#nearly everyone in my family was the complete and total opposite they told me i wasnt actually a guy they told me i never would be to them

[ratgingi]

thinking abt the fact that every doctor and therapy place ive gone to around here has asked what my preferred name and pronouns were righr off the bat amd i might just cry

[ray-ray-writings]

Actually Pretty Funny-Technoblade

Hello! This is a platonic!brother!Technoblade x fem!reader and a hinted Niki x fem!reader. I made the reader female since the request was the reader coming out to Techno as a lesbian. I hope that you enjoy!

Not in the dreamsmp but also isn’t real life. This is a Sleepy Bois inc fic where Techno, Wilbur, Tommy, and reader are all siblings with Phil being their father. 

Warnings: Mentions of skipping meals

Like this and want more? Check out my masterlist here!

Y/N opens up to her big brother as to why she has been avoiding her other brother and his friend.

Y/N’s POV

I let out a sigh as I flopped face first down on my bed. For the past few days, I’ve been spending a lot of time in my room after school. Why? Well thanks for asking, ambiguous voice. My brother Wilbur has been bringing his friend Niki for the past week and a half. The two had been assigned to work on a project together and they found it easier to work at our house because of the close proximity to the school. So the two would spend hours sitting at the kitchen table working on their project, talking and laughing at the jokes they made with one another and I couldn’t be around it.  But not for the reason that most would think….

Many would think that I couldn’t be around the two because I didn’t like Niki. But it’s really quite the opposite. I like Niki. I mean, really like Niki… Really really like Niki… I have a giant crush on Niki. That’s why I can’t be around the two. I either get so jealous that it makes me feel sick or I make a complete fool of myself because I can’t handle Niki smiling at me. I haven’t told anyone this. Not even my brothers. No one knows how I feel and I would like to keep it that way. I love my brothers and I know they’re very supportive of the LGBTQ+ community, but I can’t help but fear that they’ll tease me or look at me differently and I don’t want anything to change. 

So I decided to just hide myself away from all of it. If I don’t acknowledge my feelings, do they really exist? If I hide away in my room, nothing can get out and no one can find me out. I shouldn’t have to do this much longer, the project should be done soon, maybe even tonight. Maybe tonight will be the last time Niki and Wilbur will sit at the kitchen table laughing over how dumb their teacher is. I sure hope so. 

I was interrupted from my self-pity party by a knock on my door. Letting out another sigh, I rolled onto my back and sat up, “Yeah?” The door swung open and I was greeted by the sight of my blonde haired brother. “What?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow. Tommy almost never knocks before coming in so I was a bit surprised. “Dadza is letting us get pizza to celebrate Wilbur and Niki finishing their project. What kind do you want?” Tommy asked, pushing hair out of his eyes. 

My eyes widened slightly at the question. I was right, tonight was the last night that she would be over. But the way that he phrased the question left me with one of my own, “Is Niki staying for dinner?” Tommy rolled his eyes at my question. “Of course she is, idiot. It wouldn’t be a celebration of them finishing without her. Now what do you want?” He pressed. “Oh… Umm..” I stuttered. This had never happened before. Niki never stayed for dinner. Of course Phil made sure she knew she was always welcome, but she didn’t accept the offer. She would always say she had to get home to Ranboo and make sure he hadn’t burned down the house. This always allowed me to fly under my family’s radar. I would go to my room and come down for dinner, claiming that I had a lot of homework and didn’t want to get distracted. Everytime they all bought it. Now what am I supposed to do?

“Umm. Actually, I’m not that hungry right now so I’ll just skip out. Thanks though Tommy.” I smoothly lied to my little brother. At least I thought I was smooth, but Tommy remained in my doorway with a cocked eyebrow and hands now on his hips. “You’re not hungry… For pizza? One of your all time favorites? Yeah I don’t believe you…. Are you skipping meals again? Do I need to go get Techno?” Tommy questioned. My heart began pounding. “No!” I blurted, standing up. I cleared my throat before responding once more, a lot calmer now. “No. No you don’t need to get Techno. I’m not skipping meals. I’m just not hungry.” For a moment, Tommy actually seemed to believe me. But then out of no where, my stomach let out a really loud growl. 

Tommy and I stared at each other for a long while. I silently begged him to not do what I knew he was about to do. If Techno came in here, I knew I would have to spill everything. For some reason I couldn’t lie to my pink headed brother. He always knew how to get me to tell him what he needed to hear. “Tommy,” I whispered, “Please don’t-” “TECHNO!” He screamed, cutting me off. Tommy bolted out of my room and down the hallway toward Techno’s room. I heard Tommy begin to pound on Techno’s door as he yelled his name. In a panic, I rushed forward and slammed my door shut. I then rushed back to my bed and crawled under the blankets, bringing them up to cover my face. 

Tommy’s screams stopped and it was silent. The calm before the storm. A rhythmic knock sounded against my door once more. I didn’t answer, hoping that maybe they would just go away if I didn’t respond… I knew better than that though. After a few moments of silence, I heard the door creak on it’s hinges letting me know it had been opened. It’s moments like this where I silently curse Phil for not letting me have a lock on my door. There was a small click as the door was shut once more. Footsteps echoed through my room and when they stopped, a pressure dipped my bed down as that same person sat next to me. 

The tension in my room was extremely thick as we waited for the other to speak first. I was surprised by the blanket being pulled off of my face. My eyes quickly adjusted as I stared at my brother’s stoic expression, “Hello Technoblade” I greeted softly, looking away from his eyes. “Hello Y/N… Would you like to explain to me why Tommy nearly busted down my door to tell me that you're skipping meals again.” I rolled my eyes and adjusted myself so that I was now sitting up and resting against the headboard, “Because he’s a snitch that can’t keep his mouth shut” I huffed, looking everywhere but my brother. Techno let out a sigh and moved so that he was now sitting criss-cross on my bed. I felt a hand underneath my chin and my head was slowly moved so that I had no choice but to look at Techno. “You want to try again?” He prodded softly. 

I took a deep breath before letting it out and swallowing harshly, “I can’t be around her.” I admitted softly. Techno’s face morphed into confusion, “Niki? Why? Has she been mean to you? That’s really surprising to hear, she’s usually a total sweetheart! I’ll talk to her and let her know-” “No” I cut him off. “No, it’s not that at all… I can’t be around her for another reason…” I trailed off. Techno was still confused, “You’re going to help me out Y/N. What other reason?” I took another deep breath before finally answering, “I like her. I really like her Techno. I’m either sick with jealousy at what her and Wilbur have or I fumble and embarrass myself in front of her… Techno… I’m a lesbian.” I admitted, closing my eyes tightly, not wanting to see his reaction. 

He was silent for a while. I was about to speak again but was cut off by arms being wrapped around my shoulders. Techno pulled me into a tight hug, pressing me close to his chest. On instinct, my arms wrapped around him, my hands clutching the back of his shirt. All the emotions I had been bottling up for the past week and a half came crashing down. Tears began slipping out of my eyes as small sobs choked their way out of my mouth. Techno simply held me closer and began rocking back and forth, smoothing my hair down with one hand and the other rubbing up and down my back in comfort. 

After a few minutes, my tears and sobs came to a stop. Techno tilted his head down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “Thank you for telling me,” He murmured against my hair. I sniffed and let out a hum, “Yeah… I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” Techno pulled back and gave me a stern look, “Don’t apologize okay? You weren’t ready to tell me and that’s okay. No one is entitled to information that you’re not ready to tell.” I processed his words and nodded, “You’re right,” I croaked, my throat raw from sobbing. Techno let out a laugh in triumph, “Always am kiddo. I always am.” 

The two of us sat in comfortable silence for just a moment before Techno spoke again, “I just want to let you know that this changes nothing. You’re still my little sister that I love very much. Just now, instead of beating up your boyfriends, I’ll have to have civil conversations with your girlfriends.” His words caused me to giggle. The thought of Techno gearing up to fight the first boy I bring home only to open the door and find a woman. I giggled more as I pictured him quickly hiding his weapons and ushering the girl to the table and questioning them. “You know Techno, you’re actually pretty funny.” I giggled, shaking my head. A huge smile graced Techno’s face as he fist pumped in the air. “A lesbian refering to me as ‘actually pretty funny’? I’ve won life. Poggers!” I couldn’t help the laughter then burst from my lips at the sight of my pink headed brother fist pumping to me telling him he’s funny. Techno joined in on my laughter, causing me to laugh harder. 

After our laughter died down, Techno stood up and offered me his hand. “Come on. Let’s go get some pizza.” Without even stopping to think, I took his hand and let him lead me downstairs to the kitchen. “There you two are!” Dadza greeted with a warm smile. Everyone was seated at the kitchen table, pizza boxes spread out in front of them. I didn’t realize that enough time had passed to where they were able to order and get the pizza. “Y/N your pizza is right there and Techno yours in next to hers.” aid, pointing to the two empty spots. Techno was quick to sit down and begin eating. 

I took my seat next to Techno and Niki across from me. “Hey Y/N!” Niki greeted with a bright smile. “Hey Niki,” I greeted her back with a shy smile. “I felt like I haven’t seen you much this past week! How have you been?” She questioned, setting down her slice of pizza. “I’ve been good. How about you?” I asked back. “I’ve been good too! Hanging out with your brother has been fun, but it would have been better if I was able to see your face every once in a while.” Her words caused my face to flush a deep red. “Maybe we could hang out, just you and me sometime?” She offered, getting a little shy now. I glanced around at the table and found three shocked faces and one smirking. I cleared my throat and nodded enthusiastically, “I would love that, Niki.” I claimed with a smile. Niki smiled sweetly back at me before going back to eating her pizza causing me to also go back to my pizza. 

There was a silence that fell over the table as the four guys stared at us. “What’s the matter?” I asked in general to the four. Wilbur, Tommy, and Phil seemed to shake out of their surprise and all murmured “nothing” before all going back to munching on their pizza and having a casual conversation. I let out a breath of relief. I knew that I would have to address what just happened after dinner, but for now I was off the hook. I allowed myself to look over to my oldest brother, who was shoving his pizza in his mouth. When his eyes met mine, he gave me a bright smile and a sly wink causing me to giggle and smile back at him. Perhaps it’s a good thing I can’t lie to my pink headed brother sometimes… Sometimes. 

There you go! I really hope that you enjoy! If you did, please be sure to leave a like!

[ace-nlis]

How they met you & fell in love

a/n: This is the first time I decided to actually write something with the intention of posting it. I hope that whoever reads this enjoys it. I'm sorry if I've misspelled anything, English isn't my first language. I hope I did well for my first writing post >.<

WARNINGS: none apart from slight violence. Female reader. Cussing.

Otherwise; fluffy content.

(Y/n) - Your name

(L/n) - Last name

Like or repost if you enjoy <3

Akaashi:

When you first met him, you thought he was a pretty boy with a resting bitch face. He is an extremely straight forward 'say it how it is' type of person and you respected him for that because it isn’t always easy to just speak your mind upfront in this day and age. He didn’t really look all that friendly or approachable, but since you were friends with Bokuto you just had to suck it up and stick around. It was pretty awkward talking to him or even just being around him at first, until you realized that his exterior was an act and he’s a total softy when he isn’t trying to call Bo out on his bullshit. You found him to be an intriguing person, but also rather intimidating. He was peaceful, he didn’t talk all that much and kept to himself like a true introvert. You were the opposite, more of an ambivert type. You tried your best to befriend him, but little did you know that friendship would spiral into something else along the line.

After a while of being friends, Akaashi got red in the ears in your presence. He was easily flustered around you, and the both of you often tended to flirt and bicker as if it was second nature. The two of you in a room together never got boring. Everyone around you could tell the two of you were head over heels for each other. You thought the opposite though, you felt that the friendship was never going to progress into anything more and that your crush was meaningless because nothing would come of it. After being friends for several months, nearly reaching the 1 year milestone, you eventually started to distance yourself.

You always thought the way Akaashi acted around you was purely just because the two of you had a close bond as friends, nothing more, nothing less. Akaashi on the other hand was devastated when he noticed the drastic changes in the close bond you both shared. He noticed that whenever he walked into a room, you’d disappear. Whenever he tried to call you, you wouldn’t answer the phone and make up some excuse that you were busy. The poor guy felt like his sanity was hanging on a thread and all he wanted was to speak to you, figure out what he did wrong and at least go back to how things once were. One day, he cornered you in an empty classroom. His eyes seemed frantic and he made sure to trap you between his arms and leave no room for you to escape so he could get answers. “(Y/n), are you okay? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?”

It seemed like the questions that were wracking his brain kept tumbling out, and in an overwhelmed panic she stopped him. The next thing the both of them knew was that her lips were pressed to his. At first his eyes were wide and body was stiff with shock. He didn’t know how to respond, and he firmly believed that this was a dream. In her mind, she thought she had just made the biggest mistake of her life because he wasn’t responding to it, he was just standing there and embarrassment slowly started to flood her. Before she could pull away from him, his arms slackened and his hands slid down the wall beside her, eventually placing them on her hips and pulling her body flush against his while kissing her back feverishly. When the two pulled away, they were out of breath and their eyes had a dazed look in them as they locked eyes. He leaned his head against hers and sighed in relief, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he kept his eyes locked on hers. I think that’s when you both knew that there was no way in hell you’d let go of each other at any point in time because it really felt like you were meant to be together.

Oikawa:

You knew of Oikawa Tooru but you never actually wanted to be acquainted with him. To you he sounded like a total sleazebag, a player that loved breaking female students’ hearts left and right. Unfortunately for you, you just so happened to bump into him on Valentines day after having to reject a poor freshman. When you bumped into Oikawa, he thought that you were another girl ready to confess to him due to the box of chocolates in your hands and a smirk instantly made its way onto his face as he reached over to take the box. Your immediate response was to slap his hand away. If looks could kill, he sure as hell would be more than 6 feet under because you were not up for anyone's bullshit. Oikawa gasped in shock and retracted his hand immediately with a pout. “Hey! I know you. You’re (L/n), hmm. Aren’t you a friend of Iwa? You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed about trying to confess to me. I always appreciate a new follower.”

A mix between a scoff and a laugh of disbelief made its way out of you as you immediately shoved the box of chocolates into your bag. “Wow, I knew you were vain but I guess I underestimated just how much. If you think I have any interest in an asshole like you then you must be smoking something. I have no interest in being one of your petty little toys that you hold on a string. I refuse to be one of your little puppets that follow you around to show my undying admiration for someone as shitty as you. No wonder he calls you Shittykawa. You truly are a self centered douche.”

Oikawa’s face was burning red with embarrassment as she pushed past him and continued going to her class. He was astonished, shocked beyond any words imaginary as he stood there and tried to process what had just happened. Eventually he was brought back to his senses when Iwaizumi smacked him over the head and told him to stop staring like a dumbass and get to practice. “Iwa, How do you know (L/n)?” He asked suddenly after they walked in silence for several minutes, which was very unlike Oikawa. “I’m in the majority of her classes and she lives a block away from me. Why?”

“She’s weird. I thought she was gonna confess and then she slapped my hand and called me a douche.” Oikawa said, his tone was completely flat for once and Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Yeah, well what do you expect? She has better things to do than fawn over you, Shittykawa.”

*Insert offended Oikawa noises here*

Needless to say, his first encounter with you was not exactly what he would’ve liked it to be. Slowly though he tried to fish more information out on you, he wanted to understand why you weren’t like the other girls who practically fell in love with him at first sight and why you were the way that you were in general. That meant that any time Iwaizumi would meet up with you at a park to study together or whenever you guys would spend any type of time together that Tooru would tag along. Teachers thought that you were having a blooming friendship with him though and much to your dismay you ended up getting partnered with him on a school project. You felt sick to the pit of your stomach because you truly didn’t want him to come to your home, but he kept insisting and you knew that there would be no point in trying to convince him otherwise so you gave in to his stubbornness.

You felt ashamed the moment he stepped through the front door, your parents were never home and you had to take care of your younger twin siblings. The house was a mess, and that was when he understood why you had such a cold persona around others. You wanted to distance yourself from people and push them away as much as possible in order for you to not have to go through the embarrassment of looking like a train wreck to everyone else in the circumstances that you were in as opposed to your usual well put together attitude. To your surprise though, he was patient. He jumped in on helping you clean, he even helped the twins with any homework questions they had in between working on your project together and showed no judgement. In fact, he gave you a look of understanding.

After that, you were able to tolerate him more and you allowed him to visit the twins more often while even bringing along his nephew for all of them to play together. He taught them how to play volleyball while also helping you in the kitchen when you needed it. He didn’t want to admit it, but he honestly fell in love with you because of how genuine you were. You guys flirted, but it was suffocating to him like all the other girls who flirted with him on a daily basis. He only had interest in you, and you bet your ass Iwa teased the shit out of him for it. Your project got an incredible score of 100% and the two of you celebrated together by playing some volleyball even though you were complete shit at it. He didn’t care though and had fun. You found yourselves hanging a lot more often, being around each other almost 24/7 and you even met his family at some point. They absolutely loved you, and so did he.

He tried to figure out how he’d confess to you, he wanted it to be special. He wanted it to be a moment the both of you would remember because he quite honestly couldn’t see him spending any of his time with any other girl apart from you. Of course he was extremely nervous and skeptical on how to approach it, it was a 50/50 chance of you liking him back. The thoughts left his mind when he heard your voice outside a local supermarket, asking someone to leave you alone and that immediately flipped a switch in his brain. He quickly tried to look for you and found you trying to tell some tipsy guy that you didn’t want anything to do with him to which he immediately went over with his hands tucked in his pocket.

“Hey (Y/n), everything okay?” he asked as he coldly stared at the man that had been harassing you. A quiet “Oh thank god” was whispered underneath your breath as you managed to force your way closer to Tooru. He immediately wrapped one arm around your waist and kept his eyes locked on the other older gentleman that had been bothering you. The guy smirked, “Oh nothing man, I was trying to have a chat with her and she got all bitchy. That’s all.” (Y/n) could feel his body language immediately became a lot more tense, but you quickly pulled at him and tried to evade the situation. “It’s not worth it, Tooru. Let’s just go, okay? We can get some milk bread and watch movies or something.”

“I don’t appreciate the way you talk about my (Y/n)-chan. In fact, I’d advise you to leave her alone before I make you regret even breathing the same air as her. Got that?” He spoke calmly as he gently nudged you out of the alleyway next to the store. “Hey, who the hell do you think you are? Huh? Can’t just take my woman like that, dude.” This is when you truly saw how angry Oikawa could get as all he did was throw a punch and the guy was down. You could only stare in shock at what had just unfolded in front of you. “If you ever talk about her like that again I swear I’ll make you regret you ever existed.” At that he tugged you along and when the two of you were a few blocks away you grabbed hold of his hand and inspected it. “You seriously didn’t have to go that far. I don’t care what a low life has to say about me, at least I don’t live in the streets and I’ve got a roof over my head.” He remained silent for a moment before latching his hand onto your wrist and pulling you into his chest. “I’d never let anyone do or say anything to hurt you. Remember that. I’m just sorry you had to witness me get like that. I’ll make it up to you though.”

“Oh? I think a date would be a pretty nice way to make it up to me since you insisted on calling me your (Y/n)-chan” you said, giving him a cheeky smile to which he could only reply with a teasing smirk. “Hm, seems only fair after I saved you as heroically as I did.”

“Whatever you say, douche”

*insert baffled Oikawa noises here*

[troubatrain]

sober - m. barzal (pt. six)

a/n: so after the hell week we all survived in the good ol’ USA my brain finally decided to let me actually write. tbh i wrote this about four times before i forced myself to just finish it and stop tweaking it.

Five

Mat’s kitchen looked like a tornado had run through it. The usually pristine, absolutely untouched kitchen of the young bachelor was getting more use in the twenty minutes Mat had been awake than it ever had. Truthfully, Mat wasn’t a morning person. Mat slept like a rock, and he thought there was nothing besides the fear of his coach that could get him up earlier than noon, but he was wrong. You had him up before eight, hoping if he could beat you to waking up you wouldn’t have a chance to sneak out on him. He did, opening his eyes to catch you snoring softly beside him. He laid there for a moment, his eyes on you because he almost in disbelief you actually stayed. It was a moment of peace, the complete opposite of the mess you’d both gotten yourselves into. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t debating how he was going to get someone to leave, he was figuring out how he was going to get you to stay.

Mat was an absolute whore, and he didn’t care one bit. Why should he? He was young, he was at the top of his game, and his ego got a little bigger everyday. He was just as guilty as you were when it came to his lack of commitment. Mat had never been able to be a good boyfriend, no matter how hard he tried - so he just stopped trying. His schedule wasn’t made for dating, and he never wanted to put the work in. You were different. Something clicked in Mat when he realized how enraged his body felt hearing DeAngelo talk about you the way he did. He was going to let it go, and in hindsight maybe he should have, but he didn’t want to. That protective feeling took over his body because it was too strong for him to shove back down before it got out.

Mat would have told you he loved you after that game, because he does, but he knew he was playing a dangerous game. The reality of what would happen if this was real scared him, but not nearly as much as he knew it had to scare you. You had something to lose, a life that Mat just wouldn’t be apart of. Mat wasn’t in a position to ask you to give that up, especially for someone who you weren’t even dating. Mat knew if he moved too quickly you’d get spooked and run away without giving Mat a second thought. He’d disappear from your memory like everyone before him.

Mat’s thoughts were broken by the sound of your feet padding into his kitchen, your arms wrapping around his waist while you pressed a kiss to his back, “Hi pretty girl.”

This was uncharted territory, the morning after. You’d always been an expert, leaving yourself enough time to sneak out and leave before anyone would notice you were gone. That kept your heart safe, free from the feelings that were present in this very moment. You couldn’t have left last night, slipping out of Mat’s bed and into a cab in the middle of the night, but something stopped you, “Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

“I thought I’d try to make you breakfast,” Mat admits, a smile on his face while he turned off the stove, eggs forgotten to look at you, “I’ll get better at it, I promise, breakfast can be my thing.”

“Your thing?” You muse, letting Mat gently push you onto the island, standing between your legs.

“Yeah, when we fall in love or whatever, I’ll make breakfast,” Mat chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“You’ve lost your damn mind Barz,” You sigh, leaning your head on Mat’s shoulder while you savored the last few moments of peace you were feeling. You were going to have leave his place, off to a four game road trip where Mat was free to fuck whoever he wanted.

Mat’s finger was gently gliding over your face, “If I’m crazy it’s because you made me crazy.”

“You were insane before I met you,” You defend not daring to open your eyes and meet Mat’s gaze, “And now you’re just annoying.”

“I don’t remember being annoying when you were begging me to fuck you last night,” Mat counters back, hands moving to your bare thighs, the warmth from his hands was a stark contrast from the cool counter, “If I’m correct it sounded something like Mat please.”

“Don’t push your luck Mat,” You threaten, his impersonation of you from the night before stopping almost immediately.

“Would I push it if I asked you to stay until my flight later?” Mat asks, eyes full of hope while he tries to hang onto the moment just a little bit longer.

“If you never talk about it again,” You nod, deciding that the damage was already done. You were so far gone a few more hours couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“We can talk about how fucking good you look in orange and blue though,” Mat teases, a grin on his face. You furrow your eyebrows, looking down and realizing just what shirt he had given you the night before. A bright white number thirteen in the corner, with an Islanders logo present on the front.

“Mat if you don’t take this off of me right this second.”

“You never have to ask me twice to take off your shirt babe.”

***

You leaned your head against the window of the private jet that definitely cost more for one flight than your entire salary, taking a deep breath and a break from the laundry list of emails you were due to answer. You were flying to St. Louis for the All Star Game, your plans of a week long vacation somewhere warm with some of the team and their significant others thrown out the door the second Chris stepped in for Panarin last minute. Not even two minutes later, Charlotte strutted over to your desk to tell you that without a need for someone to translate for Artemi, you were the new kid and that meant you had to suffer through the weekend while everyone else took their vacations. 

“At least pretend to be excited,” Chris mutters next to you, taking a break from his own reading and elbowing you in the side.

“It’s hard to be excited when everyone’s on a beach and we’re flying to Missouri in January,” You snark back, pulling your glasses off your face and rubbing your eyes.

“You either need to start sleeping or stop hanging out with that secret boyfriend of yours,” Chris jokes, but it struck a nerve with you.

Mat wasn’t your boyfriend. Mat. Wasn’t. Your. Boyfriend. He didn’t get to have all of you, because he didn’t deserve it - no man does. Nothing about the very small amount of vulnerability that he got to see after that game meant anything. You left that morning and he went on a four game road trip and the world spun on. You could stop whenever you wanted to, move on with some other dumb boy who didn’t care more about you in clothes than without. But did you want to? That was a debate you’d been having with yourself for days.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You grumble, gritting through your teeth. Technically, it wasn’t a total lie.

“So you are seeing someone!” Chris points out, as if your deliberate words were going to make it past him. Chris held most of the intelligence on the entire Rangers roster, and there was nothing that he didn’t pick up, “So, What's the deal? He doesn’t want anyone to know about you or you don’t want anyone to know about him.”

“It’s mutual,” You hum, sipping the coffee that had gone cold.

“Are you a sugar baby?” Chris questions, a cautious tone to his voice, “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with it or anything-”

“No I haven’t found a sugar daddy,” You roll your eyes, waiving Chris and sparing him the lecture that there’s nothing wrong with the idea at all, “We’re just in a limbo.”

“For what it’s worth,” Chris says, taking a deep breath before he finished his thought, “You seem happy, you haven’t snapped on Tony in almost a week.”

“Thanks Chris,” You laugh softly, popping a headphone back into your ear so you could finish up some work.

***

Mat was in absolute disbelief the moment he saw you step into the hotel lobby. You weren’t supposed to be in St. Louis, you were supposed to be on some island in a bikini making him wish he wasn’t good enough to be selected for the All Star game at all. Mat scratched his head for an answer as to why you didn’t mention the change of plans, but then the thing that he spent his entire roadie before he left for St. Louis entered his brain at full speed.

You’re not her boyfriend.

Mat owed you nothing, and you didn’t have to tell him anything you didn’t want to. Mat honestly knew about four things about you and all of them related to your job. He was dying to know everything, even the stuff that didn’t matter that much. Hell, Mat would’ve killed to see the inside of your apartment at this point. He just needed one thing, one thing that he could hold onto that you showed him that no one else got to see. He was sure he’d find it, especially after he finally got you to stay at his place, but now he was starting to think maybe he’d never crack you.

You were going to just avoid Mat like the plague. The hotel was swamped with players, their families, and any staff that had tagged along for the weekend. The city was still buzzing from last season’s Stanley Cup win and there was not a chance Mat wasn’t going to be busy all weekend, because Mat Barzal was an amazing hockey player. You hated to be reminded of it, because if you could have Mat feed you stupid compliments and never remind you of his job you’d be happy forever.

hotel sex is on the table

and you look fucking hot today

You roll your eyes, checking your phone while you were standing in line to check in. You look around the room, trying not to draw any attention to Mat who was giving you a shit eating grin from across the lobby. He looked good, a white button up tucked into suit pants that were doing his ass justice. You look at Chris, who was too engrossed in his own phone to even look back at you.

pretend like i don’t exist right now and we’ll talk

wanna play a game?

that didn’t go well for you last time Barzy

if i beat your buddy kreids tomorrow night you give me one night

you won’t

is that a yes?

fine

You turn around, giving Mat one last death stare to remind him you weren’t kidding on your plea to pretend you didn’t exist. Your job was important to you because you weren’t Mat. You weren’t going to get paid millions of dollars to play and then retire with a pretty penny in your pocket. You worked, and the stress of losing your job would definitely break you. Charlotte instilled fear in you like no other boss you ever had could, and if you got caught messing around with someone who played for another team while you were working she’d probably just fire you on the spot. Not to mention the heartbroken faces of your chosen family. Mat somehow existed in both a different and the same world as you. He understood your work life because it was so close to his, but he had his own work family and you had yours. No matter what, there would always be some sort of weird divide caused by that stupid rivalry. For now, it was just going to have to be something you’d worry about later.

***

You turned in the mirror of your hotel room, the lacy black lingerie set fit your body like a glove, and you were impressed with Mat’s taste given all he ever wore was sweatpants. You look in the corner of the room, the last piece of his little gift sitting in the box. Mat dropped it off earlier, a note on top telling you that when he inevitably smokes Chris in the faster skater competition he had something in mind. You weren’t surprised by his confidence, but you were surprised by the gift itself. Folded neatly in the box wasn’t just the lingerie, a bright blue and orange jersey was right underneath it, a shiny white number thirteen stitched into the back. You knew you didn’t have to wear it, because Mat wasn’t going to force you to do anything, but you were wet at just the thought of how animalistic Mat would probably get. You tossed on the jersey, throwing an even bigger sweatshirt and sweats over it before you snuck up to Mat’s floor- hoping Chris wouldn’t catch you leaving from the room across the hall.

You pull out the room key Mat gave you, sneaking into the door and locking it shut behind you. You slipped off your sweats, leaving you in nothing but the jersey and your panties.

“Fuck,” Mat dropped his phone from his hand the second you came into his view, “I didn’t think you’d wear it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” You muse, your confidence boosting while you strutted over to Mat. He had that effect on you, the ability to always make you feel like the sexiest woman in the world - even if you didn’t feel like were, “But then you beat McDavid.”

Mat pulled you between his legs while he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands toying with the jersey while he let the fabric slip through his fingers, “You look so fucking good in my jersey baby.”

“I’m proud of you Mat,” You purr into his ear, playing into Mat’s ego just a little bit. You were proud of him, and for the first time you wanted him to know. You pressed a kiss against his jaw, feeling his own breath hitch in his throat, “Can I show you?”

“Keep that jersey on and you can do whatever you want to me,” Mat admits, slipping his hand under the jersey and tapping your ass lightly.

“I’ll keep it on,” You giggle, pushing Mat on his back and getting to work. Your lips kissed down his chest with every button of his dress shirt you got undone, tossing it in the corner to be forgotten about until later. You unhooked his belt, leaving open mouth kisses just above his pants. You slid off his dress pants slowly, taking his boxers with them to let his cock spring free. Mat groaned at the sight, gathering your hair to pull it back for you.

“Wait,” Mat stops you, holding your hair back to stop you from putting your mouth on him. His finger traced your cheek, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read, “I just want to remember this, you look so beautiful right now.”

You could feel the heat rush your cheeks, Mat had called you to dozens of things but never once did the word beautiful ever slip through his lips, “You’re just saying that because I’m about to blow you.”

“No, baby, I mean it- fuck,” Mat groans, this thoughts halted by your mouth on his cock. His hips snapped up, hitting the back of your throat, “You’re so fucking good princess.”

You moan, hollowing your cheeks and gripping Mat’s thighs a little tighter, giving him the show you so desperately wanted. You head bobbed in a perfect rhythm, taking as much of Mat as your body could handle. Mat pushes your head back, taking a look at the line of spit that was still connected to his dick, your eyes were glassy and your throat was sore but Mat would keep you like that forever if he could, “Let me finish.”

“I’m in charge tonight,” Mat reminds you, the tone in his voice sent a chill up your spine. You knew Mat was rough, and a little demanding but he never crossed that line with you, “On your knees.”

“Like this?” You tease, sitting up on your knees to rile him up just a little bit more.

“More like this princess,” Mat stands behind you, gently pushing you down so your ass was in the air. He was quiet, bunching up his jersey so he could get a full view of the lingerie he went out and bought just for you, “Be good or I won’t let you cum pretty girl.”

Mat’s threat with a light smack to your ass, a moan escaping your lips. He slipped the black lace panties to the side, gliding one of his fingers against your folds while he pressed a kiss to your skin, “So wet for me already.”

“Only for you Mat,” The words tumbled out of your mouth, your eyes widening at your own confession.

Mat was thankful he was behind you, because if you saw the way his gaze changed from your words he’d never live it down. You looked so perfect, spread just for him. His jersey. His number. And in his own fantasy: his girl. He snapped himself back into reality, sliding into your pussy that was practically dripping in anticipation.

“Faster, fuck Mat please,” You whimpered out, trying to move yourself to get Mat to pick up the pace. He chuckled darkly, hips snapping back and forth until the only sound in the room was the string of curses leaving your mouth, “I’m close-”

Mat flipped you over before you could finish, his hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him, “Tell me this pussy is mine.”

“Fuck I’m yours Mat,” You breath out, locking your eyes with his while it felt like time froze around you, “I’m yours.”

“Look at me when you cum baby,” Mat urges, his hand still gripping your chin. He picked up his place, making use of his other hand around your clit, “C’mon princess just for me.”

Your pussy fluttered around him, Mat letting out a groan while he tried to hold onto this moment for just a bit longer. He looked down at you, catching your breath from your own high. You hand snuck down to his cock, pumping it slowly, “Cum on me.”

Mat nods, letting you work on his dick with your hands while he nibbled at your neck. He was going to mark you up, make you remember who you belonged to because he so desperately wanted it to be him. He spilled onto your pussy, head pressed into your neck while he came down from his own high. You both laid there for a moment, your hand gently stroking Mat’s back while you both took a moment to think about what just happened. Mat was possessive in a way he’d never been before, and you ate it up without a second thought - that had to mean something right?

“I need to get back to my room,” you whisper, afraid to break the comfortable silence.

“I know,” Mat nods, finally picking his head up, “Keep the jersey, you might need it one day.”

“Your stupidity is honestly astounding,” You joke, brushing his hair out of his face while Mat’s face turned into a pout.

“Can I take you on a date?” Mat breathes out, hoping he wasn’t reading this the wrong way, “No games, no funny business, let me take you out.”

Say no. Say no and never call him again.

“One date,” You agree against your better judgement, pushing Mat away and looking around the room to find your sweats that you snuck into his room in, “Better make it a good one.”

Mat smiles, teeth on full display while he watched you slide your pants back on, “I’m the best at everything Y/N don’t forget that.”

“Goodnight Barz,” You tease, giving him one more look before you left his room.

The elevator ride down was quiet, most of the hotel’s occupants already asleep or still out partying the weekend away. For your sake, you hoped Chris would be fast asleep like the grandpa he was. You rushed down the hallway, Mat’s jersey still hanging loosely off your frame while you looked in your hand for your room key. Your search was stopped by a throat clearing behind you. You jump, turning around to see Chris’s eyes boring into you.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

[beauvibaby]

I still love you – j.benn

a/n: Uh I totally didn’t proof read this sorry

• what happens when you find out your pregnant with Jamie’s baby after you’ve already broken up •

word count: 7.4K

You stared down at the test, feeling the nausea rise up your throat once again, your mind jumping back to a little over a month ago.

“We can’t do this, Jamie.” You sighed, staring at him from your spot on the opposite end of his living room, it was a mutual decision, it wasn’t going to be made with hard feelings, maybe had you both been less worried about what could happen, you would’ve been able to put in the effort–it’s not to say that you didn’t like him. You really truly did, a lot too. But it just wasn’t possible, both of you agreed. “I know.” He shrugged, both of you hiding the pain of this decision. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have one last good night.” He smirked at you, deflecting his emotions. And he was right, you did have one last good night.

Maybe too good.

In the heat of the moment, you’re guessing you both forgot about the condom, or you didn’t and there was a hole in it. No matter what happened, this was the result and you were having a hard time trying to figure out what to do. The positive results staring back at you, a feeling of happiness came over you–but at the same time, it made you terrified, this isn’t how you imagined you’d find out you were pregnant. Alone, in your apartment, at two am after you realized why you’d been sick for over a week. You sucked in a sharp breath, letting it out slowly, easing your churning stomach, a hand resting on it, subconsciously rubbing it. The thought of a false positive popped into your head, and you were shocked by how saddened you were at the thought, pushing those thoughts aside you forced yourself to go back to bed, mind racing a million miles a minute. Knowing first thing in the morning you’d be calling to schedule a doctors appointment.

The months flew, you didn’t know how to reach Jamie, you’d long ago deleted his number, in a drunken pity party two nights after you broke up, and social media was the only way you thought to try and reach him, but he never even read the message. It was a simple one, you didn’t disclose any information. “Can we talk?” Never seen, never responded too. Nothing. You’d watched the games, it gave you a feeling of closeness, why you longed for it, that you weren’t sure of. You blamed the hormones, wanting to not admit that you were missing Jamie, and maybe that on some level you wanted to be with him all this time, and to share this experience with him.

***

12 weeks.

You shakily held your phone out in front of you, waiting for your parents to answer the FaceTime call, you’d made the decision to keep the baby, even if it meant you were all alone, and it was finally time to tell your parents, a nervous smile on your face when they popped up on your screen. “Hi honey!” Your mom grinned, your dad smiling right beside her, “hi.” You spoke softly, “I have to tell you guys something.” Clearing your throat you sat up a little straighter, your dad eyed you suspiciously, “everything ok?” He questioned, his fatherly intuition tingling as his one and only daughter looked at him nervously. “Well, it depends on how you look at it, but I think it’s pretty good.” You laughed nervously, closing your eyes for a second before blurting out. “I’m pregnant.” Everyone fell silent, you peeked an eye open, seeing your parents staring at you, so still that you began to wonder if they froze on your screen. “Mom, dad?” You cringed, they came to their senses, “a grand baby!” Your mom shrieked, your dad slowly beginning to smile, before the question you were waiting for happened. “Who’s the dad?” Your father asked.

Your face fell for a moment, “Jamie.” You whispered, they knew who he was, they knew you dated, but they also knew you had broken up a while back. They put two and two together and assumed that you’d kept this information private for a while. “Oh, honey, does he know?” Your mom asked, shuffling in her seat, your dad looking blankly at you, unsure of how to be reacting, he was happy of course, a grandchild is something he’s always dreamed of, but he was angry at Jamie already, without even knowing why he wasn’t there. “I haven’t told him.” You admitted sheepishly, listening to them both go into a rant.

***

20 weeks.

You laid on the table, a gasp falling from your lips as you felt the baby kick against your stomach, the ultrasound tech looking at you with a smile, “you felt that?” She was in the middle of an ultrasound, she could see the baby moving, but you’d never felt them before. “Yes, oh my god.” You whispered, a grin coming over your face, she laughed softly, continuing the scan, “do you want to know the gender?” She asked, having her own grin on her face, you looked over at her, you had your friends around here with you, but you didn’t want to do a whole gender reveal party. So you nodded, “yes please.” You held your breath as she clicked a few times before turning the screen towards you, “it’s a girl.” She whispered, watching as you let out a gasp, this whole time you’d thought it was a boy. A feeling you had, but you were wrong apparently. “A girl.” You smiled, the rest of your appointment going smoothly, your baby girl having no health issues so far.

***

You were now 32 weeks pregnant, exactly two months away from having your baby girl. To say you were nervous was an understatement, you’d been working extra to save up, the nursery almost being finished, something you were immensely proud of yourself for tackling the project on your own.

The local shopping center has been a recent stop of yours, always thinking of something else you needed to pick up for the baby, who’s name you still hadn’t been able to decide. You tried to contact Jamie again, and again, but you became discouraged after four failed attempts, and the next thing you knew, you were nearly through your whole pregnancy, and the hockey season was over, Jamie would be going back to Canada to be with his family, at least, that’s what you thought. You huffed as you tried to get the baby sized tub into your already full trunk, not noticing the cart was rolling away until you turned to grab the next item– the last item, only a package of crib sheets, and the cart was already easily ten feet away from you. A small shriek fell from your lips as you started speed walking for it, seeing the way it was heading straight for an over price convertible, something you couldn’t pay to fix. “Oh, no, no!” You spoke to yourself, unable to run with your ever growing bump. “I’ll get it!” A guy went jogging passed you, grabbing it just before it could hit the car, you stopped in your spot, even from the back you could recognize him. Your jaw fell, you looked to the ground as he turned, pushing the cart back towards you. “Thank you.” You whispered, awkwardly looking up, Jamie was already staring at you. He went stiff, eyes stuck on yours, like always you could read them so well, he was shocked, maybe even a bit happy before he did a double take over your body.

“Y/N.” His eyes jumped between yours and the bump you were fully showing off in the snug fit maternity dress. “Jamie.” You whispered, taking a step towards the cart, seeing his knuckles turn white from his grip on the handle. “You’re–is it mine?” He asked bluntly, taking a step away from you, watching as you pushed the cart into the grass, taking the crib sheets and hugging them to your body. “First of all, you should know, I tried to contact you through social media, I didn’t have your number anymore.” You rushed, the guilt eating you alive. “Online?” He scoffed, “you tried to tell me you’re pregnant through Instagram?” His words were harsh, but his eyes blank. “Jamie, I’m sorry, I swear I wanted to tell you. I deleted your number after we broke up, I was upset, and I didn’t know what else to do.” You pleaded, staring him down, he looked to the sheets in your arms, studying them, it was easy to tell it was a girl, the pack being full of pink and floral fabric. He bit his lip, looking passed you, you glanced back, turning your body slightly, face falling when you saw Tyler, who you could tell instantly recognized you.

His eyes darted to your stomach, his eyes going as wide as they could as he turned back around and walked away to give you two space. “A girl?” Jamie finally spoke, stepping closer to you, a sniffled yes fell from your lips as you looked away. “I’m so sorry, I promise I wanted you to know. I didn’t want to take this or her away from you.” You explained to him, surprised when he reached out to wipe a tear from your cheek before retracting his hand. “I know, you wouldn’t do that.” He still sounded angry, which you couldn’t blame him for, but you were grateful he wasn’t completely losing it. This is an odd situation, there isn’t a guide book to how to handle this kind of information. “I have so many questions.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, a smile graced your face. “Well, if you want to give me your number again, we can catch up sometime.” You joked, hoping it wasn’t too soon, your feelings for Jamie rushing right back, like you hadn’t just been apart for seven months. “Are you free now?” He blurted, turning pink afterwards. “I was just going to go home and put my swollen ankles up on the couch, you’re more than welcome to come.” You spoke sheepishly, biting the corner of your lip. “I-Uh-are you sure? I don’t want to impose.” He stuttered over his words, you couldn’t help but let out a giggle, which turned into a string of laughter as Jamie stared at you curiously, “Jamie, you could never impose on me. You deserve all the time you want, it’s my fault you missed so much of this already.” You spoke through laughter that you were fighting to not turn into tears. “Let’s not blame anyone, ok?” He spoke softly, shoving his hands into his pockets, “um, I just have to drop Tyler off at his place, and then I can come by?” He raised an eyebrow, rocking on his feet as you let a tear slip. “Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “yeah that works.” You turned walking straight for your car, you were climbing into the drivers seat when Jamie jogged over to you, “gate code still the same?” He asked looking down at you.

Your breathing hitched the memory coming back instantly.

“A one month anniversary gift?” Jamie teased, shaking the small box you gave him, the only thing being inside was a note with the code to your apartment complex gate on it. You were tired of having to buzz him in all the time, and you trusted him more than you normally would trust a guy. He was different, he was kind, he cared. “Shut up and open it.” You rolled your eyes, going back into the kitchen suddenly embarrassed as he opened the box, he looked back up with a grin only to find you gone, he jumped to his feet and wandered into the kitchen, arms wrapping around your waist from behind. “That was cute, babe, and I’ll definitely use it.” He kissed your cheek, feeling you smile under his lips, “good.”

“Yeah, still the same.” With that you parted ways, you nervously driving home to clean whatever mess you left in the apartment, and little did you know Jamie was sitting in Tyler’s driveway, trying to process this information, while Tyler was insisting this was fate.

“It’s not fate!” Jamie snapped, glaring at his friend who sat in the passenger seat with a smug smile on his face, “ok, so what do you call seeing your ex who’s been trying to get a hold of you for months because she’s pregnant with your child? In a target parking lot no less!” Tyler rambled, giving Jamie a stern look, “exactly, it’s fate. Case closed. I know it’s a lot to handle, but there was always something special between you two.” He added, waiting for Jamie to speak. “We dated for barely two months, Ty.” Jamie grumbled, leaning back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face. “So? That’s plenty of time to know if you’re in love!” Tyler defended, laughing when Jamie went pink. “You are a terrible liar.” He snickered, calming himself down as Jamie looked over at him with wide, emotion filled eyes. “It’s a girl.” Jamie whispered, scratching at his beard, Tyler went silent, a happy smile pulling across his face. “Shit, man, you better hope she looks like Y/N.” Tyler teased, using it to hide his own emotions as well, “get out.” Jamie laughed, wiping at his eyes. “I gotta go over there before she thinks I’m bailing, I have so much to learn.” He mumbled, Tyler giving him a quick pat on the shoulder, “you got this, it’ll be fine.”

You paced in your living room, swollen feet and all, suddenly terrified that Jamie wasn’t going to show, how could you even think he would have? For all you know he could be thinking it isn’t even his, that you said it was for money. You rubbed your hands over your bump, your daughter extra active as your anxiety picked up, you took a deep breath, jumping when the door was knocked on. You gave the room one last look over before going to let him in, “hey.” You smiled softly, the familiarity of opening your door to see him staring back at you came rushing back and you had to ignore the ache in your chest from it. “Hey.” He repeated, looking beyond you and into the cozy apartment of yours that always loved to be in. “Oh, come in, sorry.” You awkwardly shuffled, shutting the door once he walked in, he didn’t know where to go so he kind of just stood in limbo, you rushed over to the fridge, pulling the last sonogram photo off of it, which was already aged so well, considering you don’t have anymore ultrasounds scheduled and you couldn’t spare the cash to go to a 3D place. “Here.” You handed it to him, watching as he grabbed it delicately, looking at the black and white photo in awe. He glanced up at you, his eyes scanning around the room, he could see little touches here and there for the baby, the most noticeable one being the car seat and stroller you had in boxes by the kitchen table. It hurt him to see all the things you had to do by yourself, all the things he should be here for, his mind wandered, suddenly wondering if you had a nursery set up for her, deep down he knew you did, because you were you and you were a planner.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. I really am, I feel terrible, please don’t hate me for not telling you.” You rushed your words, his immediate reaction was to step closer to you, “I don’t think I could ever hate you, Y/N. I’ll get over it, I just don’t want to miss anymore.” He assured you, resisting the urge to hug you, not wanting to push your boundaries. You nodded tearfully, “give me your hand.” You whispered, feeling her moving around, he didn’t hesitate to listen, watching as you placed it to the upper left side of your stomach, he furrowed his brows before he felt the kick. You watched the smile pull across his face, “oh my god.” He whispered, scrambling to set the sonogram photo down, placing his other hand there as well. He felt overcome by emotion, he couldn’t explain it, but he had zero doubts of this being his baby, he felt as if he had a bond with her already despite her not even being born yet. You watched him with tears in your eyes, finally getting to see a genuine reaction from him about this, he was happy, it was plain as day across his face. No doubts, nothing but pure happiness and excitement. “Tell me everything. I don’t care how long it takes, please, just make me feel like I’ve been here for all of this.” He sniffled, keeping his eyes on your stomach, where his hands still laid gently, worried if he put anymore pressure he’d hurt you. “We better sit down then.” You joked, finally getting his attention, he mirrored your expression, relief and happiness, with watery eyes. “We better.” He agreed, following you to the couch, where you spent the next two hours exchanging stories, although he didn’t speak much, a combination of processing the information and simply wanting to hear you speak for as long as possible.

After some time, the sun had started to set, Jamie caught you glancing out the window repeatedly, “I can leave now.” He assured you, but made no effort to move, if he was being honest he really didn’t want to leave, he wanted to be here even if there was nothing he could do to help you. “No, it’s fine.” You brushed him off, an idea popping into your head, “did you want to see her room?” You raised an eyebrow at him, he nodded eagerly rushing to his feet, extending his hands to help you off the couch. You gave him a grateful smile once you were up on your feet, “come on.” You led him down the short hallway to what was once your guest bedroom, you stepped aside and let him push the door open, “it’s not completely finished yet, I want to put her name up above the crib, but I haven’t decided on one yet.” You explained, leaning against the wall as he stood in the middle of the room, looking around at all the furniture, and the bags of baby clothes you've yet to wash. “You haven’t picked a name?” He looked kind of hopeful, “no, but I figured now you could help me? If you’re going to be involved.” You trailed off, needing the confirmation from him. “Of course I’m going to be involved, Y/N. That’s my daughter.” He pointed to your stomach, earning a soft chuckle from you. Jamie saw the tears pooling in your eyes, so he lightened the subject slightly, “you put all of this together by yourself?” He questioned, running his hands over the white crib railing, looking down at the small mattress, imaging what it will look like once the baby is here. “Well, my brother came down a couple weeks ago to help me put it all together, my bump got in the way too much.” You giggled, thinking back to the way you and your brother were so frustrated with each other while trying to put the furniture together.

“Oh–your family, they probably hate me.” He whispered, more for himself than you, you couldn’t help yourself, you took large steps over to him, standing toe to toe with him, chuckling as your bump grazed his own stomach. “They don’t hate you, actually, they’re more mad at me for not finding a way to tell you.” You whispered, Jamie nodded, still feeling guilty for causing any disturbance in your family–wait, family. He still has to tell his family. “I have to tell my family, my parents, oh my god.” He suddenly sat down in the glider in the corner, head in his hands, you frowned at the sight, your reserves breaking, when you broke up with Jamie you loved him, you’d never told him, not wanting to make it harder for him. But now, looking at him like this, and thinking of how in two short months your daughter would be here, and seeing him with her, it all came rushing back. “Jamie.” You whispered, making his head snap up, “it’s going to be ok.” You assured him, he could see you wanted to say more, “and?” He prompted, remembering how you’d fiddle with your fingers when you were nervous, just like you were doing right now. You shook your head, letting the tears fall, Jamie was up in an instant, standing right in front of you again, but this time he did hug you. He pulled you as snug against his chest as he could, ducking his head down to inhale the scent of your shampoo, “you can tell me anything, you know.” He reminded you, shocked with how easy it felt to be back with you. He loved you then and he was certain he did now, things would have to go slowly though, it was difficult to jump right back into how things were after all this time.

“I loved you, Jamie, I still love you. If you feel the same, that’s great, and if you don’t, just tell me now so I can deal with it before the baby comes.” You rambled into his chest, but he caught all he needed to hear, “I still love you too.” He whispered, laughing when you shot back, looking at him skeptically. “I mean, things would have to go slow, right? But I want to be here, whether that’s as your boyfriend too, or just as a co-parent, I’m going to be here.” He assured you, a confident smile on his face, you put your arms up around his neck, taking in the expression on his face–the emotions in his eyes. “Kinda slow.” You shrugged, eyes flickering down to his lips, “kinda slow.” He smirked, mimicking your actions. “You know, I’m a really hormonal pregnant woman, so you should just kiss me already.” You whispered, admiring the way his eyes crinkled shut in laughter, his lips met yours, and it felt like you never stopped kissing him, like the last seven months apart didn’t happen. You felt safe and loved, and you could only pray that things continued this easily.

When you finally separated you both stared at each other, “hi.” He mumbled, tracing your cheekbones with his thumbs, a blissful smile on his face. You started to laugh, uncontrollably, and he couldn’t help but join in. Not even sure why he was laughing but, you were contagious. “This is insane, Jamie.” You finally spoke, breathing hard from laughing, “are we really doing this? Us?” You questioned, suddenly very serious. “I’m all in, Y/N.” He assured you, “when’s your next appointment?” He questioned, tucking the hair behind your ears. “Tomorrow actually.” You grinned, “Wanna come?” You teased, already knowing his answer. “Can I?” He murmured, he hated that he felt like he was overstepping, even though you just offered it to him. “Of course, I want you to come, to all of them.” You spoke calmly, the easiness of being with him helped you ease your nerves, it just felt right.

***

“Bed rest?!” You and Jamie exclaimed at the same time, you had zero complications during your pregnancy so far, and now suddenly your blood pressure is up, and your doctor is worried about you going into early labor. She nodded, “yes, I think that’s the best option, for now you can monitor it at home, but if anything changes I recommend you come back in so we can reevaluate.” Your mind was going a thousand miles a minute, how could you do bed rest on your own, you lived in an apartment with an elevator that didn’t always work. Jamie could tell he was thinking the same thing as you, worry etched into his features. “Is this serious?” He asked the doctor, “it could be, but if it’s managed well, she can go full term.” She assured him, “I’ll give you two a moment, whenever you’re ready you can head to the front and check out.” She smiled, disappearing just like that. You covered your face with your hands, shaking with soft cries. “Jamie, what am I supposed to do?” You groaned into your hands, he stood in front of you and gently pulled them away from your face. “What are we supposed to do.” He corrected you softly, wiping under your eyes, “I have an idea. A crazy one, but an idea nonetheless.” He spoke, staring right into your eyes, “go on.” You encouraged, mind still reeling, unable to think properly.

“Come stay with me.” He deadpanned, you went blank, “like, move in?” You trailed off, looking away before you could see the smile on his face. “Yeah.” He nodded, “you can stay in a different room, whatever makes you comfortable, but I wouldn’t feel good leaving you in your apartment all day by yourself. Besides, when the baby comes it would just be easier, everything would be in one place. We wouldn’t have to worry about going back and forth between houses, it just makes sense.” He rambled, watching you hesitantly, unsure of how you were reacting as your face stayed blank. “I’m scared, Jamie, I’m really fucking scared, about something happening to her, or to us.” You whimpered, hiding your face in his chest, he shushed you and ran his hands up and down your back. He had all those same fears, but he wouldn’t tell you that, you needed encouragement, and he was here to give it. “It’s going to be ok, she's going to be a healthy happy baby, and we’re going to be ok. I promise, I want nothing more than to make this work.” He cupped your cheeks as he spoke, making sure you absorbed every word, he placed a kiss to your forehead before pecking your lips shortly. “Now, we’re still standing in the doctors office and I don’t think that’s very productive of me when I need to be bringing you to your new home.” He joked, finally getting a smile out of you. There was a lot to figure out, a lot to do, but you pushed the worries aside for now and just allowed Jamie to take you to his house–your now shared home.

***

You were now only a month away from having your baby, things with Jamie had been good, not great, but you attributed that to your own self worries. He had been nothing but loving and attentive, but you couldn’t help but worry that once the baby came, he wouldn’t really care about you anymore. It sounded terrible, but you couldn’t help how you felt. Your blood pressure had gone back to normal, and your doctor told you that you didn’t have to stay on full bed rest, but she definitely wanted you to take it easy. Which is why you were sitting in the glider in what was becoming the baby’s nursery, watching Tyler and Jamie snap at each other while trying to figure out how to put the crib back together. You decided not to renew your apartment, it was something you and Jamie spoke long and hard about, but it felt like the right decision, why spend all that money on rent when you wouldn’t even be going there. So now, you’d sold whatever furniture you didn’t need, and brought all of the baby stuff here, just in time for her arrival coming up. You looked around the room, Jamie had asked you what you pictured for the walls, knowing in the apartment you couldn’t paint, so you told him, not thinking much of it, you didn’t think was going to spend the whole weekend painting the room and putting up the floral wallpaper. But he did, because he loves you and wanted you to have the nursery you dreamed of for your daughter. He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t love it, because he did. The light colors, and the furniture together, it felt cozy but beautiful at the same time. It was more than he could have dreamed of for his baby. Tyler was thrilled to have you back in the group, he tended to you just as much as Jamie did, insisting he could do things, or help out. It was sweet really, and you were thankful that everyone important in Jamie’s life was so accepting of you. His family included, his mom was thrilled and couldn’t wait to come visit once the baby was born, who’s name still hadn’t been decided on, but that was your next mission.

“We need to pick a name, Jam.” You reminded him, as he huffed, finally getting the crib out together properly, he looked over at you with a smile, “this should be interesting.” Tyler laughed, sitting back against the wall, watching the two of you go back and forth over names, both of you spitting them out left and right only to be shot down by the other.

“Grace?” Jamie spoke, eyebrow raised, “as a middle name.” You countered, he nodded, “I can agree to that.” He leaned back on his arms, waiting for you to give out a first name option. You ran your hands over your even larger bump, “Presley?” You grinned, he cocked his head to the side, chewing on his lip. “Presley Grace Benn.” He spoke, glancing over at Tyler who had a wide grin on his face. You started crying which made the two guys laugh, Jamie slid over to be sitting in front of you, pressing a kiss to your stomach, something he's started doing a lot now. Especially when you started sneaking into his bed in the middle of the night, until you finally agreed to stay in the same room as him, you didn’t like being alone when you knew he was right down the hall. “Presley.” He mumbled, pushing himself up to give you a quick kiss. “Well, come on now, let’s finish Presley’s room, Tyler.” He demanded, laughing at the way his friend shot up, “don’t have to tell me twice.”

***

You tossed and turned, between your mind racing, Presley’s kicking and Jamie’s absence, you couldn’t will yourself to get some rest. You groaned, sitting up in the edge of the bed, trying to find the willpower to go apologize to Jamie, he was sleeping in the guest room, you two having a huge argument just a few hours before. He didn’t want to leave, but you didn’t seem to want to be next to him, and he surely wasn’t going to make you sleep in a different room.

Jamie stared at you across the dining room table, trying to figure out why you were so moody tonight, yes, yes, of course he knows about pregnancy hormones. But this was different, you were quiet, and he could see the worry dancing in your eyes, and that bothered him, he tried to get it out of subtly, but you didn’t budge, you stood your ground, not wanting to admit how you felt aloud. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He finally broke and asked you bluntly, resting his elbows on the table, chin in his hand as he looked at you. He sighed when you shrugged, “nothing.” You lied. “Is everything ok?” He asked, referring to the baby, “does anything hurt?” He questioned, and that broke you. “Oh my god, Jamie! Is it always about the pregnancy? I feel like that's all I am to you now! When she’s born, am I just going to become this woman that lives in your house to take care of your daughter?” You snapped, sliding your chair back aggressively, huffing with your arms crossed over your chest, he stared at you, jaw falling slack as he tried to process what you accused him of out of nowhere. “Y/N–“ “What? Are you going to say that’s not true? It doesn’t feel like it.” You cut him off, standing up from the table, “I love you.” He called as you walked off, which his motive wasn’t to make you feel guilty, but it did. “I love you too!” You shouted, but still slamming the door shut to your master bedroom. Jamie flinching as he cleaned the table off from dinner. He gave you space, coming to check on you an hour or so later, you were in the shower, back towards him so you didn’t see him stand there for a moment, deciding what his next move should be. But when he heard you angrily close the cap to your shampoo, he decided he would give you some more time.

You pushed yourself up off the bed, sniffling as you hobbled down the hall. You were walking passed Presley’s now finished room, glancing at the go bags you had packed and ready for her arrival any day now. 38 weeks, she could come at any time now and you were as ready as ready could be. You were about to continue down the hall when you heard a soft snore come from inside the room, you furrowed your brows and tiptoed into the room, feeling immensely guilty when you saw Jamie asleep in the glider with a parenting book spread open on his chest. You carefully slipped the book from his grasp, setting it on the changing table beside him, he finally looked at ease, you were going to just leave him there to rest, but as you went to walk out of the room, Presley gave a hard kick, as if she was scolding you. “Fine, I’ll get daddy.” You spoke softly down to your bump, something you and Jamie had both begun doing constantly. It dawned on you then, as you turned to look at him, that he hadn’t done anything wrong, he was being nothing but loving towards you and the baby. Yes, he was putting an emphasis on the pregnancy, who wouldn’t? You loved when he would lay his head on your lap watching tv, and talk to your stomach, or how his hands were always rubbing on it, and the way he would always press a kiss to where she was kicking before he would go to sleep.

He was madly in love with you, and you were too in your head to notice.

You pushed his messy hair off his forehead, “Jamie?” You whispered, he nudged further into your hand, still fast asleep, “Jamie.” You spoke again, resting your other hand on his chest, lightly shaking him. He sucked in a breath through his nose as he fluttered his eyes open, “Y/N?” He whispered, blinking to adjust to the light in the room, his voice raspy. “Honey, why don’t you come to bed.” You murmured, placing your hand over his bearded jaw, he met your gaze. “Are you still mad at me?” He quipped, eyes softening as he saw the way yours were bloodshot. “No, I was being an idiot, I shouldn’t have said any of that, it’s not true.” You whispered, he nodded, not moving his head from your hand, “I’m sorry, Jamie.” You leaned down to give him a kiss that he gladly accepted, “I know, baby, don’t cry.” He smiled up at you, “I’m not crying.” You rolled your eyes sheepishly, feeling the few tears fall down your cheeks. “Come on, you’re exhausted.” He stood up with a yawn, hands on your hips as he guided you back to bed. He flicked the lights off in the nursery as he walked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You know, if something’s ever bothering you, you can always tell me, and we can figure it out together.” He reminded you softly, smiling when you turned to hug him tightly. “I know, my emotions have been all over the place, I never know what’s actually bothering me or what I think it’s bothering me.” You mumbled into his chest, feeling the laughter run through him at your muffled statement. “It’s ok, sweetheart, let’s just go to bed.” He nudged you gently towards the bed, smiling when you laid facing him, you sighed in content, your belly resting comfortably on your body pillow, your eyes shutting instantly as you felt Jamie playing with your hair. “Goodnight, baby.” He mumbled, kissing your forehead before settling into his side of the bed, staying up until you were fast asleep, just admiring you, and in awe of how soon it wouldn’t just be the two of you. He was terrified and excited all at the same time.

You woke up what felt like minutes later but was actually hours, to a shooting pain in your back. You groaned, hand shooting to rub the spot, the pain easing a few moments later. You brushed it off as sleeping in an odd position, you flipped to your other side, letting your eyes shut again, but after a few minutes the pain started easing back before it had you nearly in tears. You scrambled to grab your phone, checking the time and sighing when it read two am. “Now, Presley?” You rubbed your stomach, nervously biting your lip. You decided to time the next one and see if it truly was contractions or just an odd coincidence. Jamie was still out beside you, laying flat on his stomach with half his face hidden in the pillow. You sat up against the headboard, rubbing your hands over your face as you watched the time tick away, five minutes passed and just as you thought maybe you were losing your mind, the pain came back, moving more towards your stomach. “Jamie!” You whacked his back with a pillow, sending him flying up, “what? What’s wrong?” He turned the lamp on, eyes wide as he looked at you. You didn’t speak as you had your eyes squeezed shut, a death grip on the sheets below you as the pain pushed through you. “Fuck.” You whimpered, slowly releasing the sheets as it passed. “Are you having contractions? Is it baby time?” He panicked, jumping off the bed, already throwing his pajama pants off and replacing them with real clothes. “Yeah.” You whispered, slowly sliding off the bed, you stood on your two feet shakily, Jamie coming over to grab your hands. “My water hasn’t broken, why hasn’t it broken?” You rushed, suddenly panicking over everything. Jamie shushed you, allowing you to have a death grip on his hands as he slowly walked towards the door with you. “Well, I think it just did.” He informed you as you froze, feeling the wetness go through your pants. You sighed in relief but then it set in that this was really happening, “I need to change my pants, and we need to go.” You were counting down the minutes, wanting to get changed into new pants before another contraction started. Jamie quickly helped you step out of the ones you’d been wearing before grabbing a pair of his sweatpants and shimmying them up your legs. He ran and grabbed the bags and you two were on your way.

The drive to the hospital was made in record speed, Jamie carefully but quickly getting you there, worrying every time you had a contraction and they were quickly getting closer together.

“Seven?!” You shrieked when the doctor popped up from checking how dilated you were, “you’re just speeding right along sweetie! She’ll be here before you know it!” She smiled up at your panicked face, you’d already gotten an epidural, which was thankfully helping tremendously with the pain. “Be back in an hour to check you.” She clapped her hands and was on her way, you and Jamie sitting in the hospital room, the light pouring in from outside, you’d been four centimeters when you got here, and that was only a few hours ago, the sun starting to shine as the early morning came. “She’s already impatient like me.” You sighed, leaning back against your pillows, Jamie chuckled from the seat beside you, “you say that as if you’re not ready to meet her.” He teased you, lacing your fingers together, anxiously bouncing his leg. “You’re making me nervous.” You spoke bluntly, he stopped moving his leg, “sorry.” He mumbled, knowing you weren’t meaning to be so quick with him. “I love you.” You reminded him, he chuckled, “I know, babe, I love you too.” He pressed a quick kiss to your pouted lips before urging you to get some type of rest now that the pain wasn’t so bad.

“You did this to me!” You snapped at Jamie after you gave your fifth excruciating push, suddenly now your daughter decided to be stubborn. “I know.” Is all he could say, pushing your sweaty hair back, one hand under your knee to help hold your leg back. “You’re doing so good, baby.” He encouraged you, smiling when you looked at him with worried eyes between pushes. “I can see her head, Y/N! Just a few more big pushes!” Your doctor encouraged, you let out a strangled cry before nodding, knowing you had no choice but to do it. Jamie cringed every time you pushed and your face started turning bright red, “come on! One more big push!” She encouraged you again, Jamie allowing you to grip his arm tightly as you crunched forward, giving all your strength for this last push. “Shoulders, arms and here we go, a baby girl.” Your doctor spoke, holding her up to put her on your chest as the nurse threw a towel down, using it to wipe her off as she began to cry. “Oh my god.” You cried, unable to pull your eyes off of her, Jamie was staring in awe at her, and you too. “Dad, want to cut the cord?” The doctor shook you both from your thoughts, he nodded hesitantly, she directed to him where to cut it, and he cringed as he did so, but happy that he did it. In a heartbeat he was back up by your head, watching as they took Presley off to be weighed and given a quick check up. “You did it, you did amazing.” He whispered against your forehead, not caring that you were covered in a layer of sweat. “She’s so beautiful, Jamie.” You looked up at him, feeling your heart swell with pride, “that’s all you mama.” He grinned, ducking down to kiss your lips. “All you.” He sighed, “so proud of you.”

***

Waking up to Jamie speaking to Presley was a normal occurrence, and you never got tired of it, you smiled from your place on your pillow as he held the two week old to his chest, she was looking up at him with wide eyes, Jamie had his eyes focused on her as he mumbled sweet words. Telling her how much he loved her and how beautiful she was. “Good morning.” You whispered, watching his eyes look over to you. “Morning.” He smiled, watching you sit up and scoot closer to him. “How long have you been up with her?” You ran your thumb over her chubby little cheek, smiling as she tried to look back at you. He handed her over to you, “not long, ten minutes maybe.” He shrugged, smiling as she instantly gripped your finger. “Hi baby girl.” You cooed, nuzzling your nose against hers, loving the way she would scrunch her face up when you did that. “Hey.” Jamie nudged you lightly, reaching up to grab your chin, turning you to face him, “get out of your head, yeah?” He hummed, kissing you softly, “I still love you.” He reminded you with a smile, just like you two had said only three short months ago, but it felt like forever. “I still love you too.” You responded, melting into his side as he put an arm around your shoulders, you both relishing in the quiet room before Presley would start to get fussy. That’s how most mornings went over the summer, when the season started it was hard, but you both figured it out, and you could only wish you had done that the year before, you wouldn’t have missed out on so much time with him.

But he was here now, all three of you were happy and healthy, living your lives as a family, and that’s all that really matters.

taglist: @vinceduhn​ @kempe​ @jackiesquinn​ @josty​ @kiedhara​ @literarycharleton​

[cblgblog]

Imagine Mildolyn, "Illicit Affair", Modern AU. Where Gwen's campaigning for Congress and all the meet and greets, showing up for charities for publicity, her 'cause'. At one for special needs children and their foundation she meets a very young CNA named Mildred and sort of falls head over heels in the dumbest of ways, both just love struck. Except she's campaigning to be in Congress, she's a politician, she cannot be queer and chasing after 19 year old ex-foster kids whos brothers are set to be the youngest executed on Death Row in California in decades for appalling crimes. But there she is, in hotel rooms her supporters pay for, with someone she shouldn't be with, trying to find ways to overturn cases that turned stomachs with their brutality, because a pretty girl smiled at her and called her 'ma'am' while showing her around the foundation/care home she worked at with children no one else had the time/patience to care for. Of course it goes terribly with 'dirty little secret' vibes, the breast cancer diagnosis announced on twitter before she tells Mildred in person, even if it's such a minor case ('so they say') and caught so early that it'll barely leave a scar, radiation won't be much of a deal at all. She doesn't get to tell Mildred that, she just gets to hear on Fox news about how the democrat's gonna die a horrible death and panic.

Mildred who has no patience for politicians and their fake concern, using patients as photo ops. It’s manipulative, it’s distracting to the staff, it’s awful, okay, she hates it. She is, in fact, a tad bit rude to Gwen when they meet. Gets her a death glare from Betsy Bucket, gets Gwen intrigued.

“Republican?” only half-joking.

“No.”

“Is it the suit? Should I have worn a different suit? I wanted to, but I’ve been told this one tested better.”

“The suit is fine.” It’s more than that, actually, but Mildred will not be saying that aloud, nope, uh-uh. “I don’t much care for politicians.”

“Ah, we have that in common then.”

“I doubt we have much of anything in common. Ma’am.”

And look, Gwen doesn’t usually go in for the chasing, the hard to get. She’s got enough trouble chasing votes. But this woman is so good with the kids on her ward, so patient. She’s got Disney scrubs on and as much as she’s got no time at all for Gwen, she seems to have infinite amounts for those kids. She stays with them individually, longer than any of the other staff Gwen sees, but she still manages to get a dozen things done in half as many minutes. And she’s also gorgeous, there’s that.

And Gwen has no good reason to ask her out for lunch. Honestly, none. Nothing good can come from this. Mildred asks if the citizens of California will be paying for this meal and Gwen swears that isn’t the case, no, absolutely not. Even still, Gwen doesn’t expect Mildred to say yes. She doesn’t think Mildred expected Mildred to say yes.

But she does. Tells herself it’s for Edmund, maybe this’ll be the one politician who listens, who’s willing to look past the surface facts, willing to help. Except she gets there and they don’t talk about Edmund. It’s not because Mildred doesn’t know how to bring it up, she’s made her case dozens of times. She just…they don’t talk about him, and that feels like a betrayal, but Gwen’s kind and funny and fascinating (much to Mildred’s annoyance), and she just…doesn’t feel like getting into it.

Meanwhile Trevor, Gwen’s campaign manager/law school buddy/best friend/lavender marriage soulmate, if they were in a different time, is like bitch, what’re you doing? Yes, everyone knows you’re gay as hell, but you can’t be chasing girls right now, you can’t afford to be distracted. You especially can’t afford to look distracted. And you can’t be robbing the cradle while looking distracted.

“She’s not that young.”

“Uh-huh. She wears Winnie the Pooh clothes.”

“Scrubs, those are scrubs. Scrubs aren’t clothes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She works in a children’s ward, Trevor.”

“Uh-huh. I really wish you wouldn’t do this, but since you care nothing about me and my mental state and all the hours and hours of hard work I’ve put in for you—”

“After badgering me into hiring you over someone more qualified.”

“Hey! More qualified. I resent that. Anyway, if you insist on ruining my day, at least wear that face cream I gave you. Should make you look less like you’re robbing the cradle.”

“Go to hell.”

“And don’t do the oyster thing. Not on a first date, in the middle of the campaign.”

“It’s not a date, it’s just lunch.”

“Uh-huh.”

Gwen doesn’t do the oyster thing. Not on the first date, which neither of them acknowledge as a date, for entirely different reasons. But then there’s a second and a third, and sex, lots of sex, and it’s harder to pass off as just friendly.

And yeah, the sneaking around that Gwen hates. That Mildred says she doesn’t mind, and she actually doesn’t seem to all that much, which Gwen finds slightly concerning. Mildred’s good with secrets though, she’s good with being kept a secret. Mostly. Which again, Gwen finds concerning.

There’s pillow talk and Mildred admitting more about herself than she has to anyone, ever. Which still isn’t nearly as much as what Gwen admits, but it’s a relative thing. And still, Mildred doesn’t talk about Edmund. Gwen finds that one out on her own, stumbles across some old photos, a scrapbook of Edmund’s crimes. Gwen’s briefly concerned that Mildred is one of those people who’re deeply attracted to serial killers, but the truth is…something else.

Mildred tells her things. Some of the deeper, darker stuff, but not much, not yet. Tells her how she’s written to everyone she can think of because he’s a boy, okay? He was in an impossible situation, they both were, no one ever helped them, so Edmund decided he had to die. No one helped them before, no one helps them now. There’s anger and tears and Gwen holding her and she can’t help asking why Mildred didn’t talk to her sooner, if she’s had no problem asking for help from strangers.

“Because you aren’t,” Mildred says in a way that makes it clear she’s figuring this stuff out as she says it. “A stranger, you aren’t. You never were and I couldn’t…I didn’t want to become one to you. I didn’t want you to look at me like that.”

“Oh Mildred…”

Mildred doesn’t actually ask her to help. She doesn’t want Gwen to think that’s what it’s all been about. It was supposed to be, but it isn’t. She doesn’t ask. Gwen digs into things herself, digs into this kid who was barely double-digits when he did these things. Made all the headlines at the time, but that was over a decade ago, he’s been locked up ever since. Most of Mildred’s money goes to him, one way or another.

Gwen hides it from Trevor—the murderer, not the sex, he knew about the sex before she ever said anything—for as log as she can. But he’s always been nosy, and now he has a paid excuse to be nosy, and he nearly has an aneurysm when he hears why it is that Gwen’s suddenly digging into this case instead of kissing the babies of gay couples, like she should be.

Gwen cannot do this. Nope, absolute no. She cannot be sneaking around with the younger sister of the kid they’ve made all the documentaries about. Doesn’t matter that she’s running on a platform of prison reform, especially as it pertains to juveniles, this is not the case to start with, especially when she hasn’t won yet.

And Gwen knows. She knows. She argues with Trevor about it until he decides they both need to stop because Gwen has a speaking engagement tomorrow and she can’t sound hoarse. There are many further arguments, arguments about principles over politics, but Gwen knows he’s right. She cannot, should not, be doing any of this, at least not yet. It’s dangerous, it’s selfish, Mildred deserves better than being someone’s secret again. Gwen should break it off, at least until the election. She’s not being fair to either of them like this. They should stop, at least for a few months.

Except it’s Mildred and she’s totally hijacked Gwen’s everything, and the thought of stopping makes her ill, and everything about this is terrifying, the most terrifying thing ever.

And then there’s the checkup and the routine mammogram. Gwen started those earlier than most because somebody’s aunt on somebody’s side of the family got sick, somebody’s cousin on the other side did too.

Scratch that, there’s a new winner for most terrifying thing ever.

It’s good, they say. She started early, they caught it early, this is good, they have treatments for this. Good, they say, while Gwen damn near passes out. She’s got a campaign to finish, she can see the Too Sick to Serve headlines already. A bald look would not test well, she’s sure it wouldn’t. She talks to Trevor about that, about the campaign, until he tells her to shut the fuck up, yanks her into a crushing hug. He cries, damn him, and that makes her cry.

She’s glad he’s there.

She wishes Mildred was.

She is also relieved as hell that Mildred isn’t, that they’re on opposite sides of the state right now. No point having Mildred see her like this, having her worry. She’s got enough to worry about, enough to hurt about.

Not that Gwen isn’t planning to tell her. She is. It’s only been a few whirlwind months, but Gwen knows enough to realize that a lie of omission would be a bad, bad, bad idea where Mildred’s concerned, regardless of intention. Gwen doesn’t think of hiding it anyway, not really. Mildred deserves better then that. When and how to tell the public…that’s a completely different clusterfuck of a situation, but Mildred, Gwen just wants to tell her in person. That way Mildred can see her face when she promises it’s no big deal (hopefully without seeing how terrified she actually is), and Gwen will have all the paperwork and things she knows Mildred will want to see, and they can hold each other, and it’s just, it’s not phone call news.

Except then it’s headline news, because somehow it’s leaked. Fox News is having a field day, certain corners of the Internet are already gleefully writing her obituary, and she’s missed literally hundreds of calls by the time she gets a look at her phone. At least half of those are from Mildred. Mildred who actually sounds hysterical for the first time since Gwen’s known her, that bastard on the news with the hair, he says you’re dying, why aren’t you answering, how long have you known, please, please pick up the phone, just pick up the phone god dammit.

She’s managed to keep Mildred a secret for months. This? This doesn’t last three days before it’s everywhere. Gwen does get an I love you for the first time ever, but seeing as Mildred’s sobbing over her voicemail when it happens, the joy is somewhat muted.

[hotcheri]

Always Something There to Remind Me (a Jen/Khalil Black Lightning fanfic)

by hotcheri © 2021

DISCLAIMER: I own none of the Black Lightning characters. They solely belong to DC Comics and the CW Network. This is just my take on what could have happened after the show ended.

Prologue

Khalil's POV

They were meditating when TC crept into Khalil's mindscape like a thief in the night.

Well, at least, Khalil was meditating. He loved to empty his mind of all thoughts and focus on his breathing, relishing the mental stillness and the sense of peace he didn't have in his normal life.

Painkiller sat to the side of the mental dojo like he always did whenever Khalil was centering himself, a mocking sneer twisting his lips up as Khalil tried to ignore the rage that was baking off his mind twin like a rabid fever.

Painkiller was always angry, and the people he was mostly enraged at were the Pierces. Jen, to be exact. They lived in Painkiller's head rent free, and since Khalil shared the same mind as him, and almost all of his thoughts, the image of Jen was never far from Khalil. Pain in the ass Jen, who also happened to be Khalil's first love. What a mind fuck to love someone with all your heart while part of you needed to kill her and was in pure agony every second she was alive. Khalil didn't need anyone to tell him about mind fucks, having Painkiller relentlessly prowling through his mind was more than enough.

Every time TC appeared in Khalil's mindscape, Painkiller leapt up from his seat and started pacing back and forth in a tight little line like a tiger stalking its prey, hands clasped behind his back, nostrils flared, glaring at TC as if he wanted nothing more than to boot him out of his head after savaging him a little.

Too bad it's our head, and I'm trying to hear what he has to say.

The thought flitted through Khalil's mind grimly, and he sucked in a breath before opening his eyes and gazing at TC, who kept shooting quick little fearful glances at Painkiller. Khalil knew how he felt. Until he had started working actively with Painkiller, forcing the duality in his brain to coexist, he'd been terrified of him too.

"Uh, hi guys," TC started, his voice trembling as he looked around for exit points even though all he had to do was break the connection with the chip in Khalil's brain if he wanted to leave. Khalil supposed when someone entered a room and found themselves face to face with Painkiller, even if it was a virtual reality room, that person could get very scared very fast. In cases like that, logic was the first thing to escape.

Khalil liked the kid, had liked him even before he had locked Painkiller behind a firewall in his head and had shown Jen how to coax Khalil out of the safe space he'd created in his mind. Khalil knew without a doubt that the Pierces, especially Anissa, would have taken him out after Jen had blasted him with lightning to ward off Painkiller's attack on her family as he tried to complete the kill directive, because that's exactly what he would have done.

But TC had done the inconceivable. He'd managed to read Khalil's real thoughts, thoughts that had somehow filtered through the Painkiller operating system as soon as he set eyes on Jen. Thoughts that he must have been hiding way down in his secret heart, feelings that must have survived the A.S.A. mindwipe that transformed him into a lean, mean, biological weapon. As he lay prone on the table in Gambi's work station, on the verge of unconsciousness, his sharp ears had listened as TC, a total stranger, had his back.

"Hey. Who's Jen?" TC had interrupted the post fight argument, glancing around at the faces of people he didn't know.

Impatiently, with the touch of heat that Khalil loved and had missed with a sudden depth of emotion he hadn't felt since he was just track star Khalil, and not two warring parts of a government weapon whole, Jen replied, "That's me."

"He loves you."

And Jen's suddenly shaky, tear-filled voice had whispered, "How do you know that?"

TC's answer had been simple. "He told me."

Yeah, TC was good people. And even though the reunion between Khalil and Jen hadn't lasted, even though it had been bittersweet and doomed to fail with a painful, brusque ending, for a short, sweet time, he had been happy again.

But there was no use in thinking about that, no use in brooding over something he couldn't fix. With Painkiller in his head, being with Jen wasn't an option.

Painkiller was the first to talk, stepping forward as TC gave Khalil a half-hearted wave. "Oh, you must be crazy bringin' your ass here," he growled out in his distorted, angry voice.

TC took an involuntary step back, wringing his hands. Khalil could feel the fear in the kid increase as Painkiller stopped inches from his face, glowering down at him.

Raising a hand, Khalil talked to Painkiller like a patient parent calming down a tantrum throwing toddler. "I invited him," he lied, not caring that Painkiller would know that he hadn't.

Sharing his mind with a psychopathic, heartless killer sucked all the time, and keeping secrets was nearly impossible. Painkiller knew he was claustrophobic, that he loved trains, and that he thought about the one that got away daily. But when it came to people Khalil cared for, he didn't give a fuck if Painkiller knew he was lying to protect them from his rage. TC was a friend, and he wasn't going to let Painkiller's angry ass intimidate him.

"Don't think I won't kick your ass, too," Painkiller growled. Khalil fixed him with a steady look. He'd won more fights against Painkiller, especially after his return after a year long silence, and Painkiller knew it. After a few seconds, Painkiller sucked his teeth and resumed scowling at TC.

Spreading his arms out placatingly, TC asked, "What if I come with good and great news?"

A curious expression darted across Painkiller's face. Khalil caught it and grinned to himself. Psychotic or not, everyone liked the idea of good news.

"Speak," Painkiller ground out.

Swallowing nervously, TC said, "Tobias Whale is dead."

Okay, that was unexpected, and so was the rush of relief that coursed through Khalil's body, relaxing muscles that had been tense ever since he had started working for Tobias. Even though the A.S.A. mindwipe had taken all his memories and locked them away, they had been retrieved as soon as TC had put the firewall in his head, and so too had the underlying current of fear that always pulsed whenever he thought of Tobias.

And now his former boss, the man who had ripped out his spine and dumped him on the church steps when he was done with him, the evil torturer who had been responsible for leading Khalil over to the dark side was finally dead. Closing his eyes, Khalil sent up a prayer of thanks to a God he no longer strictly believed in.

Even after becoming Agent Odell's  chief asset, Khalil still harbored thoughts that Tobias would come to him, eager to finish what he had started, wanting revenge for Syonide's death, the attempted robbery at the club before Khalil and Jen became runaways, and every single other thing he'd done that had pissed Tobias off. He'd reluctantly come to believe that a showdown with Tobias was inevitable, and even though his road to atonement had led him to Akashic Valley and a new life, he always knew that Tobias would eventually come for him. It was in his nature. But now this piece of good news had been thrown into his lap and Khalil took a moment to bask in gratitude.

Painkiller's reaction was the polar opposite of Khalil's restrained joy. Anger blazed onto his face and his brow creased as he listened to TC give Khalil the best news he'd heard in a while.

Sounding like a petulant child after being asked if he had McDonald's money, Painkiller groaned. "Damn. I wanted to kill him." He fisted both hands into his unruly curls and glowering up at the ceiling. "That's not good news." Turning to Khalil, his voice turned wheedling. "Let me kick his ass just a little."

With a quick glance towards Painkiller, TC cleared his throat before dropping his bombshell. "I've isolated the system code for the kill order. I can free you."

TC backed away till his back was against the wall, as far as he could get from a snarling Painkiller. When he got furious, Painkiller acted just like a wolf ready to attack. Luckily, Khalil had him on a mental leash. Ignoring him, Khalil focused his attention on TC.

"TC, what is your other news?"

Khalil let out a shaky breath, a glimmer of hope blooming in his chest.

At last.

"Good." Both TC and Khalil turned to face Painkiller, who had a look on his face so unnatural that Khalil didn't immediately recognize it. He looked like a doomed man seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Is he...is he happy? "Let's do it."

"But there's a catch," TC started slowly, plucking nervously at his sleeve as his eyes slid from Khalil to Painkiller and back again. Khalil sighed, motioning to TC to continue. There was always a catch and he knew that better than anybody, but for a second he had allowed himself to believe that getting rid of the kill order that brought such pain to both Painkiller and him, finally being freed from the chains that the A.S.A had wound around his body and in his mind, was ripe for the taking, with no blowback. "It's linked to everything you know and love about the whole Pierce family. If you break the kill order, you won't remember the Pierces at all."

The breath went out of Khalil all at once, leaving him feeling weak and boneless. He was glad he was sitting down, because if he had been standing when TC spoke, the strength would have ran out of his legs. And even though this was all in his mind, his physical body had stopped breathing for a second, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

This wasn't a catch, it was a fucking dilemma. There had to be another way.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Khalil found himself thinking about the technology he and Painkiller had found in Maya's safe house. Surely there was something there that would help isolate the kill switch without messing with his memories more than they'd already been messed with? Because this alternative that TC was suggesting... it wasn't fair. After leaving Freeland to keep Jen and her family safe and away from him, hell, after saving Anissa's wife from kidnappers, after everything that had happened in Khalil's life to get him to this point in time, losing the only good memories he had left just plain wrong.

"So what?" Painkiller asked, his top lip turned up into a snarl. Whether he was oblivious to the wave of emotion Khalil was weathering, or if he just didn't care, Khalil didn't know. Painkiller knew what he wanted. He was tired of the agony that came with not fulfilling the kill order. "They're pains in the ass anyway!"

In a chillingly calm voice that brooked no argument, Khalil stared evenly at Painkiller and said, "Shut up and sit your black ass down." Shocked into obedience, Painkiller sank down to the floor as Khalil looked at TC, a pleading tone in his voice. "TC, there's got to be another way around."

"There's none." Khalil could hear the despair in TC's voice, and he knew he was telling the truth. Of course he was. "I've checked and I've double checked."

Painkiller was still silent, and Khalil turned to look at him. "Damn!" He clenched his fist so hard that the veins in his arm popped out, but he took no notice. "You won't stop, will you? Sooner or later you're going to kill Jen and the rest of the Pierces."

Nodding sagely, like he had been the one meditating, Painkiller said, "Best believe. But I'm not nobody's puppy." He pointed at Khalil, his face stern and absolutely serious. "Cut the damn cord."

The muscles in Khalil's jaw worked as he stood up, turning his back on TC and Painkiller so that they couldn't see the emotions playing across his face. He wanted to be free of the kill code more than anything, needed Painkiller to be at rest so that he could figure out a way to become whole again. But the cost- losing Jen again- was it just too great?

Khalil closed his eyes, and suddenly, he was back on the Pierce's roof with Jen after Painkiller had broken free of the firewall for a couple of nasty minutes to wrap his hands around Jen's neck. He could feel everything in that moment, the wind brushing lightly against his face, the shingles of the roof under his sneakers, the terrified look Jen shot him before schooling her features into a coolness Khalil had never seen on her face. Both looks hit him like a ton of bricks.

She was scared of him.

Painkiller had shown her his true colors and had, once again, pushed someone he loved away from him. And what she had said had chilled him to the core, a sudden lump rising in his throat, and tears smarting in his eyes as she let him go.

"I can't love a weapon that's pointed at my family, even if it does have a soul." Her shoulders hunched pitifully as she wrapped her arms around her legs, all at once seeming far younger than her years. "See you around, Khalil."

He took one last look at her, her curly hair brushing past her chin, her eyes chilly and flinty in the dusk as she turned away from him, blinking away tears of her own. "No. You won't," he said, and with that, he had exited Jen's life.

Some things you can't go back to. The way Jen had ended things between them still hurt, and the realization that he wasn't going to be able to salvage things with her caused him pain that was almost physical, but if TC was able to isolate the kill code and erase his memories of her, the pain would go. All the pain would disappear, and his fresh start in Akashic Valley would be just that, a fresh start.

Behind him, TC started to say, "If you need more time, I can-," but by now, Khalil's mind was made up. There was no other choice.

"I always known I'd give my life for that girl." Khalil heaved a sad sigh, running a hand over his face as he turned to look at a nervous TC and an impassive Painkiller. Painkiller smirked, knowing what decision Khalil had made, and in that moment, Khalil hated him, the A.S.A., Odell- everyone who had gotten him into this situation. Especially himself. "Never thought I'd have to forget her." A nod towards TC. "Do it."

TC nodded dumbly, just as another thought flitted into Khalil's mind. If TC was able to isolate the kill code and erase some of his memories, wasn't it possible that he could remove his very worst memory?

Before he left Freeland for good after shooting Odell and letting Black Lightning deal with the evil son of a bitch however he saw fit, Khalil took a detour to the cemetery, picking a bunch of blooming flowers from the ramshackle garden of Mrs. Sutton, the Payne's old landlady. Khalil didn't think she would mind, she had loved Nichelle Payne dearly.

Once at the cemetery, he had laid the flowers on his mother's grave, sat down with his back resting against her tombstone and cried a little. Nobody had been around to see him; Freeland residents weren't crazy about going to the graveyard at nighttime.

"I shot the guy who made me kill you, ma," he'd whispered, his words blown away by the breeze as the tears blurred his vision. "I know you always said vengeance never pays, but I had to do it. I'm sorry, ma. I love you, and I'm so, so sorry."

Nichelle Payne had raised him to be the best in whatever he did, and what had he done in return? Snapped her neck, and the best excuse he could come up with was he'd just been following orders. The knowledge weighed heavily on his soul, and he knew that he would pay for it in time. Everything comes due. But if TC could somehow make him forget...

"I can try," TC said doubtfully, and Khalil raised his eyes from his clenched fists, remembering where he was through the sadness that engulfed his soul.

"No." Khalil shook his head, resigning himself to reality. "It's part of who I am, and I need to find redemption for it, or a way to live with myself."

TC opened his mouth and hesitated before shyly asking, "Do you want to- I mean, I could give you Jen's number and you could talk to her one last time?"

Painkiller groaned, storming around the circumference of the dojo angrily. "Can we fucking do this already? No more flashbacks, no phone calls- get this kill order the fuck out of my head!"

"Our head," Khalil reminded him. "And right now, I'm in charge." He bit his lip, wrestling with himself. Saying goodbye to Jen wouldn't make things better, it would just bring home the truth that he would never see his first girlfriend again, and even if by some weird coincidence he did, he wouldn't know her. It was stupid. They already said their goodbyes on the Pierce roof, what would he gain from this? "What's her number?"

Painkiller actually growled at this and stomped off somewhere. Khalil could still feel him burning in his mind, but it looked like he had opted out of being a part of Khalil's final goodbye. Not that Khalil minded in the least. Before Painkiller, his relationship with Jen had been special. He didn't want his insane mind twin tainting the very last moment he would have with her.

Courteously, TC severed the connection with Khalil's brain chip, promising to return when the phone call was over and start the process. Khalil stared down at his phone and punched in Jen's number before he could lose his cool. Meditation seemed like a lifetime away, it was all he could do to keep his heart from galloping away like a war horse.

Jen's phone rang once, twice, three times, and Khalil was just about to hit the end button when suddenly-

"Hi." Jen's bold, brash voice was in his ear, and Khalil forgot to breathe. The background noise was filled with laughter and music, a noise that Khalil associated with family time, even though he was never fortunate enough to have enjoyed family time with his mother working two jobs, his father in jail, and his brother running the streets with the 100. "You know you're calling from a- Anissa, stop!" Khalil closed his eyes, savoring the sound of Jen's hearty giggles as someone- Anissa, probably- tickled her or something similar. "You're calling from a private number, who is this?"

A male chuckle sounded, and Khalil recognized Gambi's voice sounding from the distance. "Probably a scam, hang up before they get all your info."

Same old Gambi, trusting nobody. A wistful smile turned up Khalil's lips, but he still couldn't come up with a thing to say. It was like all his thought circuits were down, and he wondered if Painkiller had something to do with it.

"Helloooo? Who is this?" Jen's voice turned speculative, and she gave a derisive snort. "This better not be TC playing with me again, how many times do I have to tell you I'm not going to prom wit' you?"

"I'm literally right here," TC protested in the background.

And Khalil found that he couldn't bring himself to say anything, let alone goodbye. He wasn't great with goodbyes, anyway, so who was he fooling? "Uh, sorry," he muttered. Why had he thought this would be a good idea again? "Wrong number."

In the few seconds it took for him to press the end call button, Jen's voice sharpened with recognition and she exclaimed, "Wait, that sounds a little like-."

Call ended blinked up at him from his phone screen as his pulse jumped in his throat. Safe getaway. Of course, he'd ended the call before Jen could say his name, or even more hurtful, the name of somebody else.

But fuck, hearing her voice was bittersweet.

"You hung up?" TC was back in his head, eyes gleaming with relief that Painkiller wasn't around.

Nodding, Khalil strove to keep his face blank and impassive. "Yeah. I'd rather remember her the way she was on that phone, happy, carefree, pain in the ass J."

She sounded happy and normal, like the old her, before the 100 had kidnapped her and she had discovered she had powers. She sounded like the Queen of Garfield. By coming back into her life even for a few seconds, he might jeopardize that happiness, and if there's one thing he wanted her to be after the events of the past few years, it was at peace and she wasn't going to find it with him.

"But you didn't get to say goodbye."

Pity was written all across TC's face, and once again, Khalil felt the wave of sadness engulf him. Did it ever stop? Even with his memories of Jen gone, would he really be at peace?

"I didn't need to." Khalil stopped, his shoulders slumped, and came to stand next to TC, who was still looking at him with that sympathetic look on his face. "TC..."

Looking up at him, TC said, "Yeah?"

"Don't tell her."

TC let out a dramatic gasp that made Khalil crack a smile, even though he had never felt less like smiling. "What? But I was just about to-?"

"No." Khalil shook his head resolutely. "Let her live her life." TC opened his mouth to protest, but Khalil talked over him. It was the only way. "You told me she lost the guy she was seeing, and she's already lost so much. Just- let her think what she's been thinking, that I left Freeland to live my life." He started pacing like Painkiller sometimes did, back and forth, his arms behind his back as he spoke. It felt like atoning for his sins. "I poisoned her. I almost killed her."

Interrupting, his voice utterly horrified, TC exclaimed, "That was Painkiller, not you!"

"Yeah, but don't you get it? He's in me, so even if I know that I'm not the one doing the poisoning, everyone else thinks it, because he's in my head wanting to kill all the time." Khalil stopped pacing and turned to TC, his face serious. "With the kill code gone, we can co-exist without the anger and rage that drives Painkiller. I came here for a fresh start and removing the memories of the Pierces will give me that." To show that he meant business, he clapped his hands together. "Let's do this. How's it gonna work?"

Getting back to business removed the pity from TC's face, and Khalil was glad. Seeing that look on his normally cheery friends face and knowing it was directed at him made him feel like even more of a shitty person.

Tapping his chin, Khalil asked, "So I won't remember that they're metas as well?"

"You'll forget about them. Anything related to them, too."

TC's eyes started to flash green as he went over the logistics of changing Khalil's life.

"No, you'll remember that, you'll know about Black Lightning, Thunder and Lightning, you just won't know their identities. You won't remember they're Pierces."

Nodding, Khalil said, "Got it." Actually, it sounded confusing to him, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. "But if I want to reinstate my memories, can't I just come to you and-."

TC laughed as Khalil made a casual popping noise with his tongue in his cheek. "No. You won't even know that your memories are gone."

"And you're sure they'll stay gone."

This was the most important part. What ifs ran through Khalil's mind with the speed of a Formula One car. If he somehow ran into the Pierce sisters on vacation. If he helped someone from a mugger and it turned out to be Doctor Pierce? If Black Lightning ended up in Akashic Valley like Anissa had and they ran into each other?

Shifting from one foot to the other, TC said, "Um, 90% sure."

"90?" Khalil asked incredulously.

TC shrugged. "That's an A."

"I used to get straight A's in school," Khalil said musingly. "And then Odell dropped a few Master's degrees into my head, but that happened after I stopped caring about grades." TC gave him a confused, yet concerned look, and Khalil said, "Let's get rid of these memories."

A few minutes later, Khalil was lying on an operating table, a brain scanner that looked like a crown on his head. Philky just happened to have one lying around, which was pure Philky, and after TC had uploaded his program into the lab's computer, he'd told Khalil's master of tech exactly what to do. Donald was on standby in case something went wrong medically. And Painkiller? He was still in the dojo, and Khalil could feel the excitement thrumming through him. Khalil didn't blame him; he was excited too.

A high-pitched whine started up, and Khalil felt a pinprick of electricity tickle his forehead as the process started. TC had warned him about this.

What TC hadn't warned him about was, as the memories left, they replayed in his head, almost like a flashback reel.

Khalil saw himself on the Pierce roof with Jen, giving her a chaste, shy kiss as she agreed to be his girlfriend.

He saw himself stealing into Garfield High and meeting up with Jen by the lockers after enduring more abuse from Tobias, knowing that she was the only person he could really talk to despite what had gone down between them. Sitting down in silence, not needing to say a word because their connection was that powerful.

He saw them running away together, Jen using her lightning powers in front of him for the first time and blasting the 100 hoodlums. How he'd kissed her later on and it had been electric, and the hottest kiss he'd ever had.

He saw himself (the memories were blurry around the edges, soon they'd be gone but so would the kill code, it was for the best but it hurt, TC didn't say it would hurt this much) sitting next to Jen in his special place, his private place, his favorite place, the abandoned subway car, eating ramen and reminiscing on how he had asked her to be his girlfriend, and he had been so shy when he gave her the necklace, something that had caught his eye in Freeland's jewelry store and he'd saved up for two months to buy it for her, a necklace he was giving to her for the second time because he loved her, and he'd lost her once and wasn't about to let her go again and...

The memories faded as Khalil's mind cycled through the deepest, darkest levels of consciousness, and there was only darkness, and finally, blissfully, peace.

(See more on ao3 or wattpad!)

[jiminiesmagicshop]

NOTICE: ONE

Warnings: whoops attempted* angst ;0 other than that, none

Song inspos: it’s ok if you forget me, Astrid S (but imagine the exact opposite of what she sings) & mess it up, Gracie Abrams :’)

Word count: 1,500+

Summary: Jimin notices way too much about you, while you don't notice nearly enough about him. He also needs to invest in some hoodies.

a/n: hi hii :) this is my first completed fic i've writen on here, or anywhere at all for that matter kaplskjjs ahh i really hope you like it. Let me know what you think, feedback is super super welcome!! there is a flashback that's written in italics, and i took ridiculously long trying to come up with a summary which i'm sTILL iffy about. i'm also new on here so let's be frens :))

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Park Jimin has never regretted something more in his life. Sure there was the time when he hadn’t listened to his mom when she told him not to climb that one tree in their backyard, which ended with him in a very itchy cast and a long scolding from his mom. Now, years later, he wished his mom had warned him before he gave you a part of him you’d never want or need; his heart.

It’s not like he didn’t know what he was getting himself into, he knew you held his heart in your small hands (even smaller than his, HA! ) and he thought he didn’t care. Oh how naive he’d been to think that.

2 months ago:

It had been exactly seven months and three days since he realized he was in love with you, his best friend of six years. You had cried in his arms over Aaron? Adam?? He couldn’t really remember who it was this time.

“Why won’t he love me?” His heart breaks as you look at him as though you really want an answer. “Why won’t any of them love me?”

His fingers twitch at your waist. He wants to scream about how much he loves you but he refrains, settling instead for a small pained smile. He doesn’t try to say anything, not trusting himself to not ask you the exact same question. Why won’t you love him? He hugs you harder into his chest as a new wave of tears rack through your body.

He was wearing the purple hoodie you’d once mentioned you loved seeing him in. It was beginning to fray on the left shoulder where you’d always lean into while you cried. Not that you’d notice anyway, but he always wore it when you called with a shaky voice and he invited you over. It felt like it was yours, same as his heart.

He didn’t know how you couldn’t see it. The way he’d drop anything and everything for you. Let you pick any version of himself, let you mould him in any way if it would get you to love him back. He’d always adored you, and somewhere along the line you’d subliminally snatched his heart.

Maybe you’d never love him the way he did you, but he had hope. His heart was big enough. No matter how long it took, how many times you unknowingly broke it, he’d always have enough left to give to you.

He watched you cry and only when you finally curled up, something between a wheeze and a snore coming from you did he speak.

“I love you, i love you forever. Promise.”

He knew you hadn’t even heard the promise he’d made to you two months ago, yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty knowing he needed to break it. His friends knew him to be very loving, very selfless, he feels selfish now. He’s leaving merely to save his own heart, breaking yours (though for a totally different reason) in the process.

He’d watched as you gave your heart to different men, never once thinking to give it to him. He was never even an option for you and that hurt. You couldn’t blame him for falling for you, not when you cared so deeply for everyone continuously giving your heart no matter how many times it broke you just gave and gave. The two of you are similar in that sense.

Loving you is painful, like he’s bursting into flames and freezing at the same time. He can’t keep this up. He doesn’t know how to act around you anymore. Hugging you was never a problem, everyone knows how touchy and affectionate he is, however every hug he’s given you in the last few months, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He usually wears his heart on his sleeve, now he feels he needs to constantly check himself hoping you didn’t catch him smiling dopily in your direction.

Jimin couldn’t talk to you without wondering if something he said sounded suspiciously like an ‘i love you’. He couldn’t even listen to his favourite songs anymore, they all reminded him of you, probably because you introduced him to most of them, it hurt all the same.

Had he fallen out of line when he kissed you on the cheek days ago?

He remembers thinking he was invincible when he made that promise, thinking his heart could take it. He also remembers you saying you’d never love someone as much as Andrew? What was his name damnit?

He noticed everything about you, and frankly he was tired. He needed some time to think, to rebuild his heart. To un-notice everything.

He zips up his suitcase, the moving van would be by in a bit to pick up the remaining boxes. The daisies on his windowsill that you got him for his birthday last year are drying up, he notices with a sigh. With one last glance at the room he releases his grasp on the purple hoodie and walks out the front door.

He hasn’t answered your calls all day, and he probably wouldn’t for a while... not that you know that. You think nothing of it as you drive up to his house, eyes puffy from all the crying you’ve been doing. Alex had just called asking to take a break, something about you being too intense and you couldn’t help but replay every moment in your head wondering where you went wrong. You badly needed to rant to your support system otherwise known as Jimin, craving one of his hugs.

You don’t even notice his black Porsche missing from his driveway. And you don’t think much of it when he doesn’t answer the door, simply pulling out the spare key he gave you for moments just like this.

You do, however, notice the emptiness of his house. Where in the heck did his couch go? And why is his house so cold? Where are all the pictures of the two of you and his family that decorated his walls. You’re beginning to get frantic as you search through room after room for something, anything to make this less real. To show you he’ll be back shortly. That he didn’t just up and leave.

Whatever the reason, you’re sure you can get him to come back, or at least talk to you. “Chim?” Your voice echoes through his hallway. Your converse screech on the bare floor and you’re running down the hall to his bedroom. You’re stumbling now, eyes blurry with tears and you call out again “Jimin?” He was really gone.

You only just catch yourself before you hit the ground. You stare at the purple material that had snagged your foot. A purple hoodie lies by you on the floor. You’re sobbing.

Jimin swears the distance between his house and where he’d parked his car a block away wasn’t this long. He’s panting as he grips the door handle, stumbling inside with sweat making his recently dyed-pink hair stick to his forehead.

It was definitely rash of him to just leave the hoodie behind. It was too sentimental to just leave here to collect dust until the landlord discovered it. He missed it already. It smelt partially of you after all your cuddling sessions, and as embarrassing as it might sound, he needed it.

He jogs down the hallway, all the memories the two of you had here send a pang straight to his chest that has him tripping over his feet. That’s when he hears it. Sniffling. Someone was sniffling in his house. More curious than scared, the boy takes cautious steps past the bathroom and towards his bedroom.

His hand comes to rest over his heart, when he sees a head of long pink hair, shade identical to his save for the few bleached streaks he’d missed when the two of you had dyed each other’s hair. His fingers itch to bring you to his chest. You were crying. Because of him.

He reaches out to touch you, his first instinct being to pull you into him, but he stops in his spot when the floorboards beneath him creak. He waits for you to whip around and hug him, maybe scream at him for scaring you with his absence like that. His face scrunches up at your words.

“I can’t do this without you, why would you just leave?”

Jimin has to press a hand into his mouth to keep the sob threatening to expose him silent. Why was he not surprised. Of course you hadn’t noticed how much he’d been struggling the past few months. How his love for you far surpassed that of a best friend. He doesn’t know why he thought you might have noticed. In fact, when was the last time he’d talked to you about his problems?

Whatever fragments there are left of his heart ache. He suddenly misses his mom. Misses her scolding more than anything else, that would hurt much less than this does.

Jimin does what he knows he must.

Like most Jimin related things, you don’t notice what hoodie it is, don’t notice the frayed shoulder, and you most certainly don’t notice the boy who had come back for the hoodie backing away, quiet tears running down his face.

[intothewickedwood]

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 6x14 Page 23

Okay what episode do we have today?

Ah okay, a Regina centric. That’s cool.

Is that the same guard Snow stripped naked in 1x16? Whaaaat?! Just looked it up and it totally is! Awesome call back! I’m going to name him Jim.

Oh my God, she killed Jim!!

Wait, so this has to be after Heart of Darkness.

The terrified look on that woman’s face when Regina strokes her chin, looks at her longingly and tells her she loves her. Omg Regina was in love with this woman all along! It was never about Daniel. It was about Christina! I’m naming her Christina. 

They are my otp now.

How did Tinker Bell get out of neverland? Pan decides when people leave, and I doubt he’d let her leave just to pay a visit with the Evil Queen. But then and again maybe it was all part of his big plan.

Oh. Pixie dust doesn’t dictate who your true love is. It just shows you possibilities. That’s not what you said before, Tinker Bell!

Regina, we all know you spared her because she’s your ex-girlfriend.

Actually, this visit from Tinker Bell is odd because she doesn’t seem angry at all like when she, like, wanted to kill Regina in 3x03. How did she go from, “okay. I lost my wings because of you but it’s all cool. I just want my otp together.” to “I’m gonna f***ing drug you with pixie dust and rip your heart out!”?

Also, this is the Evil Queen I like to see. So cold, terrifying and breaking on the inside. I’m not a fan of the humorous one in 6x02. I wish Split Queen was more like this as well. Ah different writers and director. Interesting.

Split Queen: “…not some burlap-loving peasant who sleeps on dirt.” Wish Robin: “Excuse me, I sleep on hay.” Important distinction!

Snow’s so excited about the wedding, bless her.

Lol Zelena just drags Emma’s hand to look at her ring. My girl loves shiny things! And how could I forget, her otp is getting married! She is in heaven right now!

I love Emma just casually talking to Zelena like they’re gal pals at a sleepover. More of this please! 

I can see what sqers say about this scene. Regina really does look hurt by the notion of Emma getting married. There is no heterosexual reason for her to react like this unless she’s in love with Hook. I think this is the only time they hug. Man, I feel so bad for sqers because upon this rewatch I can really see where they are coming from with that interpretation. It’s definitely there. And then they hug because Emma’s getting married to someone else. I would be so upset if that was my otp. What am I talking about, I watched 10 seasons of Smallville as a hardcore Chloe x Clark shipper. I think this exact scenario played out and it freaking hurts! 

In other news, I am so in love with Snow. Have I mentioned that? I feel like I haven’t mentioned it in a while and it needs to be said. 

I’m also in love with David, in case you forgot. I want to join their marriage. Can I join their marriage? I’m joining their marriage. Emma, I’m your mummy now. Don’t think about the age difference too much. 

I’ve eaten a lot of chocolate already today. Can you tell? I feel so alive! I want to share my social security number and be freeee!! I am trying to block out my anxiety about having to move house again next friday. Yep, that’s right, 4th place in two years. I think I will write all of these high on chocolate.

What would happen if you cut your hair with those sheers? Or your garden bush? No, that is not a euphemism, you dirty bastards (affectionate). 

I haven’t had a haircut in 10 years. Holy cow! That’s why my afro is so big, it’s full of secrets. 

Nemo is your dad now, Hook. Even though I’m pretty sure he’s a lot younger than you. 

He called him “My boy.” hehe.

I remember when I thought Hook and Rumple had the same mother. That would have been quite the twist.

I thought that vase of flowers was a giant cauliflower. Did you know broccoli, cauliflower, cabbages, brussels sprouts and turnips are all related? I wonder what thanksgivings are like when they all get together. Probably not fun for them. 

See what I did there xD? 

Emma: “This is my fault. I’m the one who convinced you to bring him here. It’s on me.” Regina: “Emma, you don’t have anything to make up for. You were just trying to help.” Omg, this compared to when she told Emma she’d ruined her life because Emma saved Marian. The development. I really appreciate this change because I nearly lost it with Regina when that was her attitude. 

Screw it, I’m making bean enchiladas. Brb. I’ll save you some!

I’m back! They’re in the oven. Anyone wants the recipe hmu! They’re veggie! 

You just know Split Queen and Wish Robin have a sexy dungeon in their castle. They just do.

Enchanted ropes would have been useful in so many situations.

The enchiladas are ready! Repeat after me, Becky: “I will remember oven gloves this time, I will remember oven gloves this time.”

Robin is so into Split Queen. He wants her to live with him and everything, even though they just met. 

I don’t think that arrow would have taken her to Robin since it takes her to the thing she loves most. She can’t love someone she’s never met. We all know it would shoot Christina right in the ass. That’s true love biatches! Evil Peasant 5ever!

Oh snap! Emma found Hook looking at himself killing her grandfather??! I completely forgot about this!

Why does she say, “That’s David’s father”? Why doesn’t she say, “That’s my grandfather,” or “That’s my dad’s dad”? She hasn’t called her dad ‘David’ in years. It’s like she’s trying to separate herself from the victim as much as possible.

She’s not even a little bit upset he killed her dad’s dad? That that event caused her father so much pain? She’s just infuriated that he tried to burn his memory. I mean, yes, she should be angry about that but where’s the empathy for her dad at least? I didn’t know any of my grandfathers well but if I found out I was engaged to someone who did that I would be angry for my grandparent, angry for my parent and angry for myself. I’m just speechless that that’s all she cares about. It seems so out of character. But then and again Regina had her other grandad killed. 

And now he’s gonna leave because he rightfully got told off. Can’t say I’d offer the same thing but she said, “until you’re ready” not “you’ll never be ready”, dude. 

I think he’s just scared David will punch him in the face at this point. It’s the only explanation for doing the exact opposite thing Emma asked of him.

“Captain Hook is always welcome on the Nautilus.” More like welcome on the naughty list after that stunt.

She doesn’t want a man, Henry Sr. She just confessed her deep, passionate, sexual love for Christina like 20 minutes ago, remember? Sometimes I wonder why I bother. It’s not even subtext, dude. Get it together, man.

Why don’t they fight themselves with magic?

Her dad is so heartbroken the person Regina hates most is herself. 

That is really sad that the person she hates most his herself. I can relate.

Yes! Launch those apples at yourself! 

My conversations with myself be like-

Oh boy. This is too reminiscent of conversations with myself. Yes, I sword fight myself wearing a fancy black, cleavage-revealing dress in my head all the time. Only joking, I wear trilby hats. 

Oh okay. Now they’re tying each other up. I see what this is really about. I still haven’t bleached the “we do like it rough, don’t we Regina?” line from my mind. 

I suppose she did take back some of her own darkness. But I was hoping she would just merge herself back together. That would have been a really predictable outcome, but I just would have preferred it. 

This scene is so weird lol, but it helped me tremendously. I used to hate myself so, so much. You don’t even understand. It was like a violent hatred for myself for not fitting in and for every single little mistake I’d ever made. Then with a lot of self- healing and the help of this episode I began my journey into loving myself. I wrote on a sticky note “Love yourself. If the Evil Queen can do it, so can you.” and stuck it to my wall. Nothing I’ve done is comparable to what the Evil Queen has done and if she can learn to love herself, why can’t everyone else. Anyone who’s struggling with self-hatred, please take this episode to heart. You are worthy of love, most importantly from yourself. Any time you find yourself hating yourself just try to remember this scene and that the flipping Evil Queen of all people recognised the importance of self-love and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought. She damn well gave herself a chance. I’ve heard a good technique is looking in the mirror and telling yourself what you love about you. Even if you’re not feeling it at first, you could get into the habit of it and your brain will start to accept those words as true. Because they are true.

Aww she sees the Charmings as her family. 

Regina: “it did give me hope when I needed it most, and that is just as important.” Oh my God, preach the word Regina! Regina is preaching with fire today! 

It’s like she’s having a therapy session with herself. I need to do that. I really do. Then I need to get actual therapy lol xD. But baby steps! 

Okay. A loophole as to how he can change Split Queen’s story. You know what, at this point I’ve learnt just to go with it.

Can Snow and Zelena be best friends? Please. It’s literally all I want in life. And to join Snowing’s marriage. I’m not asking for much. I’ll talk about it in self-therapy.

Henry’s got Gideon’s haircut now. He wants to be cool like his uncle.

I want to look at myself with the love and adoration Regina looks at herself with. We should all get to that point where we look like we’re about to intensely make out with ourselves when we look in the mirror. 

I know what they were doing with page 23. I just wish Split Queen had changed her outfit so it could have been exactly like the page illustration. But I don’t think it was meant to predict the future. It was just one of Isaac’s fanfictions, wasn’t it? Hmm. I think it was a mystery to him as well if I can remember correctly.

It’s nice that oq shippers got their ship in the end in one form.

Snow is just constantly high up to her eyeballs on hope, bless her. 

Emma needs a dog. She seems like such a dog person.

Also, that enchilada was yumilicious, if I do say so myself.

[drawlfoy]

Colorblind

masterlist request guidelines yes ma’am i’m back

pairing: draco x gryffindor!reader

request: yes! thank you kind anon :) this is the first request that really got me out of my writer’s block so i appreciate it!

summary: soulmate!au where the entire world is black and white except for your soulmate. y/n’s situation is a bit...unconventional. 

warnings: swearing and a little gore but it’s not explicit at all and just a mention

a/n: helloooooooo everyone! i know i’ve technically been “back from the dead” for nearly a month now, but this is the first time i’ve decided to jump back into writing. i’ve been working on the wonders of ohio bit by bit and have been horrified to see just how much my writing has deteriorated since last summer (when i was writing 1k words+ a day). i’d like to get into writing genuine original work during this quarantine, so i’m using my blog as a chance to polish up my own writing and work the kinks out before i touch my original ideas. thanks for being so patient with me !

music recs: figure 8 from peach pit, don’t delete the kisses from wolf alice, and bad things from cailin russo

word count: 3,098

Y/N frowned as she stirred the honey into her tea, watching the sugary swirls as they dissolved into the bottom of what she had been told was an amber drink. Her best friend, Tina, sat across from her in her snug Gryffindor robes, energetically recounting just how beautiful the color blue was.

“I had no idea, Y/N,” the brunette gushed, her cold triangle of buttered toast lying long forgotten on her plate as her hands added animation to her story. “You have to see it. He told me that the red in our robes brings out my eyes too--something about the color wheel and how green is opposite of red--and we made each other hold up our things so we could see what color its meant to be...honestly, it was such a dream...”

Even though Y/N was thrilled that Tina had found her soulmate in the convenient place of the Ravenclaw house--really, she was ecstatic for her friend--she couldn’t help but feel a little sad. She did quell the bitterness and envy that threatened to crawl its way up out of her throat, instead choosing to sit and pretend to listen as her own thoughts trailed off with a vacant smile on her face.

She’d been alive for 16 years, seen everyone there is to see at Hogwarts, traveled to every country that had a sizable young magic population, and had let her parents submit pictures of her to wizarding families all across the globe--only to still live in a dull world of simple blacks, whites, and greys. Friends like Tina had told her vibrant stories of the stunning hues of green, blue, red, purple, and gold, but Y/N had no way of knowing what they actually looked like, relying instead on her parents’ soft explanation of green as the color of life, blue as the color of peace, red as passion and anger, and yellow as the feeling of the sun hitting your skin after a long winter. 

Infuriating. She despised the security questions she had to fill out to open her Gringotts account (What’s your soulmate’s surname? What’s your favorite color?) and the unimpressed look of the goblin teller as they quietly conferred with her parents (”Sir, we rarely have complaints over this--statistically speaking, soulmates are found by the time a wizard or witch is old enough to handle money...). 

In other news, her love life was barren and dry, and at the end of the day, it was better to just not dwell on where she fell short. 

“I’ll stop going on about me,” Tina said, finally reaching down for her breakfast. “I want to hear about you. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with that crabby posh Daddy’s boy in Potions. You have my moral support. Always.”

“You mean Malfoy?”

Tina quirked an eyebrow as she took a sip of her own tea. “Yeah. Y/N, I have no clue how you’ve gone so long without being put off by that wanker. He’s so annoying. I know you don’t believe me, but you’re about to see for yourself in...erm..” She made a show of checking her pocket watch. “Less than an hour.”

“He doesn’t seem that bad,” Y/N countered. “I’ve spoken to him once or twice in the library. Doesn’t have much to say, but he was cordial. I’m not horrendously upset that we were assigned to be partners.”

“Did he know you were a Gryffindor?”

“I have no idea. Neither of us were wearing our robes, so I couldn’t tell you.”

Y/N’s friend rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’re going to be singing a very different tune come lunch. Trust me.”

<^>

The wooden stool that Y/N was perched on was uncomfortably wobbly as she waited, albeit a little nervously, for her potions partner to arrive. It had been an unwelcome selection process--or perhaps, lackthereof--that began with Slughorn reading off a canned speech regarding house unity and the importance of bridging the gap between old rivalries and ended with groups that consisted of one Slytherin and one Gryffindor and directions to create an immaculate Draught of Peace.

Not her favorite way to spend a Friday morning, but she admitted to herself that it could be far worse. She could be paired up with one of Malfoy’s goons--Crabbe or Goyle--who were by far much more obnoxious.

A slight movement in the corner of her eye pulled her attention back to the present. Y/N started at the dark figure standing by the empty stool next to her.

“Excuse me,” Malfoy said simply, placing his satchel on the table in front of them and sitting.

Y/N sent him a weak smile as she unrolled her parchment and began reviewing the ingredients. 

“I don’t mean to sound brash,” she began as she sorted the ingredients at their table, “but I’m pretty good at Potions. If you want to, you can just read the directions while I prepare everything.”

He seemed like he wasn’t quite listening to what she was saying, instead his eyes, unfocused and slightly cloudy, were settled on her braid that snaked around her shoulder.”Er, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Okay.”

As the pair began, Y/N couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy looked tired. His normally pristine and glowing skin looked dull and lifeless, decorated with dark eye bags under his slate-grey eyes. She was struck with a sudden desire to ask if he was alright but decided against it. The furrow in his brow as he glanced over the directions reminded her that they were simply partners for the week--and that Slytherins generally got into a hissy fit if people tried to act too buddy-buddy with them too quickly.

“Add the moonstone until it starts to steam,” he said after a few moments, apparently not noticing that she was already emptying the powdered moonstone into the cauldron. “Stir until completely dissolved.”

“Add syrup of hellebore.”

“Stir until the consistency is akin to cream.”

This went on for the rest of the lesson--Malfoy softly instructing her while Y/N consulted her own set of directions, just in case. As she worked, she couldn’t help but notice how unusual his hair was. It was unlike any other white she’d ever seen before--instead, it had some kind of warm hue to it. Y/N knew that no one her age actually had naturally white hair--Malfoy clearly had some iteration of “blond”, whatever that meant--but all the other light haired  wizards she had met had slightly grey tinges in their hair...not whatever he had going on. She shrugged it off and kept stirring.

An hour passed by much quicker than anticipated, and to her surprise, Malfoy never said anything even mildly irritating. Y/N stored this tidbit of information away with the interest of asking Tina why she thought he was such a dickwad. 

“I think that’s all we have to do today,” Malfoy said once they had added the porcupine quills and set the lid on for the night. 

“We really let it sit here until Monday?” she questioned, reviewing the parchment one more time. “That seems a little excessive.”

“Well, it’s not like--” He began waspishly before he took a breath and cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Er, I mean, I know that Slughorn casts a preservation spell on them over the weekend. There’s really no other way to do it without booking an entire day.” 

“I guess that makes sense.” 

He sent a surprisingly soft smile her way. It appeared that they had finished earlier than the rest of the students and had a couple more minutes until they were dismissed, so the silence around them was tense. Y/N decided to take a risk and ask something she assumed everyone, especially someone as allegedly ostentatious as Malfoy, liked talking about.

“So,” she began casually, twiddling her thumbs under the desk, “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

The few moments of complete and absolute quiet that followed after this question prompted her to send a glance over to Malfoy, who looked...completely stricken?

“Er....” His eyebrows furrowed as he looked her up and down. “Yes?”

Y/N had never had an interaction so awkward as she waited, tense and very weirded out, for him to just go ahead and pose the question back to her so she could break the ice and complain about how she’d searched far and wide for her soulmate and failed--but it never came. Malfoy just stared at her for another few heartbeats before he shut his slightly gaped mouth and turned to pack up his belongings.

Not another word was exchanged between them until Slughorn officially announced that they were all dismissed as long as their brewing stations were spotless. 

Malfoy was out the door before she even had a chance to say goodbye.

<^>

“So?” Tina sat at the edge of her seat, waiting for her friend to relay all the details of her potions adventure.

“Super weird,” Y/N answered. “He was nice. Didn’t say anything mean about my house or parents or wealth or anything. I asked him about his soulmate, though, and he totally clammed up.”

Tina’s eyes narrowed as she shifted on her bench and drew closer. “I haven’t heard a whisper of anything about his soulmate. Poor bloke probably doesn’t have one. I’m not surprised...no one deserves to be stuck with him forever.”

“No, that’s not it,” Y/N countered. “First of all, he’s not bad. I told you. Second of all, he told me he had one and looked at me like I was stupid for not knowing. It was weird.”

“I wouldn’t sweat it. He probably thinks he’s so important and sought after that all anyone talks about is him and was just offended that you didn’t know, I guess. This is what I mean. He’s such a prick.”

“Maybe.” Y/N found herself looking over to the Slytherin table, her eyes stopping on the curiously colored hair of a certain 6th year. He seemed especially down, hardly touching the spoon in his stew and choosing to look like the definition of angst instead. 

But in a very attractive way she admitted to herself. There was no denying it--Draco Malfoy was beautiful, in a tragic sort of way, like how paintings of imaginary places that you’ll never be able to actually visit for yourself are beautiful. 

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, jarring her out of her whimsical train of thought and bringing a blush to her cheeks. For once, she was relieved that no one could see her in color.

<^>

By the time Monday rolled around, Y/N was feeling more and more uneasy about her whole situation. Malfoy ignited some kind of weird feeling deep inside of her--almost like butterflies--as he absentmindedly tapped his lips with his quill, studying the directions sheet in front of them.

“How was your weekend?” Y/N asked, her voice a little pitchier than she would’ve liked. He arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at this, hardly even bothering to glance her direction. 

“The usual,” he drawled. “I studied, mostly.”

“Nice. Way to keep us all on our toes.”

The slight smile that stretched across his face and the dimples that followed nearly made her knees weak, her hand shooting out to grasp the edge of the table before they gave in. “Yeah. You know me. The wild card.” His voice seemed bored, but she was just glad that the words coming out of his mouth weren’t entirely insufferable. 

Y/N sent him a soft smile, fiddling with the edges of her robes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tina watching them intently.

“We only have to stir it 12 times counter clockwise and 14 times clockwise and add the unicorn horn powder before we let it simmer until Wednesday,” Y/N mused as she finally tossed the parchment back on the table. “Easy work. We should be done in about a half hour, give or take.”

They made quick work of the directions, the smell of their potion taking an amiable lilac like scent. 

“I think that means we didn’t royally fuck it up,” Draco offered as she rolled her sleeves back down and settled into the stool next to him.

Y/N smirked at him, a glimmer in her eyes. “We? Don’t you mean me?”

He laughed stiffly before immediately sobering up and packing up his things. “Sure. I’m going to ask Slughorn if I can leave early. See you.”

With that, he got up and left her alone. At face value, Y/N didn’t expect the situation to mean that much to her, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth and stung more than expected.

Shake out of it, Y/N, she chided herself. What does it matter, anyways?

<^>

A knock on her dorm room shook her out of a particularly thrilling study session for her DADA exam, whose notes she promptly shoved into her satchel at the suggestion of a welcome distraction.

“Come in!” she called. 

The door opened to reveal a particularly devious looking Tina. “I come with questions.”

“Please distract me from that tragic exam tomorrow,” she moaned, throwing herself on her bed. “Anything is better than thinking about it.”

Tina’s lip quirked as she settled down next to her friend. “It’s about your dear Potions partner.”

“What about him?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you were looking at him today.” Tina propped her chin up into her hand. “You like him.”

“I most certainly do not!” Y/N said hotly. “I mean...I think he’s cute, and his hair reflects the light in this really cool way, but no! I’m not an idiot!”

“Of course you’re not an idiot,” Tina soothed. “He’s objectively a very pretty person. No harm in appreciating that. And now that you’ve spent a little more time with him, and you’re realizing that maybe he isn’t an arsehole, I could totally understand why you’d develop feelings for him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“How am I being ridiculous?”

“He’s already found his soulmate, Tina. I’m not masochistic enough to want to pine after a boy who already has his person.” As the weight of the words sunk in, Y/N could feel her chest tighten for just a moment. Tina just kept watching as she moved to gently wrap a hand around her shoulder.

“So say I do like him, just a little bit,” Y/N continued as her voice grew softer. “Say I actually let myself develop feelings for him even though I know there’s no way he’s my soulmate. Say I actually give in and have to see him every day knowing that he’s in love with someone else. Don’t you think that’s a little too much for me? I want to find my soulmate! I don’t want to mess around with anyone unless it’s with them.”

Her friend was quiet, but she moved her arm to wrap around Y/N’s frame. 

“I’d just really like to find my soulmate already,” Y/N finished up. “And I’m afraid that they’re not even out there. So, no. No detours allowed.”

Tina smiled a little at this, sitting up to instead pat her friend on the back. “You’ve always been the more focused one. I respect that. But I am saying that there’s no harm in seeing other people while you wait.”

Y/N shrugged. “Yeah. Fairs. Now, I hate to say this, but I have a list of spells a metre long just waiting to be memorized for the exam tomorrow. I’d love to tell you the rest of all my gushy secrets once that’s taken care of.”

“Of course!” Tina kissed her friend on the cheek and skipped off. “Just don’t go too crazy studying. I still need a best friend to bitch to at breakfast.”

“No promises!”

<^> 

“Add a little more powdered moonstone,” Malfoy instructed from her right, “Just until it starts to boil.” 

Y/N went to reach for it, catching a glimpse of her partner on the way. There was something just so magnetizing about him, something so delicate and stunning. She couldn’t help but feel a quick twinge of envy for whoever his soulmate was. 

The sound of the moonstone slipping into the potion pulled her back into reality, and she quickly stirred to avoid an unwelcome explosion. 

“And now the chopped gillyweed.” 

Y/N turned to their stockpile of ingredients, only to see whole cloves of gillyweed.

“I have to confess something,” she said, still stirring vigorously. Malfoy snapped to attention so quickly it almost made her jump. “I’m shit with a knife. Can you chop it for me? I have to keep stirring this anyways.”

What looked like disappointment flashed across his face for just a moment before he stood up and reached for a knife. “Sure.”

Y/N nodded and turned back to the concoction, careful to make sure that the moonstone wasn’t clumping together at the surface as she waited for Malfoy to be done with the gillyweed.

“Fuck!” 

Y/N turned to see Malfoy’s hand covered in--no way.

His hand was covered in blood, as was the knife that was held tightly by his right hand. 

“Fuck, fuck, can you hand me a towel?”

Y/N couldn’t help but stare as the words from her parents floated back into her head (Green is the color of life, blue is peace, red is passion and anger...). 

“It’s red.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Your hand. It’s red.” Now that she looked closer, she could see hints of colors that she’d never seen before in him--a soft hue that reminded her of first kisses and the scent of roses in his cheeks and lips, a warm, sunny glow in his hair, and a cool, startling color in his eyes that seemed like the color for getting thrown into a cold lake on a summer afternoon.

He was staring right back at her, his eyes wide and his breathing quick. 

“It’s you, isn’t it,” she breathed. “It’s been you all along. If only you hadn’t worn those blasted black suits all the time instead of your robes..”

The corners of his mouth crinkled into a smile.

“Ms. Y/L/N, step out of the way,” Professor Slughorn interrupted, rolling up his sleeves and getting his wand out. “Draco, boy, this looks deep. Get on up to the infirmary now. Don’t dally.” 

“Meet me,” he whispered as he made to leave. “Tonight. In front of the library. I guess we have some things to discuss.”

“Yes, yes, I guess we do.” Y/N cheeks were hurting from smiling, and as he left the room, the color fading from her vision, she had never been so content to be in pain in her life.

final a/n: hi everyone :) welcome back! can’t wait to write more! sorry if this was a bit of a trainwreck...i haven’t written in a long time and this is the first thing i’ve done since college apps. all feedback is appreciated! thank you! also apologies for any plotholes or spelling errors! i wrote this in a day and i know it’s a little messy oops

[linkspooky]

Right now, people are speculating if tomura has lost his humanity which includes his attachment to the league now that he was awakened with his new quirk as a ‘transcendent being’. I wonder how he will interact with his team when he returns? Will he question how the heroes managed to get the jump on them? How will he react to twice’s death? To Dabi letting in a hero spy into their lair and causing this raid and twice’s death? Is the tomura we have seen grow disappeared or is he still the same?

SHIGARAKI TOMURA - A VERY HUMAN VILLAIN

People may question if Shigaraki Tomura has lost his humanity since acquiring AFO’s power, however I would like to point out that it’s a running theme in the manga for characters to frequently question the humanity of Shigaraki and see him as something less than human, or a force that only exists for evil and destruction. 

However, despite the fact that the heroes and Shigaraki’s enemies insist that Shigaraki has lost his humanity, the story shows the opposite. As much as Shigaraki has changed over the course of the story, he has also stayed the same. 

Shigaraki started out as a kid who wanted to be a hero who saved others, and specifically a kid who would go out of his way to play with the bullied kids. Everyone knows this by now, I would say however growing up in that household shaped Shigaraki to have core values that don’t really change no matter how much he changes as a person. 

Number one, the most important thing to Shigaraki is freedom. In a childish way he sees it as the freedom to do whatever he wants, because that is how All For One influenced him. 

All for One specifically told Shigaraki that being born with the power to destroy means that he should use it without restraint, and never try to hold himself back because in doing so he’ll only hurt himself. AFO tried to influence him to be an unstable manchild because that would make him more dangerous and fearsome to the general public.

However, Shigaraki’s destruction is always a response. He always destroys for a reason no matter how much he insists his destruction is completely random. One of the key themes of My Hero Academia is that in times of crisis you will remember your origin. Shigaraki’s origin is a household that oppressed him to the extent that he wasn’t allowed to become a hero. All he wanted was someone in that household to agree with him rather than deny him. He wanted people to stop telling him he was wrong. 

Shigaraki values freedom, specifically freedom from oppression. Oppression that specifically denies the needs of an individual just because they disrupt society. For example, the opppression that had Himiko’s parents turn abusive on her calling her a demon child because she was born with a strange quirk. 

In that way Shigaraki fights for a kind of true liberation, different from what the liberation force fights for. The Meta Liberation Army while wanting to overturn society also repeated several of society’s oppressive attitude, juding people’s worth based entirely on the strength of their quirk whereas Shigaraki is willing to accept people like Compress, and Spinner who do not have super powerful combat efficient quirks and value them just as much as all the other members from his team. 

Shigaraki also knows the feelings of someone who has not been saved. He’s reflected on this several times, even as early back as his conversation with Deku. He knows that the way the current society functions, it ignores the plights of victims like him that are either too inconvenient to save. 

It’s what Shigaraki says to Deku word for word: “I could hurt you right now and not a single person would come save you. They’ll all walk by and pretend it’s none of their business, because they all think a hero is going to come save them.”

Shigaraki is willing to give people like Twice a chance, even though he was insane and his quirk no longer worked as well as it once did. Not only that, but when people make mistakes Shigaraki never throws them away. Giran is captured and ratted them out, and Shigaraki went to go save them. Twice makes a mistake and because of that Magne is killed, but rather than get angry at Twice, Shigaraki simply asks Twice to do his best to make up for his mistake, and that he’ll be doing his best alongside him. 

Shigaraki understands the feelings of: “If only somebody had saved me” better than anyone else in the manga. This is something that even the kids don’t question. The kids in their complete and unwavering faith in the hero system can’t even respond to questions like “Who should you really be saving?” 

Shigaraki also goes out of his way to save people even after they’ve made mistakes, or betrayed the league. Giran ratted on them and got nearly every member killed, and yet not only did Shigaraki walk right into a trap to save him, he also took special care to make sure he was alive, and rescued safely when he was in the middle of getting pounded. 

The final is also somewhat of a paradox. Shigaraki has been manipulated to think that he hated his family, and  wanted to kill everyone. 

However, all of Shigaraki’s actions show the opposite. Not only does Shigaraki feel guilt for killing his family several years after the fact. Not only did he intentionally hold back his quirk at first because he was afraid of killing again. The words of his family stayed with him. Shigaraki only ever remembers his family in a mostly positive light. 

In his heart, Shigaraki holds himself accountable for what he did to his family even though it was an accident. At the same time, it’s revealed to us in his dream sequence that he already forgives his family for what transpired today, he remembers his grandparents being kind to him, he doesn’t resent his mom for just watching what his family did to him and even reassures her, he tells his sister he doesn’t care that she tattled on him anymore. 

His family is someone he can never forget in both senses of the word. He doesn’t forget the times his family household was kind to him, the genuine love his mother, grandparents, and sister all showed to him, and he hasn’t really stopped mourning them ever for a single moment. He even still keeps Nana’s hand, the last hand that wasn’t broken and wears it after his so called “liberation” from his past memories of them. Yet, at the same time he doesn’t allow his family to deny who he is. 

Shigaraki is someone who has been influenced by people all of ihs life, his abusive father, AFO, and then all of AFO’s constituents and the other villains he’s fought against so far. However, at the same time Shigaraki has remained the same kid throughout all of this. Always Shimura Tenko. Always the kid who wanted to play with the kids who got bullied. Always the kid resentful he didn’t get saved. 

2. Shigaraki is better than what created him

Eri is referred to as a cursed inhuman existence born only to destroy, simply because of the quirk she was born with, completely neglecting who Eri is as a person. Deku however says that just by slightly changing your perspective, you can see how kind and gentle Eri is. 

Shigaraki is a character much like this. The people around him, mostly heroes always insist that he’s inhuman and again and again that he can only want destruction because of his quirk. Yet, the people closest to Shigaraki know how kind, and gentle he can be. 

So we have characters like All Might, Mr. Completely Ignores Endeavor’s abuse of his own family, constantly saying that someone like Shigaraki can’t possibly have a cause for all of his destruction. Ignoring what Shigaraki says when he tells them that heroes can be violent too just like villains, their violence is just categorized differently. 

Shigaraki is continually told he has no reason for wanting to destroy things, that there could be no possible motivation behind his actions. This is something that even AFO himself said, that Shigaraki simply lusted for destruction because he was born that way.

Characters insist again, that Shigaraki isn’t capable of creating anything, or achieving anything because he can only destroy. This is an identity that’s forced on him by his environment ut it’s not who he is at the center of his being. Even when he’s getting the tar beaten out of him by Re-Destro what he thinks is not that he wants to destroy, but rather that he wanted his family to tell him it was okay for him to be a hero.

So we reach the most recent chapter with someone once again asserting that Shigaraki cannot possibly want anything other than to hurt the people around him, and destroy what he can.

Even ENDEAVOR (lol) of all people accuses Shigaraki of not fighting for the right ideals. Yet, Shigaraki has always shown to be fighting for something. 

People insist that Shigaraki was just born that way, that he just wants to destroy. Yet, there are very specific environmental factors that shaped him into who he is. Shigaraki who apparently has no reasons for doing the things he does, has the longest backstory in the series (four origin chapters in total if you count Shigaraki Tomura: Distortion). Shigaraki’s line against Endeavor also implies that Shigaraki has been fighting for the same thing from the start. That he’s always had a cause, something to fight for (or maybe even just fight against) and that he simply believed what other people constantly told him. 

So, no clearly the All For One quirk being given to Shigaraki has not changed who he is as a person at all. Shigaraki’s thoughts always rest with his friends and his family.  Shigaraki’s first literal action upon waking up is to call Machia to his side, and protect the league. Shigaraki’s actions also saved Himiko, because if Machia had not picked her up she likely would have gone on a suicide mission. 

So, there is one last point I want to make: The reason the plan is going so wrong right now is precisely because Shigaraki is someone who chooses again and again to put his trust in others. First, it went wrong because not only did he allow Dabi free reign to invite whoever he wanted to the league, but he also trusted Twice with his location. 

Shigaraki won’t throw Dabi out of the league for saying that he’s only here to use the league for his own benefit, because Shigaraki has always known this about Dabi and lets him work with the league anyway. Shigaraki is someone who puts his allies before themselves and gives them the freedom to be who they want to be. 

Shigaraki has said mutliple times the league can do whatever they want. He’s not really selfishly minded or motivated like AFO is. If anything, Shigaraki is much more likely to sacrifice himself, or put the group’s needs first. The Shigaraki that we’ve seen right now is the same progression of the Shigaraki we’ve always known: he fights on the front lines to draw the heroes away from his friends, he fights himself instead of needlessly risking his own allies, he needs his allies by his side. 

The raid happened because of Shigaraki’s trusting nature twice. Not only because he allowed Dabi to invite Hawks to the league, but also Kurogiri’s capture and betrayal someone Shigaraki was genuinely close to and listened to for counsel led to his location at the hospital being ratted out to both Eraserhead and Mic. So it’s not Shigaraki not trusting others that led to the Hospital Raid, but rather it’s because Shigaraki chose to trust others that this is all happening.

YET, when this happened last time with Overhaul Shigaraki didn’t stop trusting others. He didn’t throw Twice out. His choice back then was to take responsibility and trust Twice even more to fix the mistake he made. Which will likely be his response again. 

Shigaraki also fights against anyone who tries to control or oppress him the same way his father did once. When AFO tries to physically control his own body, he frees himself of the vestiges.

Shigaraki won’t lose his trust in other people, and won’t lose his close relationship with the league, because Shigaraki has already sustained this kind of loss before. Over and over again. He loses most of the Nomus, he loses Magne, he loses AFO. Yet, at those times when he loses these things Shigaraki’s response is always the same. 

Shigaraki is struggling to be better that the environment that created him. Shigaraki’s arc is not one of him losing his humanity, but rather Shigaraki keeping his humanity in the face of constant losses. 

His environment is really truly something that should have robbed him of his humanity. There are people like AFO who are out there to make him into a puppet, to rob him of all agency, and identity. Yet, Shigaraki always fights back against those trying to control him and tell him no.

Shigaraki won’t turn on the league, because his connections with the league are what make him human. It’s his connections with others he makes over and over again in the face of his extremely oppressive environment, first with Kurogiri, then with the league that allows him to stay the same at the core of who he is. 

While Shigaraki is constantly dehumanized by both the hero system and the villains he fights against, he’s actually one of the most human characters in the whole series. Not only is he very sympathetic and understandable where exactly he is coming from, but he’s also always, always, always, always, struggling against a set of very human flaws. 

[dc41896]

POV

So I’ve been wanting to write something based on the song pov by Ariana Grande and then a certain someone decided to attack my heart strings yet again playing the piano so this is an idea I thought of lol. Also this is a sequel to Between the Lines.

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: None, all fluff! (Well maybe a teensy amount of sad times because of the lyrics)

“There she is,” Chris smiles entering the small make shift studio holding two steaming mugs. Joining your bundled form on the grey loveseat, he hands one to you before sweetly kissing your cheek and moving your legs to stretch across his lap. “So how’s my two-time Grammy nominated superstar doing?”

That’s pretty much all he called you now, besides his usual baby and honey, ever since the list of nominations were announced a couple months ago. Every time the words left his mouth, you found yourself giddily smiling and feeling as if you were in a dream you were bound to wake up from any moment.

Like other artists, winning a Grammy was always one of your ultimate goals and now that there was a possibility you could take home not one but two, you felt immense pride and excitement that your hard work was paying off. This excitement soon turned into stress though with the added preparations you needed to complete as the big day quickly approached. Since you were also performing, you and your team had been busy thinking of what the perfect song choice would be as well as concepts that would match.

So far everything was perfect until your pianist had an unfortunate accident requiring him to have surgery on his wrist. Now you were even more stressed wondering if there were any other people you knew that could fill in.

“A little overwhelmed honestly,” you sigh placing your phone down before noticing what exactly was in your mug. “How did you know I was craving cocoa?”

“Well knowing how stressed you’ve been lately, I figured you’d want some since that’s when you crave it most.”

“Aww thank you baby,” you smile leaning over to wipe his mini chocolate mustache before kissing his lips.

“Still looking for a piano player?”

“Yea but with it coming up so soon, we might just have to do the backup song which isn’t entirely a bad thing, but then I’d have to think of a totally new concept, outfit, then we have to rehearse, I’d have to tell the producers at the show we changed it-,”

“Hey let’s take a break from that okay?,” he speaks trying to calm your rambling and very apparent nerves. Taking your hand, he pulls you closer to sit on his lap guiding your head to fall on his shoulder. “I know things aren’t going how you want, but everything will work out. You’re gonna have an amazing performance that people are gonna talk about for the rest of the year, and no matter what, me, your family, friends, and fans will be so proud of you.” Bringing your hand to his lips, he peppers kisses along your knuckles and fingertips making you smile as you snuggle closer to his neck.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, you know I’m always here.”

Soothingly rubbing circles in your back the way you loved for him to do, you nearly let the vibrations from his humming lull you to sleep before an idea makes you sit up, staring at him now confused.

“Honey? You okay?”

“Yea...yea I just thought of something. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You play piano for me! I mean you know the song you’ve heard it plenty of times, heck you even helped with the melody. Then that way nothing has to get changed!,” you excitedly answer holding onto his shoulders.

“Yea all of that is true, and I’d love to help but are you sure? Y/N that’s your night, I don’t want anybody trying to say I’m somehow tied into your success when that’s not true.”

“Chris, you and I both know people are gonna talk no matter what, and as long as I’m with you sadly someone’s gonna think that and try to spread it everywhere. But I don’t care what anyone says, and you shouldn’t either,” you smile moving your hands to rest on his partially bearded cheeks. “Like you said it’s my night and sharing it with the man I love will make it even more special. Especially if he’ll be right beside me the whole time.”

“Whether I was physically on that stage with you or not, you know I’m always beside you.”

Closing the gap between you, his lips capture yours in a quick yet passionate exchange before he rests his forehead against yours.

“Now if you win, does that mean my name goes on it too? I mean as you said I helped with the melody and I am providing my services,” he states as you both laugh holding onto each other.

“I don’t know about the name inscription, but we can work that out later,” you answer.

———

“Alright five minutes guys!,” Gina announces fluffing your curls one last time. Noticing your infamous lip bite as your knee rapidly bounces, Chris places both hands on your knee quickly kissing your cheek before being swatted away by your best friend giving you a much needed laugh. “Hey relax, no smudging the makeup until after they say cut.”

“Two minutes!,” a voice yells as you try your best to breathe.

“You got this alright? You’re gonna do great!” Giving you a quick hug, she disappears behind the cameras and soon you hear the cheery presenter in your ear as she begins introducing your performance.

“Alright now I’m not trying to be biased, but this next performer is one of my favorites! She’s been killing it this year with the release of her highly anticipated debut album which led to her two Grammy noms tonight. Performing from her personal studio, here’s Y/N.”

The piano softly plays in the background as the camera focuses on you perched on a wooden bar stool. Pulling the sleeves of your pullover sweater over your hands, you take a quick deep breath as your cue to start approaches.

It's like you got superpowers

Turn my minutes into hours

You got more than 20/20, babe

Made of glass, the way you see through me

You know me better than I do

Can't seem to keep nothing from you

How you touch my soul from the outside

Permeate my ego and my pride

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me

The way that you trust me

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Glancing over at Chris in his backwards cap, grey tank, and sweats a small smile forms on your lips watching his fingers delicately press against each key. He could feel your eyes as he looked up with a smile himself winking at you and making you innocently giggle.

I'm gеtting used to receiving

Still gеtting good at not leaving

I'ma love you even though I'm scared

Learnin' to be grateful for myself

You love my lips 'cause they say the

Things we've always been afraid of

I can feel it startin' to subside

Learnin' to believe in what is mine

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me

The way that you trust me

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Standing from your seat, you slowly make your way beside him on the bench resting your head on his shoulder while the camera pans around to catch your cute exchange.

I couldn't believe it or see it for myself

Know I be impatient

But now I'm out here, fallin', fallin'

Frozen, slowly thawing, got me right

I won't keep you waitin', waitin'

All my baggage fadin' safely

And if my eyes deceive me

Won't let them stray too far away

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me, ooh

The way that you trust me, baby

'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

As he plays his last few notes, your arms gently wrap around his bicep and your chin rests on his shoulder before you peck the corner of his mouth. His lips twitch into that adorable smile you love so much after mouthing “I love you” and all those around cheer with claps and whistles.

“You did amazing honey,” he whispers cupping your cheek with his warm hand.

“Thank you, and you too Mozart.”

“Nope, we’re not making that a thing. We both know I literally could never,” he replies making you both laugh before being startled by Gina’s squeals.

“Girl you won best new artist!”

“Wait what?”

“You won! They just told me so you can go ahead and make your acceptance speech! They’ll play it when the category comes up.”

You have to be nudged by a chuckling Chris being in such a state of shock. Oh course you hoped and wished you’d win, but you didn’t expect it to actually happen. Returning to your barstool, you try to collect yourself as the signal is given that the camera was rolling.

“Wow, um hi everybody! I honestly didn’t think this would happen,” you nervously laugh. “Um first off thank you mom and dad for your support even though I was probably really annoying singing all over the house all hours of the day. Thank you to the fans, of course, for your support as well from streaming to buying my music and all the other ways you guys have been so amazing to me. I may not be able to respond to every single post, tweet, or DM but I see you guys and from the bottom of my heart I truly thank every single one of you. My friends and my team, I love y’all so much and appreciate all that you guys do to help and keep me sane.”

“And to the one who inspired the song that helped me get this award,” you sigh peering past the camera to see a glossy eyed Chris leaning against the wall. “Thank you for being exactly what I need when I need it, whether it’s a cuddle buddy, a partner in crime for late night food runs, or a friend to remind me to love myself when I’m doing the opposite. I love you and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Rotating the silver band on your ring finger, you hold up your hand with a shy smile to reveal a sparkling princess cut diamond making everyone around beam with excitement, and surely those who would be watching at home.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[missperfectlyfine13]

In the garden would you trust me?

Summary: So, it's been a while since I've posted any writing, but the other day inspiration finally struck. I've always thought about how it would be fun to write a story inspired by the folklore love triangle and I finally came up with (hopefully) a good way to do it!

This story will be 3 parts - one part from Betty's perspective, one from August's, and one from James'.

But here's the twist - I am writing James as a girl. I know that Taylor has said that James is a teenage boy, but I'm taking a little creative liberty here. Hopefully it's well received!

So here goes nothing - part one is below!

*********

(Betty's POV)

The sound of metal clinking rings through the soft, late summer breeze. Betty squints, trying to determine what she’s actually looking at in her biology book. The bright sunlight against the glossy finish of the paper makes it nearly impossible to make out much of anything. As she strains to see the blurry image of cell, a swift wind sweeps through, whipping Betty’s papers into the air. She audibly grunts, studying outside seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she’s not sure.

Before she can think of standing up from the picnic table, a slender hand slides her papers back onto her book. Betty glances up, meeting the bluest pair of eyes she’s ever seen. The taller girl sits down opposite her, and Betty takes a moment to study her. Her wind-swept blonde hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, and her eyes glimmer almost magically back at Betty. She’s wearing an orange t-shirt with the number 8 printed in the upper right corner, the words Tigersprinted across her chest. She’s definitely a soft ball player, but shouldn’t she be over on the field across the way, with all her teammates?

“You’ve got to watch the wind when you study outside,” the girl finally speaks, a small smirk on her face, “I’m James by the way.”

“James? Isn’t that a boy’s name?” Betty replies before she can stop herself, but she quickly realizes it was a little rude, and she blushes shyly, “Also, why aren’t you on the field?”

“Well, you’re full of questions,” James chuckles, and her laugh may be the sweetest sound Betty has ever heard, “My parents wanted a boy, but they got me. So, my name is James. As far as your second question, we’re taking a break. I was walking over to the bathroom when I saw your papers take flight.”

“Sorry,” Betty says, still blushing, she can’t believe she let herself say that to a complete stranger.

“Don’t be sorry,” James replies sweetly, a hand still lying on top of her biology worksheets.

“Thank you for saving my homework,” the blonde’s hand on her work reminds her to thank the other girl.

“No problem…” James falters for a moment and lightly laughs once again, “I don’t think I got your name?”

“Betty.”

James gives her a toothy grin in return, “Betty. I like that. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“My family just moved here, I’m new to the school,” Betty explains, glad they are finally on to a new topic and her rude remarks seem to be forgotten.

“Ah gotcha,” James nods knowingly, “how do you like it so far?”

“It’s alright, everyone seems pretty friendly,” Betty looks down at her book, fidgeting with the dog-eared corners, “my classes seem ok, it’s just hard to transfer schools your junior year, you know?”

“I totally get it,” James replies, after intently listening to every word Betty spoke, “well, I know it’s hard to make friends at this stage in the game, so consider me one,” the other girl’s hand lifts off the stack of worksheets and across the table into Betty’s space.

Betty can’t help the broad smile that spreads across her face as she grasps onto James’s hand, “Thanks.”

“James!” a deep male voice strikes the calm afternoon air.

“Oh, that’s me,” James stands up and Betty quickly realizes how tall the girl is, “I’ve got to get back over there, but I’ll see you around?”

Betty nods, “Definitely!”

“Oh wait! Once more thing,” James blindly reaches for a pen off the table and grabs Betty’s hand back into hers.

Betty can’t stop her cheeks from turning a rosy pink at the feeling of ten numbers being etched onto her skin.

“That’s my phone number,” James drops her hand and the pen, before turning around to head back to the softball diamond, “you better text or call!”

“I will,” Betty replies shyly as James sprints back over to her team.

******

“Betty, Betty, BETTY!”

Betty is finally jolted back to reality. She quickly glances up from her desk, her math teacher standing over her with a worried look on her face. Betty quickly takes stock of what has just happened. The classroom is empty, there are tears staining her cheeks and the desk below her and not a single answer is written out on the test paper in front of her. This day just keeps getting better.

“I’m sorry,” she quietly mutters, grabbing the blank sheet to place it in her teacher’s hand, accepting her failure this time.

“Betty,” Ms. Davidson’s voice sounds soft and concerned, and she places the blank sheet back in front of Betty, “what’s wrong?”

The brunette shakes her head, not willing to commiserate with anyone, especially not a teacher, “Nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing, considering you just cried your way through the first test of the year and didn’t fill out a single answer,” she still looks overly concerned.

Betty sighs, “I just got some bad news this morning and it kind of threw me a little. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I know you’re a smart girl,” Ms. Davidson replies kindly, kneeling down in front of Betty’s desk, meeting her still teary eyes, “and I don’t want you to start off the year with a 0 in my class. How about you come back during your study hall and try taking this test again?”

Betty nods enthusiastically, “Thank you Ms. Davidson. That would be great.”

Ms. Davidson stands back up and gives her a small pat on the shoulder, “Whatever that boy did, isn’t worth all these tears.”

Betty nods with a small frown…more like whatever she did, “I know.”

“I’ll see you during study hall,” she says before Betty grabs her books and heads out the door.

Betty walks briskly down the hall towards her locker, weaving in and out, around the other students. She doesn’t want to risk running into James right now, it’s not something she can handle. Not after what Inez told her this morning.

A fresh wave of tears form behind her eyes, just thinking of the terrible encounter. The bubbly, blonde gossip had been standing by her locker before she even got there. Before Betty could even put in her combination, Inez was talking a mile a minute. She didn’t gather the whole situation with how quickly the other girl was talking. She did pick up the most important part though. Apparently, James was seen out with some other girl, from a neighboring school’s softball team. They were at the local diner, sharing a sundae and according to Inez, they looked “pretty cozy”.

Betty wants so badly to not believe it, but it adds up. James has been so distant for most of the summer. They’ve only been in school for a month and Betty just chalked it up to senior year stress. It’s James’s last softball season and she knows how badly she wants to do good. Very quickly though, texts became less frequent, excuses were made when Betty asked to hang out. That’s why she’s sure it has to be true, even though Inez’s sources aren’t always that reliable.

“Betty!” the last person she wants to hear calling her name pulls her out of her thoughts.

Before James has a chance to reach her, she’s on the move, heading towards the bathroom nearest to her locker. She can sense the tall blonde behind her, but pushes past the door of the bathroom before James can catch up. Betty flies into the stall at the far end of the room, putting the toilet seat lid down and sitting. She’s tries her best to keep her tears at bay, but soon enough she sees a worn pair of converse on the floor in front of her stall.

“Go away James,” Betty says curtly, clutching her books tightly to her chest, putting all her focus on making her voice sound steady.

“Betty…please,” James’s voice sounds desperate – almost sad, a tone she’s not used to hearing from the blonde, “let me explain.”

“I think Inez did enough explaining already,” Betty can’t stop her voice from shaking this time and she knows James heard.

She hears James sigh, and her head thud lightly against the door of the stall, “Please…Betty, baby…”

“DON’T call me that,” she’s surprised by how firm her voice was that time, but something about the pet name sets her insides aflame.

A loud clatter rings through the small space and Betty sees James’s skateboard hit the floor, followed by James herself. She sits cross legged in front of the stall, Betty can only see her legs, clad in ripped blue jeans.

“I’m not leaving until you let me talk to you,” James says stubbornly, but Betty can hear the way her voice is shaking now too.

“Well then it looks like we’re both going to be here for a while, I hope you’re ok with skipping 2nd period,” Betty spits back out just as stubbornly.

“I wish I could see your face, but I guess I’ll just say my piece through the door,” James sighs once again.

Betty doesn’t want to hear what she has to say, but on the same hand, she supposes it has to happen and she’s not sure she can bear to look James in the eyes when it does. Her response is silence and James takes that as her go ahead.

“I didn’t want you to find out like that,” James says almost timidly after about 30 more seconds of silence.

The soft admittance digs the knife in so deep Betty feels like she can’t breathe for a moment, a whole new batch of hot, angry tears already pouring down her cheeks, “So it’s true.”

She can hear James sniffle and she knows that she’s crying too, “I’m so sorry Betty.”

“Why?” Betty can’t hold her emotions at bay any longer and a choked sob follows the one-word question.

“It just happened, I don’t even know,” James is floundering but not coming up with any valid reasons, “but believe me, I feel terrible. I feel so guilty, it’s been eating me alive.”

“Then why did you keep doing it?” Betty replies almost venomously, you wouldn’t know she was crying by the tone of her voice.

James’s quiet sniffles have turned into full blown sobs and Betty can barely understand her lame excuse of a response, “I don’t know.”

“Who is she?” Betty asks coldly, she has to know.

“Her name is August,” James manages to choke out, “I met her in softball this summer. She doesn’t go here.”

Betty suddenly feels so angry she can barely keep her body from shaking. She pulls at the delicate chain around her neck, a necklace James got her shortly after they started dating. Betty yanks at the little gold heart until the chains breaks free from her neck, and she tosses it under the door at the other girl.

“Obviously, you realize we’re no longer going to homecoming together this weekend right?” Betty asks dryly, her hands still shaking, she’s surprised she hasn’t dropped the books in her lap.

Betty can see James delicately grab the broken chain and pendant off the floor, followed by another small sob, “Can’t we just try and work this out?”

“How could you possibly think we can work this out, when you can’t even give me a good reason?” her voice sounds tired and sad, so very sad, exactly how she feels on the inside, Betty’s not sure she can make it through the rest of this day.

James doesn’t respond, just quietly weeps on the other side of the door. Betty has had enough, she needs to leave this bathroom – now. She stands up and smooths out the wrinkles in her yellow sundress, trying to salvage what little dignity she has left. She swings the door open and James looks momentarily surprised.

“Move,” Betty doesn’t even make eye contact, but the tall blonde listens to her and scoots to the side, so Betty can walk past and out the door.

Betty doesn’t even look back once, because if she did, she would never leave this room.

******

It’s nothing short of a miracle that Betty even makes it through the rest of the day. It was a constant battle of holding back her tears and trying to avoid her ex-girlfriend, all while trying to function. She’s sure she still bombed that math test, even with the extra chance to put answers on the paper.

When she gets home, she bypasses going inside. She knows she won’t be able to avoid her mother’s questioning gaze. That alone will make her start bawling and she can’t bear to tell the story one more time today. Instead, she heads past the gate leading to the backyard and straight to her garden. The one spot in this entire world where she feels truly at peace. She hopes it can bring her that same sense of relief today.

As soon as she flops her bag down in the grass, she weaves her way through the flower bushes and tomato plants, all the way to the back fence by her sunflowers. She all but throws herself at the earth, pulling her legs tight against her chest. A fresh batch of tears starts to trickle from her eyes. Betty truly didn’t think she had any more tears to cry but being in this garden isn’t having the healing effect she thought it would. It was foolish to think that she would be calm here. This garden holds too many memories of James, and Betty instantly regrets ever brining the taller girl here. She’s tainted the one place she’s sought solitude since her family moved to this stupid town. When they moved, Betty had been distraught, leaving all her friends behind. Her mom and dad had both asked if there was anything that could make the move better. Betty had almost instantly said a big garden.

Betty loves the outdoors, she has ever since she was a kid. Her grandma had instilled a love for plants and flowers in her, from the moment she could walk. She remembers sticking her stubby little fingers in the dirt, placing delicate seeds with the aid of her grandma. Then helping to tend those sprouts until they produced leaves, flowers, and fruit. There’s something so gratifying about bringing new life into existence, with just a little water, sunshine, and love.

Now, what was once her happy place, is full of sour memories. Betty looks at a row of blueberry bushes and scoffs, remembering how excited James had been to see the blue fruit the first time Betty brought her here. That very same day, they shared their first kiss, next to the blueberry bushes. The sound of early evening crickets and the feeling of soft grass beneath her toes failed in comparison to the feeling of James’s soft lips against hers. Her heart had soared and felt almost as full as being in this garden makes her feel.

Not anymore though.

Betty wonders if she’ll ever be able to look at this garden the same way ever again. She slowly stands from her spot in the grass and heads inside. Thankfully, her parents are no where to be seen and her little brother is still at soccer practice, so Betty is able to make it to her room without being seen.

The moment she enters her room, her heart sinks. The first thing her eyes land on, is James’s ill-fitting cardigan hanging from her bed post. Her heart feels heavy as she remembers the day James had bestowed the beloved sweater upon her. They were taking a walk in the park, after getting ice cream. It was late September, so the days had been hot, but the evenings were starting to become chilly. Betty had shivered as they walked, instantly regretting leaving her denim jacket at home. James has always been observant. At the first sign of her coldness, James had slipped off her baggy cardigan and slipped it over Betty’s shoulders. Betty felt warmer immediately and it wasn’t just because of the soft fabric hanging on her.

Betty stomps over to the bed and all but rips the cardigan from the post, tossing it to the ground. She kicks it under the bed before flopping stomach first onto the mattress.

She was foolish to let James in. Now it’ll take a lifetime to recover from the kind, beautiful soul that she thought James was. She thought that the blonde, softball player was going to be the one. Betty saw herself growing old with the other girl; buying a house, planting a new garden and raising a few kids. She’s only 17, almost 18. It seems foolish now that she was planning so far into the future with someone she has known for only a year, before her life has even truly begun.

An outsider might look at the situation and say she will move on. She’s so young. When you are as young as Betty, most adults assume that you don’t know a thing about true love. But Betty knows how she truly feels, Betty knows that she was – still is in love with James. And she hates it.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Hi! As someone who’s literary opinion I really trust, I was surprised that you’re a twilight fan? I know almost nothing except commen knowledge things about that series, and I always assumed it was actually bad/un-feminist. What is it that you like so much that others seem to miss? I’m just genuinely curious about your take on the hate it always seems to get vs. it’s actual quality. I’m not gonna judge bc animorphs is also one of those books where you see it and assume it’s bad.

In over 14 years of loving this series, I’m not sure anyone has ever asked me why I enjoy it instead of simply trying to convince me that I’m wrong to do so.  So thank you for that.

First and foremost, I love the Twilight saga because of the vivid detail in Stephenie Meyer’s writing style.  The descriptions are so lush and dense with sensory information that you can practically bite down on them as you read.  Bella and Jacob aren’t just sitting on the beach; they’re sitting on a gnarled log of driftwood, worn smooth at the top from where so many Quileute teens have sat upon it during bonfires but still uneven enough to rock on its branches when Bella suddenly stands to rage at her own mortality.  Meyer describes that log in Twilight, so tangibly and with such economy of detail, that we recognize it immediately when Bella and Jacob return to that spot in Eclipse.  I’ve always disliked the movies, because I’ve always felt that the best part of Meyer’s writing simply did not translate well to the screen.

Secondly, I love the feminism.

Okay, let’s take a quick pause to let everyone gasp and clutch their pearls over me calling Twilight a feminist work.  I will address the criticisms later.  For now, please just hear me out.

Twilight strikes me as a premier example of what Hélène Cixous means when she calls for “women’s writing,” or writing for women, about women, by women, with a strong focus on the concerns and strengths and desires of womanhood.  This is a series about building and maintaining close relationships, both romantic and platonic.  It celebrates beauty, and love, and care.  Bella moves to Forks because she recognizes that her dad is lonely while her mom is quite the opposite, torn between family priorities.  She doesn’t simply subsume her interests to those of other people, but instead actively chooses how and when and where to express her love for her birth family and her found families.  Most of the other major decisions throughout the story — Alice “adopting” Bella, Carlisle moving the family to Alaska, Jacob becoming werewolf beta, the Cullens going up against the Volturi, etc. — are motivated by care and devotion for one’s family and friends.  Even the selfish or morally ambiguous character choices are shown to be motivated by love.  Rosalie tells Edward that Bella died because she genuinely thinks it’ll help him move on.  Victoria creates an army that nearly destroys Forks because she’s avenging James.  Alice abandons Bella and the others before the final battle because if she can’t save her entire family, then she’ll settle for saving her lover before letting him die in vain.

Not only is there a striking concern with love and care, but there’s also a strong commitment to avoiding violence.  Bella’s eventual vamp-superpower proves to be preventing violence and protecting others, an awesome character decision that I’d argue gets set up as early as the first book.  She lives in a violent world — this is a YA SF story, after all — but she has the power to suppress violence and create peace, both in herself and others.  I was already sick of “power = ability to inflict damage” in YA stories well before I knew the word “patriarchy.”  Twilight was one of the first books to convey to me that power could be refusing to do harm in spite of hunger or anger, that power could be shielding ones’ family, that power could be about building enough friendships and alliances to have an army at one’s back when facing an enemy too strong to take on alone.

Closely connected to all of that love and care, I love how much Twilight is about navigating teenage girlhood.  Is it empowering, intersectional, or all-inclusive?  Hell no.  Does it still dare to suggest that a completely ordinary teenage girl could have valid concerns about the world?  Yep.  The main conflict of the story, as Stephen King so derisively explained, is about the romantic entanglements of a teenage girl, and the book therefore has no literary merit.  (To quote my dad’s response: “Bold words from the guy who inflicted Firestarter on the world.”)

There is, indeed, a lot of romance in Twilight.  There are a lot of clothes.  Alice and Rosalie especially spend a lot of time on makeup, and hair, and choosing the prettiest cars and houses.  Twilight embraces all the stereotypically “girly” concerns of adolescence, and makes no effort to apologize for or condemn them.  Bella isn’t particularly good at performing them — she likes but doesn’t excel at shopping, fiercely defends her ugly car as ugly, hobbles through prom on crutches — but she can still enjoy the feeling of being pretty in a sparkly dress while dancing with her sparkly boyfriend.  And Twilight, like Animorphs with Cassie, takes the daring step of treating that feeling as valid.

Speaking of sparkles, I love the commitment to the fantasy concept in Twilight, including the myriad mundanities that Meyer brings with that commitment.  If you have super-speed, why not use it to play extreme baseball?  If you’re a mindreader with a clairvoyant sister, why wouldn’t you two play mental chess games?  I couldn’t tell you, after seven seasons of Buffy or eight of Vampire Diaries, what Spike or Damien or Angel or Stefan does all day when not brooding or lurking in the bushes to creep on human women.  I can tell you what the Cullens get up to.  Emmett and Rosalie work on their cars, usually by holding them overhead one-handed.  Carlisle and Alice read plays, and sometimes talk the whole family into home Shakespeare productions.  Edward and Carlisle debate theology, Emmett and Jasper have dumb athletic competitions, Edward and Esme play music, Alice manipulates stock markets, the twins go shopping online, etcetera.  The Cullens feel real, feel like the vampires next door, in a way that Louis and Lestat simply do not.

To get to the elephant in the room — I just described Twilight as a feminist text! — let’s talk about the other thing the Cullens do for fun: they have sex.  Weird sex.  Kinky furniture-breaking sex.  Sex that Emmett (who would know) compares to bear-wrestling.  These books suck with regards to queer representation, but they are sex-positive.  They feature an old-school Anglican protagonist offering his daughter-in-law a medical abortion.  They treat Edward’s desire for sex only within marriage and Alice’s desire for sex outside of marriage as both being valid.  Like I said, not groundbreaking, even by the standards of 2005, but still more than most teen novels do even today.

There’s a passage from Breaking Dawn that people love to pull out of context as “everything wrong with Twilight in two paragraphs” because it describes Bella waking up the morning after sex with bruises on her arms.  That moment is shocking out of context, to be sure — but in context, it’s the end result of an in-depth consent negotiation that lasts four books.  Bella says that she’d like to become a vampire.  Edward says okay, but only if she spends a few more years living as a human and considering that choice.  Bella says okay, but only if Edward, not Carlisle, becomes the one to turn her.  Edward says they can use his venom, but that Carlisle, who’s an MD, really needs to supervise the process.  Bella doesn’t love the idea of Edward’s stepdad cockblocking what’s supposed to be an intimate moment, and so agrees only on the grounds that she gets to have sex with Edward as a human first.  Edward’s hella Catholic, so he requests that they get married first.  Bella’s super horny, so she demands that the wedding happen within six months.  Edward says that he might hurt her during sex, and Bella says that she wants a little hurt during sex.  They marry.  They bang.  During the banging, Edward makes every effort to be controlled and courteous and gentile, while Bella goes wild and crazy.  The next morning, she has bruises and he does not.  Edward apologizes, but Bella’s actually really into it.  She spends a while admiring her sexy vamp-marked self in the mirror, touches the bruises many times, and reminds us yet again that Bella Swan’s whole M.O. is being a monsterfucker.  Her kink is not my kink, and that’s okay.

To be clear, I think there are other aspects of the romance that get criticized for good reason.  Edward does not negotiate with Bella before sneaking into her room to watch her sleep, and he does make unacceptable use of their power differences when he thinks she’s in danger of being mauled by werewolves.  The text condemns Jacob’s “don’t wanna die a virgin” ploy to manipulate a kiss out of Bella, but not the wider conceit of all the male characters as possessing uncontrollable urges.  Bella’s struggles to adjust to a new town feel very feminine and realistic; her amused tolerance of Jacob’s and Mike’s sexual harassment as the price for their friendship does not.  Werewolf imprinting might be mostly platonic, but that doesn’t make it okay for Meyer to depict it as a form of soulmate bonding that happens with child characters. Those are good points, all around.  I just wish that most of them didn’t come up in the context of post-hoc rationalizations for loathing the femininity of a feminine text.

I’m not calling Twilight an unproblematic series.  I’m saying that it gets (rightly!) criticized for appropriating Quileute culture, while Buffy’s total absence of main characters of color and blatant anti-Romani racism are (wrongly!) not remarked upon. I'm saying that I’ve been told I’m a misogynist for liking Twilight but not for liking James Bond.  I’m saying that there’s a reason people tend to go “oh, that makes so much sense!” when I let them in on the fact that reactive hatred for “Twitards” started and spread on 4Chan, later home of Gamergate and incel culture.  I’m saying that Twilight depicts problematic relationship dynamics as sexy — but then so do Vampire Academy, Blue Bloods, Supernatural, Vladimir Tod, and Vampire Diaries.  All of which take the time to stop and thumb their noses at Twilight, smug in the superiority of having vampires that fly rather than vampires that sparkle, and for thoroughly condemning teenage girls for being girly while continuing to show men inflicting violence on them.

After all, as Erin May Kelly puts it: “we live in a world taught to hate everything to do with little girls.  We hate the books they read and the bands they like.  Is there anything the world makes fun of more than One Direction and Twilight?”  No one has ever called me a misogynist for liking the MCU, in spite of less than a third of its movies even managing to clear the low-low bar of the Bechdel test.  Because people are still allowed to like Harry Potter in spite of its racism, or Lord of the Rings despite its imperialism.  Because hatred for Twilight was never about its very real sexism, or the genuinely silly sparkle-vampires, until it had to justify itself as something other than hate for everything that teenage girls have ever dared openly love.

I enjoy the novels, and I enjoy the fan fiction that tries to fix some of the problems with the novels.  I appreciate the extent to which Meyer has elevated fan culture, and made an effort to acknowledge her own past mistakes.  I would love to be able to talk about my love for the series as a flawed but beautiful work of literature, but for now I’ll settle for asking that the world just let me enjoy it in peace.

[silverlightqueen]

Cursed

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

wizard!Seungmin x human!reader - crack comedy, y/n’s a bit of a spoilt brat and Seungmin is not down for it lol

Word Count: 3k+

Summary - Seungmin is the best wizard in town. Poisoned by a pixie? Battered by a troll? Bitten by a were? Whatever the magical injury, Seungmin can fix it in the bat of an eyelid. So when y/n is cursed by a witch and needs his help, she expects to leave his lair curseless only a few minutes later. But her plan… doesn’t quite go to plan.

Warnings: y/n is a total judgemental bitch lmao and Seungmin wants to teach her a lesson, brief mention of blood and vomit, I think that’s it but please let me know if I missed else!

a/n: and here is the seventh instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and thank you @silverlightprincess​ for being the best (she didn’t proofread this either but she’s about to read it after I post it and check for mistakes which I will go back and edit lmao). please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the next parts too x

taglist: @kodzu-ken​ @cloudsgathering​ @silverlightprincess

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‘Hi, how can I help?’ the receptionist says, looking up from her computer to give me a friendly smile. ‘Hi, I’ve got an appointment with Dr Kim at 1.30,’ I say, and she blinks at me in surprise before looking at her computer, clicking away. ‘Ah, y/n y/l/n, is it? You booked yesterday?’ ‘Yes, that’s me.’ ‘You’re lucky to get an appointment with Dr Kim so late. And during his lunch break, too! Do you know him?’ she asks, and I hesitate before replying, ‘I used to. We… went to school together.’ ‘Oh, that’s nice! Well, take a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here,’ she says cheerily, and I give her a weak smile before turning to take a seat.

The District 9 Doctors’ Surgery is unlike any Doctors’ Surgery I’ve ever seen before; the reception is relatively normal, with its cold lighting, linoleum flooring and hard backed chairs, but the patients are quite… abnormal. A man is sat two seats away from me, his body covered in hair and long sharp claws protruding from his fingers – I hear him telling the fairy beside him, whose wings are wilted and colourless, that he hasn’t been able to fully turn into his wolf form or his human form for weeks. Opposite them, a vampire sits with a bucket in his lap, vomiting blood into it every few moments, and the centaur stood beside his seat with his tail wrapped in a bloody bandage rubs his back soothingly. I think I’m the only human in here.

Normally, I’d have driven out to the Doctors’ Surgery in the next district – everyone knows that The District 9 Doctors’ Surgery caters specifically to magical injuries – but I somehow don’t think my problem can be solved by a human doctor. When I phoned the surgery yesterday, I asked for the next possible appointment. I was told by the receptionist that that wouldn’t be until mid-November, which never would’ve worked. So I did what I swore I wouldn’t do, and asked the receptionist to ask Dr Kim if he had any availability for y/n y/l/n. The receptionist sounded sceptical, but he put me on hold anyway, and came back to tell me that Dr Kim said he could just about fit me in.

‘Miss y/l/n? Dr Kim is ready to see you in Room 13,’ the receptionist calls out, and I rise from my chair, passing the vomiting vampire with a wince. I head down the clinical corridor, white bar lights flickering overhead, and when I reach Room 13, I take a deep breath and raise my hand to the door. I knock once, twice, and then wait to be told to come in. I hear nothing. I roll my eyes, knocking again a few moments later, and then I hear him call out, ‘Come in!’

I turn the handle, tentatively opening the door and slipping into the room. Whilst the reception may have looked like any old Doctors’ Surgery, Room 13 certainly does not. The walls are black and purple, flickering yellow lamps casting an eerie glow and providing the brightness that the room needs due to having no windows. The floor is an ugly brown and red patterned carpet, the kind you find in a decades old manor house, and wooden shelves and chests of drawers are dotted around the room, covered with various suspicious looking bottles and jars. Old tapestries hang on the walls, and mismatched armchairs and beanbags sit around the rickety table in the middle of the room – I suppose it’s more of a kitchen island type thing than a table – which has a crystal ball, magic wands and various mystical objects sitting atop it. The only things in the room that don’t look otherworldly or ancient are the laptop on the table, and the man stood in front of it, typing away.

He doesn’t look up when I walk in, so I just shut the door behind me, throwing myself down onto the comfiest looking armchair, practically sinking into it. I busy myself with filing my freshly done nails – I love my nail lady, but she can somehow never get them all even – whilst I wait for him to be done. ‘I just cleaned the room and you’re getting nail filings everywhere,’ he says after a few minutes, and I roll my eyes at him. ‘Are you sure you cleaned it? It looks a state,’ I say dryly, and he lets out a little laugh as I pull a flask out of my bag. I get up from my seat and hand him the flask, ignoring his raised eyebrow. ‘Wait, is this-’ ‘Iced americano. The way you like it,’ I say, and he grins, taking it from me with badly hidden excitement. ‘Look at you. Sweetening me up,’ he observes amusedly, and I roll my eyes again. ‘I was making it for myself but now I feel a little sick, so you can have it,’ I lie, and he just gives me a suspicious side-eye before sipping from the flask and letting out a blissful sigh.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asks after a few seconds, and I sigh, dragging one of the higher chairs over to the table and sitting on it, not wanting to be a few feet shorter than him in the armchair. ‘I need your help with something,’ I say, and he looks surprised. ‘Wait, you’re actually here to be treated?’ ‘Um… yes. Why else would I be here?’ I ask confusedly, and he hesitates. ‘Thought you might be here to… see me,’ he says quietly, and I feel a little awkward. ‘I… Seungmin, you have to understand w-’ ‘I understand, y/n, I completely understand, and I don’t blame you. It’s just that I’ve… missed you. And I don’t mean I’ve missed our relationship. I’ve missed you in my life. You don’t even show up to family events anymore, and my mum keeps asking why she hasn’t seen you. I don’t have the heart to tell her what happened,’ he murmurs, my heart twisting with guilt. I’m not quite sure what to say, desperately wracking my brains, but there isn’t anything to say, so we’re both silent.

Seungmin and I grew up living in houses opposite each other. Our parents were best friends, so we were best friends. We remained that way through nursery, all of school, and into our adult lives too. I was quite proud of having a wizard best friend who could solve nearly any problem I ever had. He made sure I never failed any tests, hurt myself, got into trouble, and he fixed anything I ever broke, found everything I ever lost, made sure nothing bad ever happened to me. And then we did the worst thing we could’ve done, and we fell in love with each other. Two years later, I had aged two years, and Seungmin had not – wizards are immortal, and so he stopped aging from the age of 18. 22-year-old me was dating 18-year-old Seungmin. It doesn’t seem like much of an issue, but I started thinking about the future. What about when I turned 30, and Seungmin still hadn’t aged a day into adulthood? When we’d had a child together, and he looked more like the kid’s sibling than the father?

‘Anyway… what’s wrong? Why’d you need my help?’ he asks, and I sigh deeply. ‘Basically… I was at the club with Chaeryeong the other night, and we were in the toilets, and I was putting on lipgloss. This girl next to me asked if she could use it, and I was like, ‘um, no’, because who shares lipgloss with a stranger in a club, and she got angry and started saying, ‘you think you’re so gorgeous, and you think you’re better than me,’ and basically went off on one, so I may have retaliated slightly, and turns out she was a witch, so she put a curse on me,’ I explain all in one breath, and Seungmin raises a sceptical eyebrow. ‘You wanna tell me what really happened?’ he asks, and I blink once, twice, before sighing.

‘She asked to borrow my lipgloss and I was kinda drunk and I may have been a bit of a bitch and told her she needed more than just lipgloss to fix her face,’ I admit ashamedly, and Seungmin’s mouth falls open. ‘y/n!’ ‘What? It’s not like I lied! Her makeup was terrible! It was the completely wrong colour for her skin, she hadn’t blended it, her eyelashes weren’t the right shape for her eyes and she hadn’t glued them on properly so they were hanging off, her eyeshadow clashed with her lipstick, it was all terrible! I wasn’t about to let her put my expensive ass lipgloss on top of that god-awful lipstick. So I tried to give her some girl-to-girl advice, but I was drunk so it came out the wrong way!’ I say defensively, Seungmin shaking his head at me in disbelief.

‘Did you tell her all those things? ‘…I may have, yes.’ ‘You’re such a bitch, y/n. Maybe she did her makeup like that on purpose. Maybe no one’s ever taught her how to do makeup. You didn’t need to come for her like that. God,’ he says, voice laced with shock and disappointment, and I feel like a little kid being told off by their teacher. ‘I apologised when she started crying b-’ ‘You made her cry?’ he demands, voice going up a few octaves, and I pout. ‘I didn’t mean to! I apologised, but she was already angry, so she cursed me,’ I say in a small voice, Seungmin’s unimpressed gaze making me feel quite ashamed. Not that I didn’t already! He’s just making me feel worse.

‘What was the curse she put on you?’ he asks, and I let out an angry noise just at the thought of it. ‘That I’ll age to look quadruple how old I actually am,’ I spit, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘I’ve never heard that before. She probably just said it to scare you.’ ‘That’s what I thought. Until this happened,’ I say, turning my head away and lifting up my hair to reveal the base of my neck. I hear him suck in a breath, knowing he’s seeing the lock of hair at the back of my head, the one that’s now a powdery grey colour, wiry and ratty amongst the perfectly healthy hair that I put so much effort into looking after.

‘My body’s getting achy and I’ve got all these pains everywhere that I didn’t have a couple days ago. So I think the curse is real, Seungmin,’ I say seriously, and he nods, looking thoughtful. ‘So you want me to lift the curse off you?’ he asks, and I nod, giving him my best wide innocent eyes. ‘Can you do it?’ I ask, and he’s silent for a moment before replying, ‘I can. But I won’t.’ My heart drops, my mouth falling open slightly, and I blink at him a few times before I say, ‘what do you mean, you won’t?’ ‘I won’t lift the curse off you. You were rude and bitchy to that girl and not once have you shown me that you feel guilty about it. Instead, you’re sat here defending yourself and complaining about her like a little brat, so I think this should teach you a lesson,’ he says simply, and I stare at him in shock.

‘You’re joking, right? I demand, anger flaring through me at the way his eyes sparkle with mirth. ‘No, I’m being serious, actually. You judged that girl based on how she looked – I’m sure if she was conventionally pretty, with flawless makeup, you’d have lent her your lipgloss without a second thought, and probably becomes best friends with her too. That girl might have been the nicest person you’d ever come across. But you wouldn’t know, because you were mean to her. Now, the shoe will be on the other foot. You’ve coasted through life getting what you want because you’re pretty, and now that you’ll look all wrinkly and saggy, we’ll see how you like being on the receiving end of people’s judgement,’ he says cheerfully, my mouth falling open more and more as he speaks.

‘Seungmin, I’m sorry for being a bitch. I really am, and I do regret it. But surely that slightly bitchy behaviour doesn’t warrant this. Me looking like an ancient pensioner! I’ve learnt my lesson. Please don’t do this,’ I say desperately, starting to actually worry that he might not lift the curse. ‘Hmm, I don’t know if you have learnt your lesson, y/n. It’s not like I can take your word for it, because if I didn’t know you any better, you’d have gotten away with telling me a twisted version of what really happened. You’re a compulsive liar. So, I apologise, but I won’t be lifting the curse,’ he says seriously, but his lips are quirked up at the corners, making me realise he’s actually amused by this situation.

‘Seungmin, this isn’t a joke! You cannot let this happen to me!’ I shriek, panic making my hands shake, and he raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Shouting won’t make me change my mind,’ he says dryly, the two of us staring at each other, very different emotions in our gazes, and he sighs a few moments later. ‘How about this? When you show a true act of selflessness and generosity without any kind of judgement, the curse will break,’ he says, taking my hands into his as he speaks, and when I register his words, I snatch them away angrily. ‘No! I don’t want any stupid conditions or things I have to do! Just take the fucking curse off me, Min!’ I scream, fury making my voice waver, and he just laughs.

‘You took your hands away too late – it’s done now. This will teach you your lesson,’ he grins, and I want to literally throw myself across the table and teach him a lesson instead. ‘Seungie, please,’ I pout, stooping lower than I ever thought I would, and he hesitates for a moment before shaking his head, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘No, y/n. It’s done. Try not to judge someone based on their appearance for once, and you’ll be rewarded for it,’ he says mildly, and I just stare at him in disbelief for a few moments. ‘Are you doing this because I dumped you?’ I ask, unable to believe he simply wants to teach me a lesson, and he bursts out into laughter. ‘Flattering yourself a little there, aren’t you? No, y/n, that’s not why. Stop trying to find reasons to play this down. There are no other factors for this punishment other than your nasty behaviour.’ ‘Punishment? What are you, my dad? You don’t get to punish me!’ ‘I know you better than your dad does, better than anyone else does, and I know you’re better than this. I’m trying to help you.’ ‘You’ve got a funny way of showing it!’ I exclaim, silence falling between us.

‘If that’s all, y/n-’ ‘If that’s all? If that’s all?’ ‘Yes. If that’s all, you can leave. I only have ten minutes left of my lunch break, and then I’ve got another appointment. So you can go,’ he says with a small grin, effectively dismissing me like a parent sends a child to their room, and I let out an angry huff. ‘I can’t believe this. Some shitty doctor you are,’ I say childishly, bitter about this lesson he’s trying to teach me, and he just rolls his eyes amusedly. ‘My thousands of satisfied patients say otherwise. But that’s okay – you can’t please everyone. Especially not judgemental little brats,’ he grins, and I let out a shrill noise of rage, pushing myself up off the seat and grabbing my bag from the armchair.

‘And I’ll take this!’ I exclaim pettily, snatching the half-empty flask from the table, and he just laughs at me, making me feel even more murderous than I already do. ‘You’ll thank me eventually, y/n,’ he says gently, and I let out another angry huff. ‘I doubt it,’ I hiss, stomping towards the door and, just as I think I can’t be any more immature, I kick the shelves nearest me, watching as it wobbles and falls over to the side before stopping mid-air. ‘Really? How childish of you,’ Seungmin says amusedly, one hand outstretched in the direction of the shelves, his magic holding them up, and I let out an angry scream, sounding a lot like Regina George when she was putting herself in the Burn Book to get back at Cady. Is this really what I’ve become? How embarrassing,

‘I’ll see you at Jackson’s for Halloween,’ he calls out behind me as I reach the door. ‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ I hiss venomously, ‘my brittle bones may have already given way by then. God knows if I’ll even be able to walk, thanks to you!’ ‘No, y/n, you only have yourself to blame for this,’ he says, as he shakes his head with a sad smile. ‘Oh, cut out all the philosophical teaching-moment shit,’ I spit, wrenching open the door. As I do so, one of my nails flies off my finger. Not just the fake nail my technician put on this morning. The entire nail.

I hold back a gag, hearing Seungmin stifling laughter behind me, and I look away from it, feeling quite sick. My eyes meet Seungmin’s, and he must take pity on me when he sees how they’re full of angry and helpless tears, and he waves a hand in my direction. When I look down at my hand again, the nail is back in place, good as new. I look back at him in surprise, and he looks a little embarrassed. ‘No more of your nails will fall out. But I’m not fixing anything else for you. Now go, before your stupid pretty face convinces me to lift the curse,’ he says, and I feel a little hope spark in my chest. ‘Seungie, p-’ ‘Nuh-uh. Get outta here. Now.’ ‘But S-‘ ‘y/n, I will call security!’

[simplyswooningk]

Fanfiction Teaser!!! Chapter 1 of “The One”

The One

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Ron and Hermione:

Premise: Eight years after the war, two years after a dramatic and mysterious breakup, Ron and Hermione are thrown togethere when he returns home to prepare for his wedding. Confronted with her own feelings, Hermione dares to ask herself the question, “If One Thing Would’ve Been Different, Would Everything Be Different Today?

                          “I’m doing good, I'm on some new shit.”

The invitation burned in her hand in almost the same way the Geminio-cursed gold in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault did. After it had it read itself, she reread it nearly six times before it had registered in her mind.

To own the truth, Hermione Granger was not used to such a brain fog. But that thin piece of paper seemed to stop her mind in its track. It was now hovering over her desk, almost taunting her.

Her eyes glanced over it again, although by now, she knew it by heart:

Mr. & Mrs. Roger and Catherine Forell along with Mr. Arthur and Mrs. Molly Weasley joyfully invite you to the wedding of their children

                                Alison Katherine Daphne Forell

                                                       &

                                          Ronald Billius Weasley  

                                              25 June 2006  

                                                  2:00 p.m.

                                           Longbottom Castle

                                       Swillington, West Yorkshire  

                               RSVP by owl no later than March 6th.

He was getting married in England.  Why was he not getting married in America with his perfect little American fiancée? No, he had to come back home and do the blessed deed. 

She completely dismissed the notions of his entire family living in England and the row his irrepressible mother would surely throw at the thought of her youngest and most famous son getting married across the pond that deemed his choice of locale all too natural as absolute rubbish.

It was almost as if he wanted to make sure she would not have an excuse to be absent.

Who was she kidding? He probably hadn’t given her a thought in years.

She wasn’t sure she could blame him. But that was all in the past. Their history was all water under the bridge or over the dam or however the expression went. 

It was in the past.

 For a while, she saw the whole thing in her head: the two of them for ever and ever and ever. For a while, so did he. Or so she thought. Or so he thought. They had both believed they were on the same page until they realized that they were not. They absolutely were not.  

They were friends now. Or so they said. Friends spoke to each other. They didn’t, except when they were forced, by some unmissable personal event of some invaluable mutual friend, to be in the same room together. But they were friends.  

There were no hard feelings. They were friends. Or so they said. And she was happy for him. Everything was fine.

She would go. Molly would tan her hide if she didn’t. And they were friends. Friends went to friends’ weddings. Friends were happy for their friends. And she was happy for him.  

Unable to look at it anymore, she snatched the invitation out of the air and placed it into her drawer. Their engagement wasn’t a complete and total surprise. Harry had mentioned months ago that Ron’s relationship had gotten serious.

Good Godric, was there anything worse than having a mutual best friend with your ex? Hermione had endured torture and, in that moment, she honestly would’ve preferred it.

It was hard to believe that eight years had passed since the war. It was hard to believe than it had been six since the Breakup Heard Round the World.  

Oh, no one knew the whole story. Not even Harry. But when two best friends, who had longed harbored secret, yet obvious affection for each other finally got together, the general assumption is that together they would stay.  

Needless to say, when word of their breakup reached their evergreen group of friends, they were shocked.  

But no one was more shocked than the two parties involved. She could never forget how shocked and shaken she felt as she packed. She kept waiting for something to stop her, to wake her up and shake her out of that nightmare.

But nothing did, she’d finished packing.

In all honesty, she should be happy for him. That was what she’d told him the night he had told her he was leaving England: that she was happy for him, although nothing could have been further from the truth.

By then, there was too much said and unsaid for her to protest. An apology had seemed ridiculous on both sides. Now, she wondered if she could’ve stopped him. She wondered if some part of him had wanted her to.

Paris was her home now, or at it least it was where she rested her head.  She was now the Junior English Ambassador to the French Ministry of Magic. It was a position Kinglsey had recommended her for personally.  

Her time there had been lovely, but it was rumored that she was up for a promotion back home. It was the general scuttlebutt that she’d single been singled out to replace the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic for the Regulation of Magical Creatures before the year was out. Kingsley was apparently eager for her to be back in England, working for the greater good.

That had been her life for the past six years: work. She was very proud of all she’d accomplished. While working in France, she’d still managed to be a very loud advocate for magical creatures and the Muggleborn community.

She’d given many speeches, toured all around the world into various magical communities to talk about the treatment of creatures as well as how to better integrate Muggleborns into magical society and help to eliminate the prejudice that reared its ugly head far too many times for her taste.

It had been good, her time in France. She was well on her way to accomplishing everything she’d ever dreamed. Almost.

A knock on her door pulled her from thoughts. “Ms. Granger?” her assistant Elodie Aubin poked her head the through the door. “’Arry Potter for you ma’am.”

Hermione smiled. “Send him in.”

Moments later, in walked Harry Potter with his untamable black hair, glowing green eyes and friendly smile. If they hadn’t been through so much hell together, she honestly believed she could’ve hexed him on the spot.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy to see him. She just didn’t want to have the conversation he was there for. And they both knew it.

“Hello Harry,” she said with a smile and a sigh. “Shall I ring for tea?”

Harry removed his Auror cloak, plopped down in the chair opposite hers and shook his head. “Just had a cuppa, thanks. And how are you, Hermione?”

“Lovely, thanks. Is that why you’re here? To inquire of my health and happiness? We both grew up with Muggles. We have phones for that.”  

Harry laughed dryly. “You know, from your tone, I could infer that you’re not happy to see me.”

Hermione smiled. “I’m always happy to see you, Mr. Potter. But I have a feeling this isn’t your regular meeting of salutations.”

Harry laughed again but then his eyes turned serious. “Get your invite, did you?” 

“Is that why you came all the way here? To discuss Ronald’s nuptials?”

“I wanted to check on you.”

She shrugged. “I’m fine. And yes, I got the invitation. Though I must admit, I didn’t expect one.”  

“He’s not one for grudges, Hermione.”

Hermione’s eyebrows nearly leapt off her forehead.

“Anymore,” Harry quickly clarified. “He’s not one for grudges anymore. Besides everyone would love to see you.”  

“I’m sure. But I don’t think—,”

“Hermione, Molly will murder you if you don’t come. And then she’ll murder me for not convincing you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Can’t I just make my excuses? Busy with work, blah, blah, blah, the usual?”

“It’s his wedding, Hermione.”

“And I’m his ex. Doesn’t that give me a pass? Must I suffer through this? It was awkward enough at your wedding.”  

“Yes, I remember,” Harry said with a grimace and shake of his head. “But we got through it.”

“Yes, with lots of Firewhiskey and mead.”  

“Well, whatever works.”

“Harry, I just don’t know if it’s a good idea for either of us. It's been a long time, we’ve both moved on. I just don’t think one’s wedding needs a... blast from the past, if you will.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Hermione, stop trying to weasel your way out. No pun intended. Besides, I've one more invitation or rather summons to bring you.”

Hermione started at that. “What?”

“Well, the thing is Ron is on his way to the Burrow as we speak. Molly is having a welcome home dinner in his honor. She told me not to leave without you.”

“What in Merlin’s name is he doing here so soon? The wedding’s not for two months!”

“Apparently there’s a lot to plan, so he’ll be here until the wedding.”

Hemione rolled her eyes. “What could he possibly have to do that Ms. Enchanted Cauldrons USA could not see to herself? And doesn’t he as the Deputy Head of the American Aurors, not to mention President of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes America have better things to do?”  

Hermione noticed that Harry hesitated. “I’m sure he had loads to do. Dinner. At the Burrow. Tonight. You realize you don’t have much choice? Besides, he’s coming by himself. Allie won’t be here till a week before the wedding.”

Hermione’s eyebrows raised at that. There was something Harry wasn’t telling her. There was no one that dressed and carried themselves the way Alison Forell did would leave the majority of the wedding planning up to Ron. But that was conversation for another time.

“What’s Molly up to, anyway? Because if this another reconciliation scheme, I swear Harry—,”

“No, no,” he cut in. “She’s quite over that. She likes Allie. As much as she likes Audrey, I’d say.”  

“Do you like her?”  

Harry shrugged noncommittally. “Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

“Yes. But she was Alison then.”  

Harry rolled his eyes. “She’s nice, Hermione. Anyway, as you said, you’ve both moved on. How's Taron?”  

“He’s good. He's in Sweden at the moment.” Hermione’s boyfriend of nearly nine months was Taron Fruelle. He worked as an undersecretary to the French Minister of Magic. “He’ll be there for the next few weeks.”  

Taron was Muggleborn and highly academic just like her. Their connection had been instant. He had a good sense of humor, was highly proficient in magic and his love of reading almost surpassed her.  

It was the easiest, most comfortable relationship she’d ever been in. They rarely disagreed, they spent most of their free time at rare bookstores or deciphering Ancient Runes. Taron was in Sweden, helping with the renovations of the French Magical Embassy.

Hermione realized after Harry mentioned him that she forgotten to phone him on her lunch break.

“So, is it true Kinglsey will be calling you back to England soon?” Harry said attempting a change of subject after Hermione went quiet for a few moments. “Now that you’ve gathered your diplomatic experience?”

“He hasn’t said either way. I mean, I'd love to be back home. Everyone seems to think so, but he’s been very vague. Typical politician.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a bit and Hermione could tell he was thinking of something, something he was more than likely not going to tell her.

“Are you just going to camp out here until I'm done working and then transport me to the Burrow?”

Harry nodded. “Molly’s orders, my lady. Nothing I can do.”  

Hermione sighed. “Well, who am I to argue with Molly Weasley? Does he know I'm coming?”

Harry nodded. “Ginny’s gonna tell him.”  

Hermione sighed. “Can we stop at the shops and get a bottle of wine before we go?”

Harry smiled. “And a bottle of rum too. Hermione, really, you’re okay with this, aren’t you?” His bright green eyes searched hers.

She smiled, although suddenly she was mentally transported back to Grimmauld Place, crying hysterically, Harry’s arms clasped around her and telling her it would be all right.  

“Harry, I’m fine. It’s all right now. He's moved on, so have I. We’re friends now. We were always friends.”

Harry smiled and she knew that he did not quite believe her. She also knew he would not quite say so.  

“Listen, I’m going go into the city, pick up some French pastry for Ginny. I’ll be back to collect you in a bit?”  

Hermione nodded. “I’ll be off at 5:30.”  

Harry smiled again, that same knowing sympathetic smile he had when he walked in. He wished her a brief adieu before he was off.

He didn’t believe she was fine. He thought she was torn up inside, that deep down, she was still in love with Ron. But she wasn’t. It was over. They had moved on.

Five thirty rolled around and true to his word, Harry arrived to collect her.  

“Should we Floo?” He asked nodding to the fireplace. “I’ve got the wine and rum.”  

Hermione nodded. She took his arm. “It’ll be great to see everyone,” she said with a smile.

“The Burrow,” Harry said scooping up a handful of Floo Powder.

A flash of green and a healthy covering of soot later, Hermione and Harry found themselves in all too familiar parlor. But in a betrayal of familiarity, it was quiet.  

“Gin?” Harry called as they dusted themselves off.  

“Are we early?” Hermione asked looking around.

Harry shook his head. “No, they should’ve all been here by now.”  

The words were barely out of his mouth when a large, incoherent cacophony of voices reached their ears. That sound could only be one thing: a group of Weasleys returning from a Quidditch match.

“Oi! Ginny, next time maybe catch the Snitch,” called George Weasley.  

“Shut your trap, George. Angelina blindsided me and you know it!”

“I did not! You were too busy trying to show off one of those Harpy tricks!”  

Hermione laughed. There was truly no place like the Burrow.

“Hurry and wash up all of you!” came Molly’s nurturing, but demanding voice as the door was thrown open “Ginny, I'll need your help with the treacle tart.”

“Coming Mom,” replied Ginny with a good-natured sigh. “Oh, blimey! Ron, I forgot to tell you—”

“Tell me what?” called a voice that Hermione would know anywhere. And it sounded closer than all the others.  

Familiar footsteps froze her in place. She turned wide-eyed and horrified to Harry who looked equally dazed.  

Ginny was too slow. Before another word could be spoken, Ron Weasley had entered into the parlor. His blue eyes, those ocean blue eyes that she could never stop herself from loving widened instantly. Time was at a standstill.  

Hermione came to two startling realizations simultaneously. One, he had no idea she was coming to dinner. And two, she was still hopeless, helplessly, irretrievably in love with him.