, folding your arms over your chest. you shot him a small smile. “or did you just want to say hello to me?”

“it’s always nice checking in on you, love, but there is a reason for my visit.” he settled his hands on his knees, his expression more serious now. “gwilym popped by a little earlier to discuss some things, just about the bohemian rhapsody special coming up in july. but with that aside, he looked quite upset. looked like he had lost some sleep to terribly honest with you.”

you stayed silent as brian continued. he obviously knew gwilym’s bad mood had something to do with you. “i’ve never seen the boy look so bloody upset. he didn’t want to talk about it but i got it out of him in the end. i heard you had somewhat of an argument last night.”

you sighed quietly, lifting your eyes to meet brian’s. “yes.” you exhaled, not bothering to hide how down you felt about the whole matter. “it was so stupid, just over some irrelevant guy at the pub. nothing even happened but gwilym was still so angry.”

“it happens to all of us.” brian murmured softly, wrapping an arm around you to give you a friendly squeeze. “y/n, i don’t know exactly what happened between the pair of you last night but i know gwilym, i reckon he was just feeling hurt about the whole thing. you know he gets jealous, love.”

“i know, i know. it just sucks when we’re not talking. it’s the worst feeling when i know gwilym is mad, especially when it’s to do with me.”

“that is completely understandable. i had a little talk with him that seemed to make him feel a bit better, i think i knocked some sense into him. he went to run some errands but i’m sure he will be back soon. i just came by to check if you were okay.”

“that is so sweet of you, brian. and i’m sure i’ll be fine soon. i just hope gwilym feels better.”

“he’ll be fine too, you two are strong. you’ll be back to being all cuddly and lovely before you know it, trust me on that one. and with that being said, i should be off. m'taking anita out for lunch so i can’t be late for that.”

you gave him a tight hug and showed him to the door. “thank you again, brian. i hope you have a lovely time with anita.” he flashed you his signature smile and gave your arm a squeeze. “anytime, love.”

thanks to brian, you already felt better about the whole situation with gwilym. you were ready to put it behind you. and when the door bell rang an hour later, you strode over to it with confidence, preparing yourself for facing gwil and apologising if need be.

as soon as you opened the door, a bouquet of flowers was being thrust into your hands. gwilym’s hands were on your cheeks within seconds, his lips capturing yours in a longing kiss. “m'sorry for being an jealous idiot.” he panted against your lips, the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks. you were still clutching onto the flowers. you looked down and saw that they were carnations, a mixture of pink and white.

you placed the flowers down next to you on the floor and reached for gwilym, your arms circling around his frame. “it’s okay. i’m sorry for not telling that guy to get lost.”

“no, you handled the situation fine, love. it just angered me to see another man so close to you.” he murmured, his gaze fixated on your face. “just seeing him flirting with you as i walked back over to our table had my blood boiling. i really handled the situation badly, i shouldn’t have been mad at you.”

“i understand, i would have gotten jealous too. let’s just move on from this, okay? that man was not worth the trouble.”

“sounds great. i love you.” gwilym murmured, his hand moving to tuck a piece of stray hair behind your ear. he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as you drew him closer, your lips chasing his.

“i love you too, gwil.”

after a few minutes of non-stop kissing, gwilym pulled back to mutter something against your mouth.

“brian was here, wasn’t he?”

“yep.”

[sswwimagine]

Green Eyed Monster || Ron Weasley

Original Post: on ssimagines

Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

Word Count: 2169

Summary: You and Ron have have been dating since the beginning of fifth year, but now that your sixth year has started and you’re not in all the same classes, you’ve been hanging out with Neville more and more without even realising it. Ron becomes a bit standoffish.

Warnings: major fluff as requested, stubbornness, jealousy, insecurities

Request: Can you Write a Ron imagine where he’s very insecure and being clingy because he’s jealous(of a character you’re choice) and he’s being stubborn about saying the truth and just kill meh with fluff please:) sorry it’s longgg

Note: I decided to make the person Ron is jealous of Neville because Neville is such a sweetheart and the two obvious people Harry and Draco wouldn’t be as adorable, but just make Ron seem petty which he’s sometimes portrayed and I really hate that. So I picked Neville. Also Ron isn’t really all that clingy in this. I hope you like it.

You are a Gryffindor because it isn’t otherwise stated.

This is obviously already been posted, but since I started my smaller blogs, I wanted all my work for each fandom in one place. Instead of just reblogging everything I figured that I would repost it.

Request/Taglist

Masterlist

Your whole Hogwarts career you’ve been part of what had been dubbed quite lamely the golden quartet. In your first year, you instantly bonded with Hermione. The two of you were attached at the hip for the most part. When she heard Ron and Harry insult her, she ran away from you. The troll incident caused you to go to the two blubbering idiots for help. The rest of the story was history.

Last year, under the reign of Dolores Umbridge, you realized that you really liked Ron as more than a friend. Through great timing and the help of a meddling Hermione, you found out that he liked you too. Shortly after, You and Ron became a thing.

Now that you were a sixth year though, everything had changed. You weren’t in a lot of the same classes as you red headed boyfriend. You honestly didn’t mind it because you really enjoyed your classes and it wasn’t like you were alone. You shared nearly your whole schedule with Neville Longbottom.

You had been friends with Neville off and on for the years because of an unspoken rivalry between you to over herbology. The two of you were always trying to subtly one up each other. You honestly really enjoyed the competition because it helped both you improved your skills.

This year was the first year though that you Neville called a truce and worked together in your classes.. The two of you studied together every chance you got as this year was by far harder than any before. It was nice and the two of you fell into a routine about it.

You sat in the great hall for lunch in between Ron and Neville. Ron was talking with Harry and Ginny about their quidditch practice while you and Neville were answering Luna’s questions about the planets you were working on in this unit of herbology. Time ticked down and both Luna and Ginny dismissed themselves to get to their classes. Harry started talking to Hermione who had previously had her nose stuffed in a book. You and Neville were still excitedly talking about this upcoming plant that you were going to be learning about. Ron was left to eat.

You felt Ron’s hand come to rest right above your knee. It was barely noticeable, but you knew that it was there. As you laughed at a terrible pun made by Neville you felt the pressure on your leg increase.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Ron eating like nothing was up. You chose to ignore his hand and continue the conversation. The more you talked to Neville the higher Ron’s hand moved up your leg.  You felt your face flush It got to a point that made you feel uncomfortable and abruptly stood up. The sound of the bench moving back slightly caused people in close proximity to you look up startled. Ron’s hand had dropped to his side. He looked at you with wide eyes.

“Neville, we should get going; It’s a long walk to the classroom,” you said as you scrambled to pick up all your stuff.

You had pulled several books out of your bag during your discussion and now you were doing your best to put them away quickly. Both Harry and Hermione watched you in confusion as you were normally extremely organized. Your bag always was perfectly in order and you never lost track of time. You planned for everything. They had never before see you so frazzled before.

Neville was also shocked at your behavior. He knew that if they left now they would be nearly ten minutes early. He wasn’t against being early, but he also wasn’t done with his lunch. He expected to have more time. Neville showed the cheese sandwich he was holding into his mouth and stood up.

You turned and made your way out of the great hall without another word. Neville placed his stuff in his bag and picked up another sandwich before running after you.

Aside from one class you had with Hermione, you didn’t see any of your other friends until dinner that night. Without saying a word to anyone you slipped in the seat across from Ron and next to Hermione. It was usual for the two of you to sit so far apart, but you were concerned that you would have a repeated of what happened at lunch.

For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why Ron had done that. It just wasn’t like him to be so touchy in public. Early on in your relationship you had discussed your comfort zones and touching, aside from simple hand holding, in front of your friends was a huge no. that was really out of bounds to you. Neville looked confused as he saw the out of place seating arrangement. Two years ago, it would have been normal, but you had sat next Ron all fifth year. It just looked out of place. Without saying anything. Neville dropped into the seat on the other side of you.

Halfway through dinner, you were talking with Hermione about the homework you had for your class. It wasn’t too much, but still wanted to bounce your ideas off of someone before you committed anything to paper.

“There’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend,” Neville said. His eyes glistened with joy and there was a slight shake to his hand. Noticing it, you carefully laid your hand over his. It had become a habit of yours over the past month. It was a way of alerting him that you were listening to something he cared about. There was definitely nothing any bit romantic about it. Anyone could see that, but Ron still cleared his throat.

You looked to your boyfriend furrowing your eyebrows at him. HE made a simple gesture to your hand over Neville’s, but he didn’t say anything. You turned your attention back to Neville and urged him to continue.

“I was thinking that we could maybe go to Dogweed and Deathcap. I heard that they got a shipment of moly this week. I’d really like to get some before they sell out of them again.”

“That’s a good idea, Neville,” said Luna.

Luna had appeared behind you and seemed to want to sit between you and Neville. You happily slid over to make room for the airy girl. You knew that Neville had a crush on Luna. Because of this you would often do things to put him in a position to talk to her. You smiled at the two as Luna went on about the may uses of moly.

When you looked back to Ron you saw that his jaw was clenched tightly and he was grinding his teeth. Harry was talking to him about some theory he had said a million times about Draco. Everyone was tired of it, but Harry rambled on.

“Ron are you okay?” you asked reaching across the table to lay your hand over one of his clenched fists. He pulled it out of your reach and stood up. No one was really paying any mind to you two as he turned and stocked away. You sat there confused about why he was acting that way.

For the next week and a half, Ron continued to behave weirdly. He would always wrap his arm around you in the common room or hold your hand when you were walking down the hall. He would get so mad and quiet whenever Neville was around you, but he would always pull you closer to him. You were worried that Ron was mad at Neville for some reason, but you couldn’t really piece together anything that made sense.

“Harry, is something wrong with Ron?” You asked one night in the common room. Ron had seen you talking with Neville about some homework and stormed upstairs to the boy’s sixth year’s dormitory without a word. “I don’t think so,” Harry said looking at you. “Well, come to think of it, I have noticed he’s been a bit quieter lately.”

“Do you know why?” you said. You were pushing Harry to really think about it. Harry was a smart guy, but sometimes he was the most oblivious person you had ever met. You often were the one to help Harry see the bigger picture of things because you weren’t sure if he could get there on his own.

“I have no idea,” Harry said. “I think I will go ask him.”

With that, Harry turned on his heels and made his way to the stairs.

“Ask him to come down and talk to me,” You called to him before he was too far away. Harry just gave you a thumbs-up as he climbed the stairs to talk to Ron.

You flopped back down onto the couch and returned to your homework as you waited. Minutes ticked by and people came in and out, but none of them were Ron. You were growing impatient, but you weren’t ready just yet to go up after Harry.

As you were on your seat you felt the couch dip beside you. You turned to see Ron’s solemn face looking down at the ground. The two of you sat there not saying a word for at least five minutes.

“Ron what’s wrong?” you said Breaking the silence. You reached to set you hand on his shoulder., but he shook you off. It was so strange of him to act this way.

“I think we might need to break up,” Ron said. It was so quiet that you could barely hear him. Maybe you hadn’t heard him right. You didn’t want to have heard him right.

“What?” you asked from him to repeat himself.

“I think we need to break up,” he said louder this time. Shaking your head, you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What do you mean? Why?” you croaked out. A lump had formed in your throat making it hard for you to speak.

“I just think it will be best for you,” He answered. When he looked at you there were tears budding at the corner of your eyes. You shook your head more drastically this time.

“No,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Y/N, we are changing,” He started. “You are absolutely amazing, but you are changing and growing. I can’t stand in your way. I know that Neville likes you. It’s so obvious that it hurts to watch you two. I think you like him back, and I just can’t watch it.”

A single tear fell down your cheek, but the rest stopped coming. You started laughing quietly. Ron thought that there was something going on with Neville? “Ron,” you said softly laying your hand on his leg.

He looked up at you. You saw that there were tears in his eyes the size of oceans. A frown was etched into his sweet face. You were sure that he was going to move out of your grasp again.

“Ron, nothing is going on between me and Neville,” You said. “Neville is just a friend and a great herbology study buddy. Besides he likes Luna and even if he didn’t still I love you.”

Ron seemed to search your face for something. You knew that he was looking for any signs that indicated you were telling a lie.

“You love me?” He said. It was so quiet that you might have missed it if you hadn’t been alone. For the first time all night, you two were the only ones in the common room.

“Of course, I do,” you giggled. “How could I not. You are smart and brave and kind. You are so loyal to those you care about and that’s what I love about you. Plus, you are an amazing kisser.”

Ron smiled at that. He laughed along with you. Gently, he brought a hand up to your face.

“You think I’m a good kisser?” he seemed to like this question as there was even a smile in his tone. He pulled you closer to him by wrapping his other arm around your waist. His lips hovered over yours. You felt his warm breath fan out along the bottom of your face making your stomach fill with butterflies. You brought your legs on to his lap to get even closer to him.

“The best,” you said. Your chests were pressed together filling you with warmth from head to toe. You closed your eves as you felt his lips press against yours. It was a perfect moment. Your tears mixed together. You could taste them as he pulled you closer to him.

“I love you,” Ron said after you pulled away. Even though you were out of breath, you laughed just a bit.

“I love you too, Ron,” You said. You kissed him again.

Whatever insecurities and jealousy Ron had poured out of him. You two were in a world all your own.

[takingcourage]

Additions: Part 2

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 3,700

Summary: During their first morning at home, the kids start settling in and Jaime and Arden get their first taste of parenting.  

Note: Based on my drafting and outlining, I anticipate that this series will be 6 full parts (give or take one) and a brief epilogue. I should be able to post at least an update a week from here on out -- hopefully more, if editing and polishing go smoothly. 

I also wanted to include a quick note about content. As the story progresses and you get to know more about the kids, you’ll see that they’ve experienced a fair share of difficulties. Although I ultimately want this series to be a hopeful and uplifting read, I also don’t want to be naive in the way I deal with their upbringing. If you have any concerns about the way I’ve portrayed any elements of this story, please tell me. I’d much rather correct my mistakes than make a further mess of things. 

Anyway, happy reading! 

June, 2027

Arden woke early, not quite believing that she’d actually slept through the night. As she consulted the phone on her nightstand, she felt Jaime stir at her side. When his imploring hand reached out to caress her hip, she flipped over to face him. 

“It isn’t even daylight,” he urged, voice thick from sleep. “We could go back to sleep.” 

She snuggled up to him, cool nose nuzzling his shoulder. “I don’t want them to get up before we do. And I forgot to ask last night if they like pancakes.” 

He chuckled and lowered his face to kiss her hairline. “They’ll be here next Saturday too.” 

Arden’s fingers teased the patch of hair on his chest, her voice growing quiet at the intimation. “But you know how important it is for us to be consistent. It’s their first full day here and I want to start things off right. Plus, it’s tradition.”

Jaime buried his face in her hair, his lips providing assurances before he ever gave voice to them. “We’ll start plenty of new traditions as a family of five. If they don’t like pancakes, we’ll find other routines to get into.” 

Wiggling even closer, she basked in the remnant of sleep warmth that lingered between their sheets. On any other day, she’d have been tempted to stay there until some outside force pulled them both from bed, but she was far too full of thoughts on this morning to lose herself in such amusements. 

“And I can almost guarantee that they’ll like pancakes.” 

She giggled into his ribs. “Probably so. All right, I’m getting up now.” With a slight groan, she pushed herself away and left the bed. Entering the bathroom, she heard the telltale rustle of blankets as her husband joined her. 

“It may be a little early to start on breakfast, but we can go drink some coffee while we wait for them to get up,” he suggested, bypassing her at the double-wide vanity. 

“It’s never too early for coffee.” 

Jaime shook his head and stepped into the shower with a grin. “I’m enabling your addiction, aren’t I?”

She cocked a brow, but didn’t dignify the comment with further response. Instead, Arden made her way to the dresser and set about choosing an outfit for the morning. The options were still sitting at the foot of their bed when Jaime emerged from the shower, hair dripping onto her bare skin as he leaned over her to take a look. 

“I didn’t figure this part out before,” she admitted, rotating her face so she could see him. “Do I put on lounge pants or real clothes? I want them to know that we’re down-to-earth, but I don’t want to look like a slob. We’re supposed to “model good choices” and all of that.” 

He hugged her tightly, and though she squirmed automatically against the loose droplets of water that transferred to her skin, it didn’t take long for her to relax into his continued touch.

“You’ll be modeling good choices no matter what, babe. Before you know it, you’ll be back to work and long gone by this time most mornings. Besides, I think our Saturdays now are for lounging around and enjoying family time.” 

“Okay.” 

Arden took the advice gratefully, slipping her jeans back onto the shelf in her closet. She pulled on the drawstring sweatpants she’d selected, subconsciously checking to make sure they hadn’t gotten too wrinkly in the days they’d spent sitting in her drawer. 

“Ready?” came his quiet question minutes later. 

“Can I have a kiss first?”

He gave in, and the easy motion bolstered her strength. “We’ve got this, Arden.”

The relative darkness of the house meant that they had to navigate by memory. As they crept down the stairs, Arden had to suppress the feeling that they were some strange variety of burglar -- tiptoeing and avoiding all excess noise in their own home. On reaching the kitchen, Jaime flipped on a single light and withdrew the bag of grounds from the cupboard.

No sooner had Arden turned on the sink to fill the pot than footsteps creaked on the stairs. Their daughter appeared in the kitchen doorway moments later.

“Morning, Sophia.” Jaime gave her a welcoming smile as he folded back the top of the package of coffee. 

“Good morning,” Arden echoed, briefly taking in the girl’s appearance.

“Good morning,” came the tentative response. One hand raised to brush the neatly-parted hair behind her ear. The other slipped into the pocket of her jeans. 

Why am I so awkward? Just say “good morning” back like a normal person. 

The errant thought wrenched Arden’s heart, and she nearly dropped the pot of water balanced between her hands. Trying not to stare at the girl before her, she shifted it to the counter. She’d just decided to offer the child some coffee when Sophia spoke again.  

“Sorry,” she breathed, so cautiously that the words were almost a whimper. “I’m really bad at sleeping in new places and I woke up super early. I can go back to my room if that’s what you want.” 

Exchanging a quick glance with Jaime, Arden took a step toward the doorway. “Only if you want to. We weren’t sure what time you were used to eating breakfast, so we thought we’d come down and start with some coffee until you were all awake. Do you want some? We’d love to have you join us, even if you don’t want any.” 

In the months leading up to the placement, Arden had expected that interactions with their children would come as naturally her interactions with guests on the show – that all the right words would fall from her tongue at all of the right times. In the past eight years, she’d grown accustomed to the easy confidence she felt with her on-set persona. 

Her parent persona seemed incredibly stilted by contrast. Talking with her daughter was more like rehashing a script than anything genuine. She could practically feel herself checking off the familiar reminders. 

Be nurturing. When possible, let the child make decisions for herself. Include the child in normal family routines. 

Swallowing hard, she wondered how long it would take before she stopped second guessing her responses to everything. 

Sophia offered the shadow of a smile, tugging her hand from her pocket with no small degree of difficulty. “I like coffee.”

Arden’s brows scrunched. “Do you like it black?”

The girl couldn’t hide her impulse of disgust at the question, mouth souring at the thought of the bitter liquid. “Ugh, no.” Seeming to catch herself, she amended, “I can’t drink it like that.”

“Oh, good,” Arden sighed with relief. “Neither can I.” With renewed purpose, she opened the fridge and searched for the various bottles of creamer she knew resided on the shelves. Finding them, she ushered Sophia over for a look. “Do any of these sound good?”

Sophia squinted at the bottles she indicated, lifting her hand again to confirm that the hair was still tucked behind her ear. 

Arden gave her space, careful not to stare when it was so clear that she wasn’t ready to meet her eyes. 

But avoiding her face was hard. Those features had been seared on her memory for the better part of the past year. Seeing them before her now, she was struck by how notably they’d changed since September’s filming. The clear skin that she’d had in the initial video was now marked with a smattering of acne across her hairline, and her round cheeks had hollowed considerably over the course of the school year. 

She’s hardly a child at all, Arden realized with a sense of alarm. We’re going to have a teenager in the house in less than a year. I don’t think we’ve spent time around teenagers since we were teenagers. What have we done? There’s so much research I’ll have to do for–

As her thoughts began to spiral, Sophia’s voice dragged her out of the vortex. 

“Ca– May I try the hazelnut?”

Still trying to settle her mind, Arden retrieved the creamer she’d requested, along with the gallon of milk for herself. “If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to try any of the others.” She knew the response was delayed, but at least it felt better than not saying anything at all. “I like to switch things up now and then, so I usually have a few to choose from. Jaime doesn’t like anything in his at all,” she offered conspiratorially, placing the of bottles on the counter. “It’s gross, but he refuses to drink it any way other than black.” 

Jaime jumped in to defend himself, and soon the three of them were seated around the dining room table, mugs in hand. 

By the time the boys surfaced more than an hour later, they were just starting in on their second pot. 

“Ew, yuck,” Will announced on entering. “Coffee is dis-cuss-ting.” The word was drawn out, lisped over a pair of missing incisors. 

Alex elbowed him and traded a look with his sister. 

Jaime topped off Arden’s mug and passed her the sugar jar knowingly. “Well, we’ve got plenty of coffee if you happen to change your mind.” 

“I won’t,” Will promised, still rubbing his injured side. Taking a large step away from his brother, he found the empty seat at Sophia’s side. 

“How about you, Alex? Coffee?”

The boy’s tangled mop of hair shook vigorously. 

“All right. What about pancakes?” Jaime offered instead. 

I told you they’d want them, he told Arden when a round of nods circled the room.

“I can help make pancakes,” Sophia volunteered, pushing her empty coffee mug to the center of the table. 

“That’d be great,” Jaime agreed. “Do you like them with blueberries?”

Sophia looked at her brothers, discomfort evident in her puzzled expression. “I’m not sure. I don’t think we’ve had them like that before.” 

“I don’t like raisins,” Will chimed in. 

Arden’s face must have displayed her confusion at the younger boy’s admission. 

“We ate a lot of raisins with our last foster family,” Sophia offered by way of explanation. “He didn’t like them.”

Alex grumbled something under his breath. 

Sophia shot a warning gaze as she passed by his chair. “As long as they’re not raisin pancakes, we should be fine.” She stepped through the archway and stood attentively. 

“I’ll make some both ways, just so we’re safe.” Jaime retrieved a mixing bowl from the cabinet, then set about gathering dry ingredients. 

“You’re the one making them?” Their daughter’s voice cracked with the question. “I mean, I don’t mean that in a rude way. I just thought she was going to…” The girl’s wide eyes scanned the back he’d turned to her. He’s a nice guy. I’ll be okay. 

Arden felt like the wind had been knocked out of her as she watched the scene unfold. She knew a fair bit of Sophia’s history, and she’d picked up a handful of nonverbal cues when they’d visited the kids before, but no proof was as stark as what she was seeing and hearing this morning. 

A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. The thought of Jaime being anything other than trustworthy was ridiculous. Anyone who’d known him longer than thirty seconds could tell he was a man of impeccable character. Sophia was probably safer in the kitchen with him than she could be with any other person in the world. 

But she doesn’t know that, Arden reasoned. She’s been hurt before and trust takes a long time to build. 

Resolved, but somewhat deflated, she passed the threshold. 

Sophia visibly relaxed at her presence. 

“Do you want to get the eggs from the fridge?” Arden asked with a reassuring smile. “How many do we need, Jaime?”

“Today? Let’s start with three and see where that gets us. I haven’t made this many in a long time. It’ll take a while to cook them all,” he chattered on amiably. 

Arden caught Will’s restless squirming from the corner of her eye. “Do you boys want to go and play for a while or stay in here and wait with us?” The idea of keeping all three of them entertained between now and breakfast was a little daunting. 

“Can I take Opie for a walk?”

“Sure!” she replied instinctively. 

Panic flared across her consciousness as she realized her mistake. I can’t just leave Sophia alone with Jaime. And I’m not letting a seven-year-old go walking through the neighborhood by himself. 

Unless Alex wanted to stay and help too, splitting up was probably a terrible idea. 

Please volunteer to help, please volunteer to help. 

Alex continued staring at the grain of the table, fiddling with the collar of his pajama shirt.

Jaime met her eyes across the room. His quizzical brow quickly cleared in understanding. “Alex, would you mind helping too? I’ve got a perfect job for you.”  

It looked for a moment as though he was going to grumble at the request, but his face soon reset and he marched into the kitchen without complaint. Sophia’s calm demeanor assured her that they’d made the right decision. 

Thank you, she mouthed over the back of the boy’s head. Jaime smiled his response. 

Turning her attention to their youngest, she found him already petting the dog in the hallway. “I’ve got the leash here. Do you want to put it on?” 

Will’s bright eyes lit at the suggestion. 

Arden passed the cord over, watching closely as he clipped it onto Opie’s collar.  “He likes you,” she informed him with absolute certainty. “And he’s going to be so excited to have someone new to take him on walks.” 

The boy beamed at her, tongue visible in the spaces between his missing teeth.  She’d once thought that Jaime was the only person on earth whose smiles could stop her heart, but she recognized the distinct patter in her chest. For entirely different reasons, this child already had her wrapped around his finger. 

She was stirred from her musings by the sensation of a small face rubbing against her shin. Jinx strolled by, pausing momentarily to sniff the length of leash that dangled on the floor. 

“Can Jinx come for a walk too?”

Arden giggled, catching the cat’s derisive tail flicking even if she didn’t hear her thoughts. “I don’t think she’d like it very much. She really just wants to sleep and look out the window these days.” 

“Is she old?”

“She’s older than Opie is.” 

“Can we get a new cat for her to play with?”

“Maybe someday,” she answered noncommittally. Saying no to this boy was going to be an incredible test of willpower. 

With a quick wave toward the kitchen, they were ready to go. The morning had hardly started, and Arden already felt that at least one potential crisis had been averted. Repeating Jaime’s earlier affirmation, she followed Will out onto the lawn. 

We’ve got this. 

_____

July, 2027

Arden was’t sure when she’d been more relieved to pull into the garage and put her car in park. All she’d been able to think about since leaving was getting back to their kids, and the view of silhouettes through the front window had made her impatience all the more palpable. 

She practically flew through the adjoining door and into house. 

This was the first day that they’d needed her dad and stepmom to help fill in the gaps between schedules, and she’d be lying if she said that the arrangement had left her feeling easy. She had nothing against either one of them, but guilt had been gnawing constantly for the two hours she’d been gone. 

These were their kids. Their responsibility. Turning those duties over to others -- even family -- filled her with trepidation. 

“Mommy!” Will leapt from the couch before she’d even fully made it through the entryway. 

“Hey, guys!” she returned his enthusiasm, pulling him tight for a hug. His arms lingered at her waist a little longer than necessary, but she couldn’t help reveling in the affectionate show. Knowing that her desire to see him was reciprocated was extremely gratifying. When she glanced up, Alex’s eyes were on her.

Traitor. 

Her mouth ran dry at the older boy’s thought. It wasn’t the first time she’d been privy to hints that he was uncomfortable with Will’s quick attachment, but it was easily the most incriminating thing she’d overheard in the five weeks they’d spent together. 

“How’s your day been?” she asked Will, trying to push Alex’s response from her mind. 

“Good. Knock knock.”

“Oh, I love my welcome-home jokes.” With a cheesy grin, she set down her work satchel and gave the boy her full attention. “Okay, ready. Who’s there?”

Will’s features danced with excitement, the excess energy coming out as tiny shuffling steps across the hardwood floor. “Lettuce.” 

With a giggle, Arden complied. “Lettuce who?”

“Lettuce in, we’re cold out here!” Having recited the punchline, he gave a triumphant hop into the air.

She treated him to a breathy laugh, catching her father’s smile out of the corner of her eye. “That’s a good one.” Stretching out a calming hand to grasp his elbow, she asked, “Where’d you learn it?”

Will pointed to Harry, still seated on the couch with a pile of books on the cushion next to him. 

“He’s been reading them to me for the past hour,” Harry confirmed. “This one has a whole section in this one about vegetables.” His dubious look was reflected in his tone.  

“Oh yeah! There’s one about radishes! Can I tell it?”

Although she continued to engage with Will’s babbling, Arden’s eyes drifted to the other child in the room. Alex was still scribbling away in his sketchpad, the papers angled close to his chest so that no one could see the resulting artwork. 

What is it that’s going on in that head of yours? she wondered, feeling the faint furrow of her brow. But no answering thoughts met her question.

Bringing her conversation with Will to a close, she wandered into the dining room to find her daughter and stepmother engaged in one of Julie’s trademark pastimes. 

Jewelry making had always struck Arden as a remarkably fiddly way to fill one’s hours, but she couldn’t help admiring the strand Sophia was stringing together from the colorful array of seed beads strewn across the table in bags. 

She sat across from the table’s two occupants, eyes glazing at the repetitive motion of Sophia’s nimble fingers. “Those look amazing,” she said, considering the small assortment of bracelets and necklaces piled on the other side of the table. “Do you mind if I look?”

Sophia’s eyes met hers momentarily as she shrugged. “Go for it.” 

Arden looped a finger through a prominent chain and pulled the collection toward her. 

“Julie told me I could use her beads to make some back-to-school jewelry,” she explained, keeping a tight hold on the end of the wire as she searched for the next bead in sequence. “Do you want me to make something for you too?”

Arden’s breath hitched at the suggestion, and her response came slowly. “I would love that. You remember that dress you helped me pick out at the mall last week?” At the girl’s nod, she continued. “I’d been thinking about pairing it with a necklace that has some deeper greens…maybe some blue in there too? I’ll leave it up to you.”

With an approving smile, the other woman entered the conversation. “I’ve got lots of beads in those colors. If there aren’t any here that you like, I’ve got plenty more at home.”

“Thanks, Julie,” Arden expressed gratefully. “And thanks again for coming over this afternoon. You really helped us out.”

“We’re happy to do it anytime.” She selected a pair of pliers from the tools before her and cinched the clasp on her bracelet. “How was your interview?” she asked as she draped the piece over her wrist. 

Rolling a bead between her fingers, Arden considered the question. “I think it went well. We’ll have to match what this new group said against the rest of our records, but I we may have finally found the missing link.”

“It always sounds so much like you’re doing detective work.” 

“Sometimes it feels that way too,” she admitted with a half smile. “I just like to get to the bottom of a good story.” 

“You certainly have a knack for it.” Bracelet donned, she rose from the chair. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

Seizing the opportunity, Arden shifted to the end of the table nearest her daughter. “Speaking of getting to the bottom of things, can I ask you something?”

Curious eyes glanced at her before returning to project between her hands. “What?”

“Alex seems like he’s in a weird mood today. Do you know if everything’s okay?”

Sophia reached for a new bag of beads, her forehead scrunching in contemplation. “He’s always like this at the end of summer. I think he’s just upset that he has to go back to school soon. He hates it.” 

“Do you think there’s anything we can do to make him feel better about it?”

“Eh, not really.” 

“Is there something specific about it that he hates?”

Raising her shoulders slightly, Sophia answered, “He hates homework and classes...kinda everything, really.” 

 “Okay.” Arden relaxed against the back of the chair. “We’ll see what we can do about homework and classes and...everything, then.” After a pause, she added her thanks. 

“Welcome.” Holding the strand to the light of the window, she took a better look at the work she’d done. Apparently satisfied, she placed another bead before sharing her thoughts further. “I don’t get it, but he really does hate everything to do with school.” 

Arden had seen comments to that effect in Alex’s case file, but hearing it from Sophia’s lips was still unsettling. Based on his behavior and the thought she’d overheard before, she was starting to have the sneaking suspicion that his agitation was being caused by something more than just school. 

She wasn’t going to stop investigating until she knew just what that something was.