#please look away and pretend you don’t see me talking at the wall animatedly and excitedly bc i dont know where else to express my thoughts

[sapphicflower-ao3]

this is taof bkdk in my head

[buckybarnesandmarvel]

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

parings: bucky x reader

warnings: angst, idiots in love, slow burn, fluff, implied smut, cursing

summary: your bestfriend asks you a favour of a lifetime. shouldn’t be too hard, right?

a/n: this is kinda clichéd but i really like the concept. also, this is for @venomsilk​ ‘s valentine bingo. :)

my bingo card: rich kids, fake dating, bed sharing

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

“You want me to what?”

“You heard me. I want you to, y’know, pretend to be my girlfriend for a while. Please Y/N/N. Pleeaasee?”

You sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of your nose before finally muttering an answer.

“You owe me. Big time.”

......

And that was how you had ended up here, at the Barnes’ mansion. You were used to the large size of the house, having lived in one almost your whole life. Not to mention, you had almost spent every waking hour with Bucky here, since you had become friends all those years ago.

You pulled up into the driveway adorned with more cars than what would have been deemed normal. The driveway consisted mostly of gravel, except for two perfect flower beds on each side. You parked the car and got out, Bucky right behind you. He opened the boot and carefully took out the insanely heavy suitcases, while making it look easy. You rolled your eyes at his smug smile, before the two of you made your way to the large door.

“You okay?” Bucky slung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to him and you took a shaky breath and nodded.

You weren’t sure where the nerves came from; you had met Bucky’s parents countless times.

But, this time was different.

Because, this time, you were his girlfriend.

Bucky gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, lingering slightly longer than normal, before reaching forwards and pressing the doorbell.

......

“Y/N!”

The door was flung open and Winnie immediately embraced you in a large hug. You laughed before hugging her back. She stepped back and repeated the same thing with Bucky as his cheeks turned pink. You laughed at Bucky’s embarrassed face as Winnie ushered the two of you inside, talking animatedly.

“C’mon then, you two, George and Rebecca are waiting in the living room, but, oh, honey, this is absolutely wonderful. Simply fantastic. I always knew that the two of you would end up together, somehow! Even your parents knew it! Everybody knew it when they saw the two of you together. Knew it would happen at some point. I can’t tell you how happy I am, how happy we all are.”

As Winnie talked, you couldn’t help the guilt that spread through you. She led you to Bucky’s dad and sister as you said your ‘hellos’. They each told you how happy they were and how they were all expecting it.

Bucky sensed your growing discomfort and whisked you away, upstairs, with an excuse of ‘settling in’. As soon as the door of Bucky’s childhood bedroom closed, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and let the familiarity of the room envelop you: the dark greyish-blue walls and the huge king sized bed in the middle of the soft carpet.

You fell back onto the bed and covered your face in your hands. Bucky lay down next to you as you turned and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“I feel so guilty.” Your muffled voice broke the silence.

“I know, doll, but it wont be for long. Maybe just until Christmas.”

“That’s 6 months away Bucky!”

“Yes, doll, it is, but we don’t have to pretend at school, only occasionally when we see someone from either of our families,. Just relax, sweetheart.”

Pretend.

“Hmph.” You cuddled into Bucky more, covering up the sadness etched on your face.

The real reason you reluctantly agreed to this was because you had feelings for Bucky. You had liked him for years but your feeling grew deeper in the last few months.

You loved him.

Although, you couldn’t say anything, at the risk of spoiling your friendship. You were independent but without bucky, you don’t know what you would do. He had been there your whole life and you couldn’t imagine a life without him. You intended to enjoy this for a while, have a glimpse of domestic dating life with Bucky but you could never say anything to him. He definitely didn't have feelings towards you.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Bucky had also been harbouring feeling towards you. You were his doll, his everything and he couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t risk this friendship. You had been there his whole life and he couldn’t imagine one without you. You were way out of his league, though. There was no way you would or could like him.

But, oh how wrong the two of you were.

......

“Holy shit. I. Am. Exhausted.”

You and Bucky had just come from a late dinner, where the two of you were interrogated by the other three. It was mentally exhausting and all you wanted to do was sleep.

You collapsed onto the bed, still holding onto Bucky, who fell on top of you. Your faces were inches apart and the room suddenly became silent as you gazed into each other’s eyes. Bucky’s palms were flat against the bed, supporting him as your hands were locked around his back.

The position made Bucky imagine all the dirty things he would do to you if you were his as you lay there below him. He let his mind wander for a bit before he was rudely taken out of his trance by the growing tent forming in his jeans. He suddenly jumped up, as if burned, and ran to the connected bathroom, red in the face, hoping with all his heart you didn’t notice.

But you did.

As you watched Bucky run and lock the bathroom door, before hearing the shower turn on moments later, you felt heat crawl up your cheeks as you giggled quietly.

In order to clear your head and get it out of the gutter, you rummaged your suitcase for appropriate nightwear. You found some shorts and stole one of Bucky’s t-shirts, slipping it on as you settled under the covers.

Bucky came out a few moments later, his hair still wet from the shower and you had to control yourself from jumping him right there and then. He slipped on some jogging bottoms before sliding in the bed next to you, acting as if everything was fine, although he avoided direct eye contact with you, which almost made you giggle.

The lights were turned off and you turned onto your side. You tensed when you felt Bucky wrap his arm around your middle, spooning you, but you slowly relaxed into his touch. His vibranium arm was cool against your stomach and you felt a flutter near your core.

You settled down as sleep soon over took you.

But not for long.

......

You were woken in the middle of the night by sloppy, open-mouthed kisses being placed on your neck, trailing up to your jaw. You tensed as you held in a moan.

“I know you’re awake doll.”

You heard Bucky whisper from behind you and you turned to face him.

His large hands immediately cupped your jaw and he kissed you, fervently.

Just like that.

After the shock wore off, you relaxed into the kiss. All of a sudden it dawned upon Bucky what he had done and he abruptly pulled back.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have done that, I-”

You cut him off by placing a chaste kiss to his pink lips.

“Buck, it’s fine. To be honest, I’ve liked you for a while, too, if that was your way of saying you liked me, I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.” you finished quietly as Bucky mulled over your words.

“Fuck, doll, didn’t think you felt the same way, or ever would, all this time was wasted, shit.”

“We’re idiots, aren’t we.” You giggled at his irritated expression.

“That we are. So how ‘bout we stop wasting time and make this a reality, huh?”

“I’d like that.” You whispered before leaning in to kiss him once again.

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

this turned out a little shorter and rushed than i intended but thank you for reading! :)

[binniesthighs]

don’t you forget about me | reader x jeongin

it’s the last day that you might ever see him again, so, to hell with it, right? (image from straykidsfilm on twt!) 

please read the CWs bc this fic talks about body image!! this is something close to me as well, and I wanted to share some cute innie love!! <3 

hey you reading this! you’re gorgeous ;) 

don’t you forget about me | reader x jeongin 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x yang jeongin 

Genre:  fluff n’ smut 

Tags: high school crush au (everyone depicted in this fic is at least 18), virgin!reader, virgin!jeongin, plussize!reader (i think this is the right tag, if not plz correct me!) first time au, cuties in love, softdom!jeongin, (hehe ya know I love me a soft dom), sub!reader, unprotected sex (stay safe cuties!) semi-public sex, nipple play (f), fingering (f), cumshot, somewhat of a quickie, dirty talking, lil bit of a corruption kink, cute fluffy undertones!

CWs: brief mention of a fistfight and blood/wounds, insecurity over weight and descriptive narrative about body weight/appearance and negative self image 

Word count: 7.1k 

Word had spread that someone had gotten into a fight on the last day of school.  Supposedly, it had occurred during the second to last hour of the day, and it was a group of three to four boys. The rest of the details had been unclear, but you had heard mutterings about their names, or how each of them had walked into the principal’s office with bloodied knuckles, fat lips, and purple bruises to their cheekbones. You had heard that one of them had laughed in the face of the principal, claiming that they simply had it coming. 

“I heard that they were from class A-4. Or was it A-3?” 

Your friend leaned over with her skirt ruffling on her plastic chair. 

“Who could be so stupid?” She strung her bubble-gum around her finger with cracked nail-polish. “Are they looking to graduate, or what?” 

“I don’t know...” 

In your lap, you hands grew clammy with sweat. It was against your will, but you couldn’t but help thinking...

Yang Jeongin was in class A-4. 

Your chest tightened thinking about if it had been him that had gotten in the fight. 

It was no secret that you had harbored a crush on the boyishly handsome student from the other class of your same year. You had read or seen somewhere that the reason that they called crushes “crushes” was because they did just that--they crushed you to the full extent of the word. Whoever had said that, you had learned that they were 100% right. Having a crush on Yang Jeongin had been the most painful experience of your life. Since middle school, it had been something that you had scribbled in your diary, and the reason why you would hold your breath when he walked by with his friends, or when you’d see him on the same bus as you. 

You can’t exactly recall when it started, it just kind of did. 

There was nothing extremely notable about him: he wasn’t his class president, he wasn’t the ace of a sports team, nor did he even have friends who really were notable either. No matter how much you pondered it, you couldn’t figure out what it was about him. 

Yang Jeongin was known for having a kind smile and a jovial laugh, so you just decided that it must’ve been one of these things. This semester he had ashy-grey brown hair, and your best friend still hadn’t heard the end of it from you. Over time, you had learned that he liked banana milk with his lunch and kept a fox enamel pin on his backpack. He had worn the same beat up sneakers for all of high school and wore this same grey hoodie on most days when it would get cold. 

A couple times you had imagined what it would’ve been like if he had let you borrow it on the days when it would mist on spring mornings, or when snow would fall early in November. There had even been times when you imagined him holding your hand, walking down the hall, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to hold you close...among other things. Somehow, you liked to think that he would be the kind of person who would love you more than you could love yourself. Granted, you never could know for sure. Being optimistic made up half of your fantasies. 

“Just confess already.” 

Your best friend had said half a million times over the course of the years. 

The more you had contemplated it, the less sense that it made. A confession would’ve been a whole lot easier if he had known who you were. 

“There's no way.” You had said morosely. “As if he would say yes to me.” 

“Can’t know unless you try.” Your friend smiled, sucking at her lollipop on the walk home. “Don’t pretend like you’ve never written him a confession letter before...” Her backpack hopped up and down with her arms outstretched animatedly in that alley decorated with vines. “...Where do you keep them? In your desk? Under your bed? In your sock drawer?” 

“Oh shut up!!” You nudged her, sending her spiraling out with laughter. 

“If it’s the last day of school, you’ve got nothing to loose! You’ll never see him again! If he says no, no big deal!” 

The clock ticked on the wall to your classroom, the seconds hand moving silently faster and faster the more that you looked at it. Under your desk, your fingertips pricked the edges of the pink envelope. You had written your the name as nicely as you could with flowery cursive with tiny flowers. On the back, you had sealed it with a sticker: an orange fox. 

Your throat grew dry seeing only six minutes before the bell would ring, and then the metal legs of chairs would scrape on the floor, the hallway would flood with students, and you would make your way to his locker and pray that he would stop by there. In many ways, just thinking about it was enough to make your stomach do somersaults and for your hands to wet even more embarrassingly with sweat. Your knees felt limp, and you wondered if you even had it in you. 

Even worse, a deeper fear crept in the back of your mind--it was much more venomous and horrifying, but you couldn’t keep it down. You feared that he would laugh in your face, throw the letter down, and throw his head back at you and how ridiculous your moment of confidence had been. 

How could be like someone like me? 

Perhaps your biggest fear of all, even greater than the rejection, was him admitting that he could never like someone like you. 

Your skirt was tighter on you than most, at least, tighter than it was on the other girls. When you would shop at the school uniform store, you could never escape the glares from the ladies when you and your mother asked for the larger sizes that they had. Your soft cheeks were plush and squishy, and your belly striped with stretch marks that you had stopped looking at in the mirror. Because it was more comfortable, you wore leggings under you skirt, even in the warmer months, even if it made you sweat. Oversized sweaters would swim over your frame, for the very reason that you could swim in them. 

As optimistic as you could be, there had been some nights worse than the others where tears would wet your eyes before sleep, no matter how many affirmations and positive sticky notes you had pasted to the back of your bedroom door. 

How could I like someone like you? 

It would be so easy for him to say it. Words flicked off the tongue hastily are the ones that often hurt the most. You just hoped and hoped that he had been everything that you had made him to be...as unrealistic as it was. 

The bell chimed, and you felt your heart leap into your throat when the room erupted into cheers and papers and desks went flying and screeching around the floor. 

“Are you ready?” Your friend winked, and the corners of the letter pricked your fingers. 

~💌~

With some stroke of luck, he was exactly where you had wanted him to be. Even then, some small part of you had secretly had hoped that he hadn’t just so you could walk away. You would’ve walked away from him, that school, everyone who had known you and just let it be. However, fate had been much kinder to you...damned fate. 

Your heart quickened upon seeing him. He was wearing that same grey hoodie with the drawstrings that he would tie into bows sometimes, and that same enamel pin shone silver on his backpack. You realized that it even looked almost exactly like the sticker you had used. His navy uniform slacks were dusted with dirt however, and one of the knees had a bit of a tear to it. In your horror, you then saw the scrapes on his face: one right under his eye, on his left cheek, and a thin red line on his bottom lip where it had cracked open. Before you could think of anything else, seeing how much it must’ve hurt him made your heart twist.

From your backpack, you drew out the rest of the stuff that you had prepared, and tried your best not to collapse from the way that your knees trembled. 

“H-hi...” You announced, head down, and mouth deathly dry. 

Yang Jeongin whipped his head over to see you, slightly startled. Up this close you could see his adorable brown eyes that even looked at if they glistened with stars in them. 

“...Hi?” He returned, closing his locker, and wetting his lips. 

Your heartbeat rang in your ears, and you quickly presented him with the letter, the carton of banana milk with the heart sticker on top, and the tiny case of animal shaped cookies. 

With eyes glued to the floor and his beat up gym shoes, you said the words as fast as humanly possible, “I-know-that-you-don’t-know-who-I-am-but-I’ve-really-liked-you-for-such-a-long-time-now-and-seeing-as-its-the-last-day-of-school-I-wanted-to-tell-you-so-please-accept-this!!” 

You waited for what felt like hours, then he took the items from your hands with a tentative touch. “Um...thank you...for this.” 

This was it. It was happening. You had already known that it wouldn’t get much better, and the way that he looked petrified only made you feel even more heat rush to your cheeks. Even then, now that the words had escaped your lips for the whole universe to hear, it felt good in some small, relieving way.  

“Y-you don’t have to say anything back. Please don’t...don’t feel obligated to, I just...” Your voice trailed, and your eyes wandered to the exit door behind him, and the green of the summery trees. 

I should just leave. It would be better if I left. If I walk away, this is all over...

The hem of your skirt tickled your nervous fingers, and you had nearly made up your mind. You wished at least that he would say something rather than just staring. 

“I-I can just...leave, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...how could I think that...nevermind.” 

It took everything that you had, but you blinked the tears that stung the corners of your eyes and you hiked your backpack straps up a little higher. 

You motioned to the things in his hands, “I hope that you enjoy those things and...good luck at university.” 

You flashed a feeble smile for him, right back to his astonished face. Just outside of the exit, there was the rest of the world in front of you, and you also took peace in the fact that it really was a really nice day then. 

“W-wait!!” He suddenly said with a slight crack to his voice, turning after you to grab at your wrist too. As soon as he did, his eyes widened, the the gruff voices of a group of boys echoed down the hall. 

“Where is that shithead?? This isn’t over.” The tall boy from class A-4 balled up his hand into a fist, and smacked it into his palm. The tall boy and about three of his friends also had red knuckles and scratches on their faces, each to a varying level of degree. 

“Shit.” Jeongin bit his lip, and his grip on your wrist tightened. “Uh-can you come with me?? This way?? Fuck--” He nodded toward the opposite hallway, and your head spun thinking why he would want you to come with him. 

“What?? Why??” 

“Just--” He watched the boys coming frantically and hid behind his locker door. “They’ll beat the shit out of me again. Just....come on!” 

A nervous thrill sent a shiver down your spine feeling his hand and the warmth there while he guided you, pushing and parting the sea of bodies chatting and hugging each other goodbye. 

“Where are we going?” You called to him, and the little carton of banana milk swayed in his opposite hand. 

“I don’t know. Anywhere.” 

You followed him further and further, through the hallways that had emptied of students or any semblance of them. Shades had been pulled in most of the empty rooms, and the chairs had been placed on top of the tabletops of desks. Both of your shoes squeaked under the flooring when you turned corners, and the sound of his nervous panting became louder and louder. Where he held you, the sleeve of his sweater bushed up against you, and it was even softer than you had imagined. 

Jeongin pulled at several doorknobs, finding them to be locked, head turning to see if the group of boys had followed. At last, he found one that did unlock, and he threw it open on its hinges as quickly as he could. It was one of the storage closets for the theater department, and it was dustily coated on all surfaces and even moldy smelling, with not a window to be found. Jeongin flicked on the light, revealing the stacks of props and furniture that you vaguely remembered seeing in performances in the past. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you so hard.” Jeongin finally said. 

“It...it’s okay.” 

“If I got caught with them again I might as well kiss college goodbye...” He raked an anxious hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to fight with them before...” 

“Are...you okay?” You softened your tone, seeing the way that the pink marks on his face must’ve been made against the hard cement of the floor outside. 

“I-I’m fine. Thank you.” 

His eyes really did look like they glistened. 

“It...it’s really funny actually...” He shoved his hand into his pocket, fumbling with the contents with a shaking hand, then took out a crumbled piece of notebook paper that had been torn. “Take it.” He prompted with wide eyes. 

“Me??” 

“Who else?” He laughed lightly. 

The note had been written in black ink, and it smudged and bled to the other side of the paper, and the scribbled handwriting looked rushed as if it was an afterthought or some kind of crazed ramble. You unfolded it all the way, starting at the first sentence. 

dear y/n from A-2, 

you probably don’t know my name, but I’m yang jeonjin jeongin from class A-4, i wanted to write this to tell you that I think that youve you’re really  pretty, beautiful and that i’ve been kind of watching you for about a year now, i’m sorry if that’s creepy but, yeah, i just think that you’re really cool and i like it when you smile. i’m sorry that i didn’t say anythimg aything anything about this sooner, i was kind of shy about it to be honest, i didn’t want you to thank think that I was being disrespectful or anything like that, but seeing that its the last day of shcool school and I don’t have a ton to lose loose lose i thought that it was worth a shot. if this doesn’t go the way id i’d like it to, please don’t stop smilng smiling ♥

-yji 

By now, the boy from A-4 was swaying his body back and forth almost violently as he waited for you to read the letter and fiddled with his arms crossed. His teeth tugged at his lip, and he anxiously awaited for you to say something. Little did he know that reading his words you were so shocked that you were certain that you had forgotten how to breathe for a couple moments. 

“M-me? You mean this...for me?” 

“Yeah?” He advanced to take the letter back, “I’m really sorry if it’s creepy, I know that you don’t know me at all and we’ve never spoken, this must be really startling but...I wasn’t expecting for you to write me one too.” 

The adorable boy blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with a tiny growing smile. 

“S-sorry that I was so quiet earlier, I was just really surprised.” Jeongin flipped your letter over too, then gasped a little seeing the fox on the back. “Oh.” 

On the other side of the door, the loud and clambering footsteps of that group of idiotic boys clomped and they grunted among themselves asking where Jeongin had went. The two of you held your breath, and soon the voices receded. Once they passed, you threw your backpack around to scramble around the front pocket, pulling out a Band-Aid that must’ve been there for at least a year, but it still worked the same. 

“Here...do you need it?” 

“Oh! Um-no, but, thank you.” 

A silence filled the dusty room, and Jeongin awkwardly moved to sit on one of the old prop couches. He patted the spot next to him, beckoning you to do the same. 

“The timing...kinda sucks.” 

You laughed slightly, “That’s sort of my fault.” 

“--My fault too.” He quickly added. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get the chance to know you sooner. Maybe we could’ve...” Jeongin dug his fingers into the velvety upholstery. 

Slowly, your sinking insecurities started to creep like vines with thorns, and the words spilled out of your mouth before you had something to do with it. 

Maybe he’s just being nice? Are you really certain that letter was meant for you? 

“I guess that I’m just really surprised that you of all people could end up liking someone like me. Someone...that looks like me.”

The young boy cocked his head with his eyebrows confusedly crossed. “I don’t see what you mean?” 

“‘Cause I’m like...” You motioned to your thighs, a bit chubbier, your larger breasts, and your skirt riding up your legs too. “...like this?” 

“But there’s nothing wrong with you?” 

“Psh...”nothing wrong with me”...” You laughed with sarcasm at the comment. “Have you seen the other girls in the school? Some of them are frickin’ idols for crying out loud...” 

Jeongin’s eyes widened, and he scooched in a bit closer, but slowly; carefully. “What I’m trying to say is...that there’s no one else like you! And--” 

“--That’s exactly it. I’m not like everyone else...” 

Jeongin blabbered, and his hand found yours resting on your lap. “I-I’m not s-saying that’s a bad thing! I’m saying that the reason why you stood out to me was because I think...” He shied, cheeks becoming even rosier. “...Because you just seemed so happy all the time, like, you didn’t care what others did or thought of you, I could tell, even from kind of far away, that you were someone who’s real not some kind of made-up thing that you put on every morning for the rest of the world to see you as. Also...” He giggled, “I just thought that you were really cute too.”

His thumb brushed up against the back of your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile at the small feeling. 

“I mean...I do think about what people think of me, I think about it all the time...” 

“I do too.” He said quietly. “Why else did I let it get so far that I let four guys gang up on me outside school?” 

You didn’t press him for more, but merely let your opposite hand rest of top of his as you watched his expression fall. When he was in school, you had only ever seen him smile, but now seeing him like this, it was a whole other side. He looked up at you with his pleading eyes, and they were utterly gorgeous. 

“My mom...my mom doesn’t make a ton of money. She barely makes enough to send to me school here, or buy me stuff like new clothes or uniforms each year. I almost never see her because she has to work so hard for me and my brothers...those...assholes had something to say about it and I kind of...snapped. No one can say shit about my mom when they don’t know how hard that she works for us.” 

Your eyes fell to his scuffed and worn sneakers, and it all made sense. 

“Then they found the letter...I didn’t want them to ruin the last good thing that I had going for me.” 

In that moment, the whole world became silenced. You were the last good thing going for him and you had never even known. 

Then, he smiled, broken as it was, bit it was still embodied his gentle warmth that you had fallen in love with all those years ago. 

“But! It turned out okay I think.” Jeongin said with a sigh. He glanced down at your interlocking hands on your lap and chuckled a little bit. “Kinda cool that this worked out though. Maybe we could spend the summer getting to know each other?” 

This time, you let one of your happy tears drip down your cheek, and nodded gleefully. “Okay. I’d like that.” 

Jeongin smiled, just as you had seen him do it a hundred times, but this time you knew that it was all for you. 

“Can I...can I kiss you? If that’s okay? I-I’m sorry if this is really forward...I just...really want to.” He asked gently, then wiped away your tears with the pad of his thumb. 

You nodded, feeling  your whole body shake just a little with your nervousness and anticipation. The world appeared to melt away once he had leaned in to press his lips on yours as softly and as carefully as he could. In that moment, you had forgotten where you were, what time it was or the rest of the beautiful summer day outside the doors of that school. Here, it was just you and him. Embarrassing as it was, this had been your first kiss too. Your mind raced with a million thoughts, asking yourself if you had been doing it right, but once you felt him smile lightly into you, your chest shivered with a sense of relief. 

You had never expected kissing to feel like this, and it was a bit strange feeling something so close and intimate right on your own skin. At the same time, it felt like nothing else in the entire world had, and you only wanted more and more of it. He was cautious and respectful in the way that he had tilted his head, and loving how he had cupped your face with his hands cracked and bruised. You didn’t know where to put your hands at first, but settled one hand on his thigh, and the other on his shoulder where you tugged at his white button up stained with dirt. 

He too shook with a sigh, readjusting himself, then ran one of his hands down your arm to hold your hand were it rested on him. He tangled your fingers together, and made a tiny little gasp feeling you connect with him. In seconds, he allowed himself to grow rougher, running his lips over yours with a type of fervency that teased at your bottom lip where you felt the warmth of his tongue. It took no more consideration, and you gave him the permission to meet the heat of his tongue with yours between parted lips now becoming a bit swollen. 

Jeongin broke your connection for moments, and a different kind of haze took over his eyes. The way that he looked over your quivering lips sent shivers through your whole body, and he dragged his thumb over the tiny streak of saliva that shone on your lip. 

“Is it okay if I touch you? In other places?” His eyes fell, and you giggled at the way that a kind of lust-filled hunger seemed to overtake him. For years you had fantasized about him ravishing you like this, and giving love to every inch of your body no matter how hard it had been for you to do that same to yourself. Still, as hesitant as you were, you feared that he would get a taste of all of you, and still change his mind. 

“Really?” You stammered, instinctually crossing your arms around your chest. “You don’t think that I’m gro--”

“If you’re about to say “gross” don’t.” His expression became much more serious. “I-I’ll say it again a million more times if I need to: you, all that you are, is what I’ve been thinking of for so long, I’d love to touch you wherever you’ll let me.” 

This time, you didn’t know if the tears were happy or sad, but regardless, the fat drops still fell down your cheeks. 

“--And you can say no too. If you’re not comfortable, we can just keep doing what we were doing...there’s nothing wrong with that at all.” 

The dim yellow light in the room buzzed, and you had recalled all the many number of times that you had pictured the very scene about to occur. On lonely nights, you wished to have felt his hands all over you, and now, they really could be. 

“What do you say?” He asked, and squeezed your hand along with his. 

“Can we...go slow with it? I’ve never...no one has ever offered to--” 

“Of course we can.” He smiled adorably, which was a bit odd considering what he had just proposed. “But...I didn’t hear you say yes?” 

“Yes.” You quickly added with a nervous inhale, but held his gaze with your assurance. “I-I want you to.” 

The boy from the other class grinned, then took to carefully running his hands down your arms once more, and craning his neck to plant sweet little kisses into your neck: the stimulation from which made you whimper out of your own accord, and he giggled upon hearing it. 

“You like that?” He whispered greedily, then continued sucking a little harder. Jeongin shrugged down your sweater from the collar, and his wandering hands circled little rubs into your bare arms. 

Next, his fingers crept up slowly and cautiously at the bottom of your shirt, testing at first, but not pulling up the fabric all together. His cold fingertips buzzed on your skin in that drafty room, and he brought his lips back up to yours, also making tiny trailed gasps as he crept up all the way to your breasts. The moment that he touched them, both of you appeared to shiver on each other’s bodies, and your kisses grew even needier. At first he cupped over the padding of your bra, kneading and squeezing to play with the way that they jiggled slightly then pulling a bit harder, and relishing the way that they filled up his palms. 

“Does this feel good?” Jeongin asked on your lips and you nodded back immediately. 

The two of you leaned back on the aged couch, and the young man cradled your head to guide you into the cushion of the upholstery. He admired you for a few moments under him with one leg between your thighs and the other supporting himself and slipping a little on the cement floors. His thigh was just close enough to the heat of your arousal between your legs, and it ached and throbbed so badly, you were convinced you had never felt a feeling as intense as this. He leaned in closer, and pressed the muscle into your clit, and a muffled moan caught on your lip that surprised even him. 

“Can I touch you even closer?” He asked, and those ashy grey-brown strands of his dipped over his eyes. 

“Y-yes...please.” You found yourself begging, and he mischievously grinned at your desperation. 

Under the cotton of your shirt, his fingers slipped under the padding of your bra to toy with your breasts directly. He kissed even more tiny quaking breaths into your mouth, finally finding your hardened nipples and tweaking them with his thumb and index. He pulled lightly at them, making your buds even more sensitive. You cried out with a helpless “ah!” and he stopped, worry across his face as if he had hurt you. 

“F-feels really good. Don’t...don’t stop please...Jeongin...” 

Absentmindedly, your hips had started to grind against his leg, and he had taken notice of it too. Had you been a bit more attentive, you could’ve seen the way that his member had swelled in his navy slacks, and throbbed, begging for attention too. 

You could barely watch, but he hiked your shirt up, baring your cushy tummy for him to see only and you threw your embarrassed arms over your face. As long as you had kept the evil words at bay, they were much more seductive than any affirmation you could’ve repeated to yourself. 

“Oh-are you okay?” Do you want me to stop?” The young boy immediately stopped and removed his hands. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“N-no...it’s just...I’m really nervous be-because I’m--” 

He sighed, then pulled your shirt down once more. “I can stop doing that for now. But...I just want you to know...I think that everything about you is even more beautiful than you know and these...imperfections--which they’re not--is everything that drives me crazy. Please don’t think that I see you negatively at all. I promise that I want to make you feel good everywhere.” 

“Mm-okay.” You shook with a heavy sigh. “You aren’t...disappointed or anything?” 

Jeongin pressed a simple kiss onto your upper lip with a smile “Disappointed? Why?” 

“Because I don’t want--” 

“--No?? I’m not disappointed at all! You don’t owe me anything at all! Especially when you’re not comfortable with it.” 

“Hm, thank you.” 

He continued with a tiny grunt, lowering himself even closer to you, “Can I please kiss you some more?” 

You allowed him, with the warmth of your kisses' meeting in the middle. The heat in your pussy pooled even greater, and you grinded further, thirsting for him in ways that felt forbidden. For a brief moment, you felt the fear seeping back in, head racing with the dozens of thoughts that he might have if he were to see your stretch marks on your belly and on the top-parts of your thighs. The more that you found desire for him, the less that you were convinced that he wouldn’t desire you as much as you did him. 

“Do you want...I can touch down here too?” Jeongin hushed, breaking for a minute to hold your eyes earnestly. “Would that be okay?” 

He had noticed the way that you had pathetically rubbed into his leg, and this too sent your hands over your shy face. 

“M’ sorry...I can’t help...it feels good too...” 

“Don’t apologize! I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way.” Your crush smiled with his eyes smiling in the same way. “You can...probably tell.” 

“--But...what if you don’t like it?” 

He cocked his head, “Like what?” 

Your lip quivered and you found tears stinging your eyes once more. “Don’t like..m-me? What I look like?” 

“What!? Y/n...my head is like frickin’ spinning thinking about what you look under these clothes--can you please believe me?” 

“It...it’s hard to...” Fat tears came waterfalling down your cheeks, and once again the young boy fully stopped his advances. 

“The fact that I’m here with you, kissing you like this after daydreaming about it for so long...there’s nothing more that I want than to make you feel good right now. Trust me.” 

“A-are you sure?” 

“Y/n. I’m 100% sure. And you don’t--you don’t have to even take this off if you don’t want to...” He toyed with your skirt. “But these might get in the way.” He ran both of his hands up and down your thighs and leggings with flat palms, and you felt your whole body ache for more than just that. “Again, we don’t have to if you don’t want.” he gave you a reassuring smile, “We still have the whole summer--” 

“I do!! I...still do...” 

Your quick answer started the both you, but Jeongin still didn’t advance faster than what was comfortable to you. Instead, he carefully snaked his hands up and under your skirt, finding the elastic of the leggings then pulled. 

His eyes blew out, enamored, seeing your bare skin, and he wetted his lips too seeing the way that your underwear had glistened with your essence. It was against your will, but you had soaked through your panties which he had swiped over a couple times accidentally, and the action itself sent an aching quiver to your untouched bud. You watched his every move has he angled his hand to ghost over the wet fabric, making you squeak from the new sensation. After, he found the band to your panties, pulling them down too. 

“Wow.” He gasped, seeing the way that your bud twitched. 

Jeongin dipped his fingers into your wetted folds, teasing at first. 

“Woah.” He said with a little gasp. “You’re really...” 

You stifled a moan with your lip, feeling your cheeks grow even warmer as his digits slicked with your arousal. “I-I know...I’ve never like, done anything like this before.” 

The young boy’s thumb grazed over your clit, eliciting an immediate response, and your heels went digging into the cushion of the couch. 

“This is your first time?’ He asked gently, two fingers now filling up your entrance. 

The best you could, you tried to remain quiet, but the harder and deeper that he had advanced, the harder that it became. Your eyes wandered, right to the pressure he had created under his belt loops, and you wondered furiously what he would’ve felt like inside of you; if he could stretch you out, or what it would have felt to just be like that with another person. 

Jeongin admired the way that your face scrunched up with a prideful little smile, and loved every minute of the way that your mouth would form airy “oh’s.” 

“You like feeling my fingers inside of you? Fucking right into your wet pussy?” 

His gaze held a lusty glaze seeing the way that your eyes blew out upon hearing his dirty words, and it only seemed to make him throb even harder himself. 

“Y-yes...” You mewled, reaching out grabby hands to hold yourself steady on his shoulders, the other going to tug at his belt. 

“I-I wouldn’t mind if you...you know...” 

Jeongin rolled his body over yours, attaching his lips with yours once more just to let the words stick on your tongue. “You want me to fuck you?” 

“Only-only if you want to--” You could barely get the words out feeling your thighs to shake as he coaxed your nearer and nearer with his thumb rubbing circles over your enlarged button. 

“Of course I want to.” He assured you with even more kisses. “Are you sure?” 

You hooked a couple of your fingers to pull out his black leather belt from its confines, muttering a tiny “yes.” 

Jeongin carried out the rest of your job for you, going to quickly clink the metal of his belt away, tossing it to the cement floor haphazardly. From the boxers that he wore, there were a couple little wet stains, and the outline of his dick protruded thickly. Seeing it like this awakened something in you, something primal and feral that wanted nothing more to be connected to this boy and to have him spread you out until you could barely breathe. It was a horribly naughty thought, but as shameful as you felt, it was just as thrilling. 

The boy sprung free his erect member, pink and dripping with his pearly pre-cum, and pumped at it a couple times, eyes raking over your whole body in the way that you had only ever dreamed of. 

“This is actually...my first time too.” 

He had said the words coolly, almost like he didn’t care at all about them, but you had assumed he had done so to keep you from worry. 

“Oh fuck--” He muttered, taking his left hand to reach under your shirt once more and play with your breast roughly. “God, I can’t believe that this is happening.” 

You coyly hiked up your skirt a bit higher for him to get better access, but not all the way, just as far as you could feel comfortable. 

“I might’ve thought about this a couple times...” Jeongin said with a tiny smirk, then slowly dipped his hand back down to wet his fingers with your arousal, then coat it around his length. When he did so, he let out an unapologetic groan that wavered out of his mouth and filled up the room beautifully. 

“I’m gonna go slow, okay? I feel like I heard somewhere that it can kind of hurt for you the first time?” 

You nodded out quickly to let him know, finally becoming impatient enough to claw at his arms all wrapped up in that grey hoodie of his. 

He leaned down one final time, kissing you over before aligning himself with your pussy, kissing down your jaw, then to your neck where he buried his head as he lead himself into you. His arms shook where he held himself up, and the two of you shuddered at the feeling at last: that euphoric, tight, unreal feeling that you shared for the first time. 

You whimpered out, digging your nails into his back, and his breath hitched in his throat too. 

“I-its...s-so..tight.” Jeongin barely got the words out, but merely let himself throb around your velvet walls for a moment. “Y-you okay?” 

“Mmhm.” You said, barely able to get more words out than this. 

Truthfully, it did hurt just a little, but not as much as you had pictured it to be, but it was more like a pressure, and it only grew heavier as you got used to him. 

Jeongin started to thrust his hips slowly, even painfully so, but he maintained his pace dragging his hips over yours. He filled you up so fully it was unfathomable, and his length pressed up against your deepest spot, sending a kind of electricity through your whole body. 

He settled into a rhythm, finally getting comfortable enough to return back to your mouth to slick his tongue across yours, and cradle the side of your face in his hand. You let little whimpers fade into his mouth, as he did for you, and after long, he had decided to speed up just slightly to milk himself off with your tight walls. To your surprise, he reached his hand back down to your clit to rub at it erratically. His pattern made little sense, but compared to how he had been stimulating you deep inside too, you could barely hold on. 

Jeongin grunted, biting into your lip with a trace of teeth. “I-I want you to c-cum first--I can’t...I can’t--” 

Before you could even understand what he had said, the young boy snapped his hips harder, eyes closed and tiny bits of sweat forming on his brow. The pads of his fingers pushed harder, and you found yourself spinning even closer to an orgasm by his hand, the thought alone was enough to fulfil your deepest fantasies. 

“I want you to cum all over my dick for me, okay? Sh-shit...” 

“Jeong--” 

“God, you’re...fuck...” He laughed a little. “I really really like you y/n. I really...” 

It was as if the words had been stolen right from his mouth, and his voice had abandoned him, but all he could do was press harder, faster, glide his hips over you rougher...

“M’ gonna--” You gasped out with your whole core tightening into a knot that was just about ready to snap. The pressure behind your clit was intense and burning, and you became light-headed nearing the brink. 

All at once you came with a searing and inexplainable white heat--much more intense than you had ever felt before in your whole life, and every single muscle in your body quaked as you did so, and you threw your head back to that dusty cushion of the couch. Your eyes rolled back on their own accord, and the best that you could do to muffle your moans was throw your hand over your mouth--which was quickly removed by the young man to do the job himself. 

Your thighs violently shook and you felt yourself tighten around him. He too strung out explicatives as if they were the only words that he had known. You breathed out shallow gasps into his palm, and soon he tore himself out of your walls with incessant breaths, only having to jerk himself off for a few moments before his swollen tip burst with the white strings of his cum. He continued jerking himself as such until he had nothing more to give, and his own thighs shook where he had straddled you. You could feel his warmth on your thigh and the way that it dripped and slicked with the sweat of your leg. 

Jeongin’s entire face flushed with pink, and he stammered out realizing the mess that he had made all over you. 

“I-I’m so sorry...I-I didn’t realize, I wasn’t thinking...I just...” 

While it was a predicament, you mustered the best smile that you could for him, secretly and utterly loving the way that it felt on your bare skin.   

“I’ve got...I can figure something out--” 

“--Jeongin?” 

His attention snapped back to you in your afterglow, and you could practically see the boy melt right then and there. 

“--Don’t worry about it.” 

Just as he had been before, his smile creased into a shy and awkward little line, and he could barely hold your eyes. After the initial embarrassment, he couldn’t help himself but admire you.

“Hey Y/n?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t know if you’ve ever heard this before, but I really do think that you’re perfect. If not perfect for yourself, I hope that I can show you how you are to me. You’re perfect for me. You’ve always been.” 

“So have you.” You admitted to him in that cobwebbed room that held all kinds of forgotten trinkets and items. 

“And thank you for giving me your letter too.” Jeongin raised the back of your hand to his lips where he placed a chaste kiss, then helped you carefully back up as to not make a mess of your skirt with the white staining your leg. 

Your crush smiled, then let out a gleeful exhale, “I can’t wait for this summer.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ playdate ✦

this chapter pairing; yandere!wonwoo x reader, side mingyu x reader

genre&warnings; yandere!wonwoo, kinda asshole!mingyu, creampies, sloppy seconds, intoxication, exhibitionism AND voyeurism, masturbation, dirty talk, one sided pining for all!!, kidnapping, stalking.

✖ That being said, I do NOT condone yandere-like/obsessive/possessive behaviour in real life. this is a work of fiction therefore I will indulge in it. If you do NOT like this kind of content, please just ignore it.

notes; if I’m being honest, the draft for this originally was completely different and I reworked it because I wasn’t satisfied with how it was turning out bc it was too similar to sea castles except mingyu and wonwoo were brothers kjdhfdkjh 😭😭 As always, thank you sooo much for the love and interest in Monster Mash! I know last chapter was.... erm, a lot. LMAO 😆 Have a great rest of your day/night and I’ll see yall tomorrow~! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~3800

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - x - x - x - x - x - x

you call me on the telephone, you feel so far away;

you tell me to come over, there’s some games you wanna play

i’m walking to your house, nobody’s home;

just me and you and you and me alone.

The relationship you share with Mingyu isn’t necessarily one that you like to talk about, much less acknowledge on most days.

“O-oh, fuck, M---Mingyu!”

It’s purely physical and a little destructive, in your opinion. Especially when you found yourself frustratingly liking him more than you ever imagined.

He bends your leg, ankle resting against his shoulder as he angles his thrusts to graze against your sweet spot. Shapes dance behind your eyelids, lips parting in a silent moan when you feel yourself already close to cumming.

But it’s Mingyu that cums first, hips stuttering as he growls, “That’s right, fuckin’ take all of it, baby.”

He rides out his high, pulling out of you and letting your leg down before you can even process what’s happening. “Hey, wait, but what about me?” You ask, voice small as you watch him get off of the bed. He tugs his pants on, plucking a shirt off of the floor as he throws it over his head.

“Sorry, I gotta go take care of some business back at campus, Mr. Lee needs the papers graded before tomorrow’s 8AM and I’m already late. You can stay here if you want though, bed’s all yours. I’ll be back in a bit, I---sorry, I’ll make it up to you later.”

He’s gone in a flash, door clicking shut behind him as you sit with your legs still parted. Typical.

Groaning, you flop onto your back against his bed sheets.

“Thanks for nothing.”

Wonwoo says it’s the last time.

But every time is the last time.

He wraps a hand around his cock, soft breaths making the window fog up in front of him as he watches you and Mingyu through the window. He times the movement of his hand to match Mingyu’s thrusts as he pretends it’s your warmth wrapped around his cock and not his own fist.

“Fuck, fuck , fuck…” He whispers in succession, feeling his abdomen tightening as he gets closer and closer to an orgasm.

Wonwoo watches as Mingyu bends your leg over his shoulder, mental images of you underneath him instead.

He remembers the first time he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bedroom, curiosity making him watch through his bedroom window as you fell to your knees in front of the other male. Wonwoo knew better than to watch, so he looked away, cheeks burning crimson before he ever so slowly turned back to the window. 

He couldn’t help it.

Wonwoo had seen you around the university campus too, hanging around the art kids in the building opposite the Sciences building where he typically stayed with his small group of friends; Mingyu included. He thought you were cute and kind, especially when you happened to hang around their group for the day. And he liked you, even if he was too shy to ever say it.

Which was precisely why he couldn’t understand your attraction to Mingyu, of all people.

Mingyu was selfish, almost irritatingly so, and Wonwoo knew.

Wonwoo knew you deserved better too, someone much like himself. Someone who would take care of you better than Mingyu ever could.

Movement in the opposite window has Wonwoo pulling himself from his thoughts, brows furrowed when he sees Mingyu leaving and you still alone in the bedroom.

“What…?” He mumbles, slightly confused when he watches you flop onto your back.

God, what he would do to eat you out right now.

He tightens his grip around his cock, this time imagining himself eating you out, tongue against your clit while you moan out his name and tangle your fingers into his hair. 

A stuttered moan falls from his lips as he cums into his palm, eyes clamped shut as the pleasure washes over him.

Wonwoo promises it’s the last time.

“Hey, did you hear about Jeonghan’s Halloween party next Saturday?”

“He’s throwing one?”

“Yeah, I heard everyone’s invited too.”

Wonwoo pretends to go through his textbook as he eavesdrops instead.

If everyone was invited, that surely meant that you’d be there too.

Mingyu glances over at you, tapping his pencil against the corner of his textbook. “Hey…” He starts, “Did you hear about Jeonghan’s party?”

You glance up from your own textbook, bored eyes on Mingyu who looks up at you from his bedroom floor. Neither of you had talked about the previous time; opting to forget about it since it wasn’t the first time either. “What about it?”

“Wanna go with me? I’ll make it up to you for last time.”

No, he wouldn’t.

“I guess.”

You step out of the Film Developing room, arms full of negatives when you accidentally run into a body that walks up from behind.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The negatives spill to the floor, scattering all around you as you and the other person kneel down to collect them.

“It’s okay.” The deep voice replies.

“Oh, hey, Wonwoo!” You smile, “What are you doing in the Arts Building?”

He blushes a deep red, kneeling and stacking the negatives before placing them back in your arms. “Oh I--I do some film editing on my own and I--um, I was just wandering around. I had some free time, so I was curious.” Wonwoo shoots you a shy smile as he pushes his glasses up on his nose bridge.

Wonwoo was very cute.

“Oh! I didn’t know that! I feel like I’ve never seen you around here…” You trail off.

“Ah, yeah, I actually have a personal studio on the east end of town. It’s small but… I don’t have to share my things, which I’d prefer.” He smiles, eyes twinkling. “It’s no fun when people mess around with your things and ruin them, y’know?”

“Oh my gosh, I knooooow. Minghao always messes up my developing station and moves my shit around.” You keep talking but Wonwoo barely acknowledges it. Instead, he takes in your appearance, admiring you as you talk animatedly about god knows what.

God, why’d it have to be Mingyu.

“Hey, so are you coming on Saturday?” He blinks confusedly at you, “Huh? Sorry, I--I didn’t quite catch that last bit.”

“Oh, Jeonghan’s party! Everyone’s invited so I was wondering if you were coming!” His blush burns darker; were you asking him out?

“I’ll be there with Mingyu but if you show up, you should save me a drink!” His excitement falters slightly at the mention of Mingyu, but he does his best to send you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, I’ve got one with your name on it.”

Wonwoo was kind, patient and understanding from what you knew.

You’d only met him a few times and you knew he lived in the building across from Mingyu’s but all of your interactions with him had only ever been pleasant.

In another universe, maybe you would’ve been in a happy relationship with someone like Wonwoo.

A sigh escapes your lips as you get ready for Jeonghan’s party; short dress barely covering your ass when Mingyu saunters into his bathroom where you currently were.

“Jeez, who’re you trying to impress.” He mumbles, sidestepping you as he checks himself in the mirror.

“I just felt like being cute, that’s all.”

Mingyu grins, hands on your waist before they slide down to your ass. He squeezes hard; a chuckle on his lips when you mewl.

“Cute isn’t the word I’d go for with this ‘lil number but okay. Let’s get going.”

Mingyu drinks more than he should and he knows it.

He takes any drink someone puts in his hands and downs it before trying to find more which usually leads to a lot of 2AM drunk phone calls and quickies in the backseat of your car.

This time, however, you’re just as bad as he is; taking any drink available as you try to drown out the way you feel when you see Mingyu chatting up someone else across Jeonghan’s living room.

To be fair, you weren’t exclusive anyway.

But his eyes dance over to you, a cocky smirk on his face when he sees the effect he has on you. He knew how you felt too, even if you never said a word about it.

Mingyu didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had, even if he benefited from it more than you did. And the two of you were friends, albeit you weren’t sure for how much longer.

He leaves the other girl as he makes his way over to you, eyes unfocused when he presses you into the wall you’d been standing in front of.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.”

“Ngh, M--Mingyu, fuck--fuck, harder!”

Mingyu keeps you bent over the sink, hips slamming into your ass as he fucks you from behind in Jeonghan’s upstairs bathroom.

The loud music drowns out your loud moans and his filthy words as you eagerly fuck yourself on his cock. “Fuck, this tiny little dress of yours doesn’t do a damn thing. Bet you wanted me to fuck you just like this, huh? Bent over a fuckin’ sink at a party.”

Neither of you had even made the effort to get undressed as you hiked your dress up and tugged your panties to the side, hands planted firmly onto the mirror in front of you as you watched yourself get drunk off of his cock.

“G-god, yes, yes! Fuck me h-harder, damn it!” You whine. Mingyu slaps your ass at this, low grunts spilling from his lips. “Your cute ‘lil cunt begging to be filled with my cock at every second of the fuckin’ day. “ He slurs.

He feels his cock throbbing as he erratically thrusts into you, only a low groan on his lips before he’s cumming.

“O-oh, shit…”

You feel his thrusts slow down as he cums inside of you, a soft mewl on your lips at the feeling. You clench around him, shaking your hips slightly to get his attention back on you.

A sharp knock scares you both as Mingyu pulls out of you; panties slipping back into place like they’d never been touched.

“Hey! People need to use the bathroom, assholes!” Someone yells from the opposite side.

“Fuck, we need to go.” Mingyu grumbles, readjusting himself and zipping his denim back up.

You very slowly lift yourself up from leaning on top of the sink, tugging your dress back down quietly.

Of course. Of, fucking, course.

Mingyu can sense the annoyance even without you saying anything, lopsided smile on his features. “Later, okay? Don’t be a brat.”

“Whatever.”

You head for the door, unlocking it before you step out first and leave Mingyu behind. Your body still buzzes with the urge to cum when you start heading down the hallway, panties sticking to you like a second skin with Mingyu’s cum pooling into the material. You turn a corner into an empty part of the upstairs hallways, sighing slightly as you lean up against a wall.

You hear your name being called as you turn your head, finding Wonwoo jogging up to you.

“Hey! I was looking for you!” He smiles, noting the way you seem to sadly smile back at him. “Something the matter?”

“Ugh, it’s Mingyu…” You start. Wonwoo tenses up, hands balling into fists at his side. “What did he do?”

“He’s so fucking selfish! I don’t know what’s up with him lately but he always leaves me hanging!”

Oh.

It’s quiet between the two of you as your words sink in and Wonwoo’s demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. He takes a step closer to you, fingertips under your chin to lift your head up as he meets your blown out pupils.

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, y’know.”

You feel a wave of arousal wash over you at his deep voice; did Wonwoo always sound like that or was it the alcohol? “W-what?”

“I said, I wouldn’t leave you hanging. I’d put you before myself, if you’d let me.” He smirks at you, eyes twinkling with promise.

“Show me then.”

Wonwoo drags you into the nearest bedroom; excitement coursing through his veins.

In another universe, he would’ve been more romantic about this.

Dinner and candles, picnics at sunset. Ah, well.

“Well, it’s not much but it’ll do.” He says, locking the door behind himself before he turns to you. He takes in your mildly disheveled appearance, walking you backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed.

“You deserve better, y’know? Someone who’ll take care of you.”

“I know… But you promised you’d show me, didn’t you?” Pouting, you hike your dress up before you sit down on the edge of the bed. You spread your legs as you let Wonwoo see your panties that were practically transparent.

“Fuck, you let him cum inside your tight ‘lil pussy and he didn’t even let you cum?”

“How do you know I’m tight if you never fucked me before.” You retort, shooting him a smirk of your own. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you felt more confident now than you’d been in a long while.

Wonwoo leans over you, easing you down until your back touches the sheets. “Only someone as pretty as you would have a tight ‘lil cunt and I’ll prove it.” He pulls away, undoing the button and zipper of his pants before he shimmies his boxer briefs down enough to pull his half hard cock out.

You lick your lips at the sight; he was slightly bigger than Mingyu. “Fuck, your cock is huge, Wonwoo…” He smirks at your compliment, tugging on your legs until your lower half hangs off of the side of the bed. He eases your wet panties down, pocketing them before he spreads your legs wide.

“I’m not typically one for sloppy seconds, but…” You blush at his comment. “...If it’s you, I don’t care.”

“Usually I wouldn’t have someone else’s cum already inside my fuckin’ pussy before I hook up with someone else...” You mumble.

Wonwoo guides his cock towards you, letting the shaft rest against your folds. He starts grinding against you, coating his cock in your wetness and Mingyu’s cum. His cock is already throbbing as he continues to tease you and himself, resisting the urge to fuck you hard and fast like he knew both of you needed. “S’okay, I’ll just have to cum inside you too and fuck it so deep into your fuckin’ cunt that you won’t even remember Mingyu ever did.” He grins.

“God, yes, make me cum too, I wanna cum with you…” Whining, you buck your hips up to meet his teasing touches.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make sure you get my cock nice ‘n wet.” He positions his cock at your entrance, teasing you one more time as you whine and squirm underneath him. “Fuck, you’re so cute when you’re whiny.”

He slowly eases his cock in, meeting no resistance with how wet you already were and the cum already inside you. “God, you really are fuckin’ tight…” Wonwoo mumbles under his breath.

It takes you a second to adjust to Wonwoo’s size before he’s drawing his hips back and thrusting back into you and a mewl cuts through the air when the head of his cock taps against your cervix; eyes fluttering shut with how well Wonwoo filled you up.

“Oh, god, ngh, Wonwoo I--I don’t know if I--I can hold o-off…” A choked cry rolls off of your lips, fingertips digging into the sheets underneath you as you cant your hips up to meet his thrusts. You’d already gotten close to an orgasm before and now that Wonwoo’s cock was snug between your walls and curving into you perfectly, it was hard to hold back.

“That’s okay, baby. You can cum as many times as you want. Use me how you want me.” He offers; voice gentle and inviting as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“P--please, ah, touch my---my clit…”

Wonwoo obliges, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingertips. “O-oh, fuck!”

Your body locks up, Wonwoo’s name spilling from your lips as he throws you over the edge and into the first mind-melting orgasm you’d had in weeks. He smiles dreamily at you, hips still snapping into you as he fucks you through your high.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you’re cumming.”

You can only whimper in response, blushing when you can hear how much wetter you’d gotten after just one orgasm. He takes his fingers off of you clit, licking the wet digits.  

Wonwoo looks down to where the two of you are connected, a soft groan on his lips when he sees how much of your wetness coats his cock. “You really did get my cock fuckin’ soaked, baby. Think you still have it in you to give me one more? I’m close too and, ah, I’d love for you to cum with me.” He shoots you a sweet smile and you feel your heart beat out of your chest.

You nod feverishly, “Mm--Mmhmm… I---I haven’t c-cum in a few weeks so… I--”

“A few weeks?”

You avert your eyes from his inquisitive stare, already knowing how he’s going to react. “Yeah, s’just Mingyu’s been so busy so… He’s been, hah, kinda’ leaving me h-hanging and---Ah!” Wonwoo thrusts into you hard, grinding against you once he was fully bottomed out.

“For weeks now? He’s been treating you like that?” It’d made sense now why he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bed alone that one time. “Y-yeah… but---but he’s just busy, y’know, ah, being a TA and a-all...”

He shakes his head in utter disbelief; selfish Mingyu, as always.

Wonwoo leans in until he’s face to face with you, kissing you on the lips gently before pulling away. He doesn’t say another word and instead works on getting you worked up to cum with him and even through the muffled music, he can hear your loud whines and whimpers and the sound of skin slapping as his thrusts become erratic.

He licks the pad of his thumb before he brings it back towards your sensitive and swollen clit. “Baby, ‘m close…” He whispers; only loud enough for you to catch.

“Ngh, fuh--fuck, Wonwoo, please cum i-inside me… I wanna feel your, ah, cock throbbing i-inside of me when you fill me up with y-your cum…” Wonwoo’s thumb presses harder against your clit and he opts to grind against you instead when he feels the tension in his abdomen start to snap. He moans your name shakily, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut as he lets the pleasure wash over him.

You lick your lips watching his face contort in bliss and you bring your fingers down and over his thumb as you press down harder onto your clit and the action is enough to throw you over the edge again, head thrown back and a sharp whine on your lips as you cum for the second time. 

Wonwoo slows down his thrusts as he starts to come down from his high and he works you through yours. “Shit, you really are so fuckin’ pretty.” 

A blush coats your skin as your orgasm starts to ebb away and Wonwoo is careful to not hurt you once he starts to pull his cock from inside of you. 

He watches the cum drip out of you, lips pursed into a tight smile. “Guess you should get these back, huh?” He fishes for the wet panties in his pocket; helping you slide them back on and up your legs before he pulls away and starts to smooth down his own disheveled appearance.

You laugh breathily, “I’ll let you have another pair next time.” 

“Oh? There’ll be a next time?” He grins. 

Biting your lip, you stand, readjusting your dress and grimacing at how gross you felt now that your panties were even wetter and covered in more cum. 

“I---I mean, I still... I still have feelings for Mingyu but--but...” You pause; Wonwoo’s eyes on you. “I know I should end things with him, it’s just gonna take some time and I--I think you’re a really great guy, Wonwoo, and I’d like for there to be a next time... It’s just... I think I need some time to get over Mingyu first.” You mumble the last few words, a little embarrassed you even admitted you liked Mingyu. 

“No, I---I get it. It’s no worries! Just---Just come find me when you’re ready.” He shoots you a beaming smile, “I’ll leave first, okay?” 

You nod in response, smiling at his back when he turns to leave. 

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” 

You end up heading home, leaving Mingyu at Jeonghan’s party all-together.

He’d find his way home eventually; maybe even puke in the backseat of a taxi and get what he deserved. 

You giggle at the thought, stepping into the lobby of your apartment building.

Huh, the lights are out. 

You’re a little confused, but you make your way towards the elevators; stumbling slightly with the alcohol still in your system. Pressing the button, you wait patiently in the dark lobby -- only the moonlight providing a soft glow. 

The elevator dings and you quickly enter it, pressing the button for your floor before resting against the banister. 

Hey, is that a person?

Your eyes catch a glimpse of a figure not too far off and only half visible from around the corner, brows furrowed. 

But you didn’t hear anyone enter the building.

The door closes and you shake the thoughts out of your head; it was probably just the alcohol making your eyes hazy.

Eventually you reach your floor, sighing in relief that the lights were still working. You stumble down the hall, dropping your house keys a few times before you can even make the turn to get to your hallway.

You reach your door, sliding the key into the keyhole and turning the lock.

God, it was so good to finally be home. 

“Good Evening, this is Boo Seungkwan reporting live on Channel 17’s 4 o’ clock news. We’re live at the scene here, as you can see behind me, at the apartment complex were Mr. Kim Mingyu resided. The police and detectives are still going through Mr. Kim’s apartment in hopes of finding any clues. His whereabouts are still unknown as well as his female companion. If you have any tips or information of where they both are, please do not hesitate to contact the police or the TV station.” Seungkwan pauses, waving down a pedestrian. “Sir? I’m a reporter for Channel 17 news, can we please have a word with you? It’s about the missing university students.”

Wonwoo sadly smiles, nodding. “Of course.”

Seungkwan gestures for the cameraman to come closer, holding the microphone in between himself and Wonwoo. “Sir, did you happen to know the missing couple?”

“Ah… Kind of. They were attending the same university as myself. He was kind of a friend of mine, and I know he lived in the building across from myself but…” Wonwoo pauses, shaking his head. “I--I don’t know what happened. They seemed like such kind people. I’ve heard rumours that they just fled to another city, but… that’s it really.”

“Did they tell you that, themselves?” Wonwoo shakes his head no. “No, just rumours flying around campus. Everyone saw them at a party last weekend, myself included. That seems to have been the last time.”

“I see, so have the police interviewed you? Do they have any suspects?”

Wonwoo shakes his head again, smiling sadly. “The police just think they ran away, which, I guess isn’t too far fetched. We’re all stressed university students, after all.”

“You mentioned he’s a friend of yours. He didn’t bother to say anything? Do you think he kidnapped her?”

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek, worry clear on his features. “I mean, Mingyu was kind of aloof and he was very drunk at that party. I’m not sure if they got into an altercation. We never really hung out outside of campus so sadly, I can’t really say I know if it’d be in his character or not.”

“Thank you sir, for your time.”

Seungkwan lets Wonwoo leave, stepping away to finish the live report.

Wonwoo nods, turning to make his way back into his apartment. 

He enters his place, toeing off his shoes before he heads towards his own bedroom.

By nature, he steps in front of his window; the same one that faced Mingyu’s now empty bedroom.

His lips ease into a small peaceful smile. 

He would have to make a trip to the east end once all the news vans and patrol cars were gone.

He was sure you’d love the food he’d be making for your candle-lit dinner. It was one of his favorite recipes.

And he was sure Mingyu wouldn’t mind watching from his place in the corner, either. 

[ickle-ronniekins]

cosmic destiny

request from nonnie!! “Hello! I love your writing, I was wondering i could request something for Fred. Maybe a soulmate AU like matching tattoos or you can see how in danger tour soulmate is with a meter or Hanahaki situation? I love your writing sooo much!”

pairing: fred x reader

word count: 4.5k OOPS

A/N: hi love! SUPER CUTE PROMPT, i adore soulmate aus. so i actually did a fred soulmate au with tattoos which you can find here so i figured i’d do something different for this prompt, hope you still enjoy :) also, wtf, i feel like my writing sucks here, soooo feedback, reblogs, comments, anything please? gah ty

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @waschbiber @dreamer821 @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 | message me to be added loves!

When Fred Weasley heard all of the girls talking animatedly and breathlessly at the welcome feast about the prospect of finding their soulmates this year, and taking turns eyeing him up and down as if they were certain he was theirs, he couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably in his seat -- his brother, George, elbowed him gently in the ribs, laughing at his twin’s skittishness.

Fred just sighed. The entire Great Hall was erupting with whispers and wandering eyes and annoying giggles. Each and every fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh year were hungrily searching for, and awaiting, their soulmate, for they would find them before the end of the school year. Or, at least, that’s what the Weasleys had told the twins.

He pretended not to care, he really did -- when his older brothers started chatting him and George up at the Burrow this past summer, and as Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione listened with amazement, Fred had sealed his lips without giving anyone a word. The others had just laughed, keen on taking advantage of this very quiet Fred.

Fred just stayed as quiet as he could. Because everyone knew how he felt.

The problem was, as much as he tried to hide his feelings about the whole prospect, Fred certainly cared. Actually, Fred seemed to care all too much.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to find his soulmate -- he wanted that more than anything. But if he was being honest, he was terrified.

Terrified of finding the woman he’d spend his life with. Terrified if it turned out to be someone he didn’t expect. Terrified, he knew, if it ended up being someone other than you.

Fred had always been a confident bloke, there was no denying that, but when Mrs. Weasley had pulled him into a bone crushing hug on Platform Nine and Three Quarters before they’d departed for school and squealed, “Oh, Freddie! Do bring her home for Christmas, yes? I’ll have to knit her a sweater!” Fred suddenly felt very pressured to bring home a nice girl. Not that he could help it, really. It wasn’t exactly up to him as to when this year his soulmate would appear, or who his soulmate would be. But he could hope. Maybe he could even will it into existence, if he tried hard enough. He swallowed his feelings and boarded the Hogwarts Express, ignoring the fact that seventh years specifically were supposedly going to find their soulmates before the holidays.

He’d always fancied you, and he always thought he made it rather obvious, actually. His flirting was top tier, his compliments heartfelt and consistent -- blimey, you two had even danced the entire night away at the Yule Ball, flushed and giddy from the Butterbeer and dazzling Christmas decorations that illuminated the Great Hall. And yet, the two of you were still not together. Not technically, anyway.

Not for lack of trying on his part, though. How many times had it been that he’d done some over-the-top prank and landed himself in another detention, just to impress you? How many times had he asked you to take a stroll in Hogsmeade? Bloody hell, to have tea at Madam Puddifoot’s? More times than he could count, embarrassingly.

It’s not that you didn’t like him. He was your best mate. What wasn’t to like? That adorable, disheveled ginger hair of his, the constellation of freckles sprinkled across his nose, the very obvious way he could always make you laugh with the nonsense he’d get himself into, the way his face would split into a bright smile at the sight of you -- there really wasn’t anything to dislike, if you were being honest. On the flipside though, there was the whole possibility of ruining the friendship thing, and also the finding your true soulmate thing. There were too many contributing factors, and you didn’t want to lose your best friend. And besides, there was no way that Fred Weasley was your soulmate.

Little did you know, he had a plan to prove that you were.

-- -

“Oi,” Fred whisper-shouted in the dorms one evening. “George, hey! Wake up, mate!”

It was nearly three a.m., and both twins had to be up in just a few short hours for their first day of lessons. A muffled groan came from the bed across from Fred’s. “Fred, I swear to Merlin if you keep talking, I’m going to go and get Ginny and you’ll be on the receiving end of one of her Bat Bogey Hexes.”

“First of all,” Fred began, illuminating the room just a smidge with the light of his wand, “I can take my little sister. Secondly, I’ve got a plan.”

George opened one eye. “A plan? You’ve woken me up in the middle of the night to tell me you’ve got a plan?”

“Yeah,” Fred started, puffing out his chest and looking rather confident indeed. He wet his lips and continued, “A plan to convince Y/N that she’s my soulmate.”

George could not help the involuntary laugh that escaped him. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, mate, but I’m not sure that’s how it works -- see there’s this little thing called cosmic destiny. I’m afraid the universe has your soulmate already picked out for you, no matter how much you continue to embarrass yourself in front of our best mate.”

A thwap! noise echoed in their room when George was hit on the side of his head with a few pillows. He reckoned he had that coming.

“I don’t care about this.. cosmic destiny you speak of, Professor Trelawney,” Fred teased. “I know she’s the one. I’ve known it since we met her. And I’m going to convince her, and then the stars will align.. or whatever,” he said in his best Sybill imitation.

“Merlin, someone’s gone all soft and romantic.” George laughed. Another pillow flew his way but he caught it in midair and placed it behind him. George yawned dramatically and fell back into the massive amount of pillows he now had on his bed. “Whatever you say, Freddie. But please, can the plan wait until morning? Perhaps once I’ve had a few cups of coffee?”

Unfortunately, Fred thought to himself, now fully awake and raring to go, it would just have too.

-- -

When he spotted you rounding the bend in the corridors, no doubt heading to your double Arithmancy lesson (you were adorable, but why on bloody earth would anyone choose to take Arithmancy in their seventh year, let alone doubles?) Fred seized his opportunity and pushed passed his brothers and the sea of students congregating near the Transfiguration classroom. Didn’t these people have somewhere they needed to be?

He ran in the complete opposite direction, hellbent on getting to your classroom before you did. Out of breath after pushing past students and professors alike, he leant himself casually against the wall in the corridor, ran a hand through his messy hair, and took a few deep breaths to slow his breathing. Three, two, one. Like clockwork, you were. You appeared suddenly in the corridor, a gentle grin on your lips that only seemed to radiate extreme giddiness when it split your face into a very large smile.

You stopped in front of him and dropped your bag onto the floor before checking your watch. “Five minutes til the bell,” you said, raising your eyebrows and locking your eyes with his. “Impressive, Weasley.”

He shrugged. “What can I say?” he asked smoothly, wiggling his eyebrows at you and pulling you into a quick embrace. “How’s my favorite girl?”

“I’ll be better once this dreadful lesson is over.”

“Ah -- regretting the double Arithmancy, are we?”

“Never, ever let me make stupid decisions again. Promise?”

Fred laughed at this. You really didn’t know what you were asking, did you? He was the King of stupid decisions. You were adorable, nonetheless. “Fine, but you owe me,”

Your eyebrows threaded together and you held back a snort. “Oh Merlin -- let’s hear it, then.”

“You, me. The Three Broomsticks. This weekend.”

Even when you rolled your eyes back into your head, Fred couldn’t help notice the hint of pink that flooded your cheeks, and the gentle tugs at the edges of your mouth. You were always horrible at holding back a grin.

“One day,” you said breathily. “It took you one day into the new year to ask me out. George owes me three galleons,” you winked.

Fred brought a hand to his chest in a very dramatic fashion, but laughed anyway. It was the same every single year -- it took him less than a week into the new term before he was flirting obnoxiously and doing his very best to get you to go on a date with him. “You and my stupid brother placed bets on how long it would take me to ask you out?”

A smirk suddenly appeared on your face. “It was his idea; I just wanted to win some money.”

You were about to slip into the classroom when Fred positioned himself in front of you, his six foot frame swallowing you whole. You brought a gentle hand to his cheek and his breath hitched at the contact. How was it you were always able to get his heart thumping dramatically? “Freddie, love, we’ve been over this.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you again. “Darling, you can’t possibly call me love and expect me to believe that you don’t want to pull me into a broom cupboard and snog me senseless.”

“I’ve so very much missed your confidence over the summer holidays.”

“Bet you’ve missed more than just my confidence.”

You both laughed a bit, and then you took a step back from him. The solemn look in his eyes was more than telling -- he wasn’t backing down without a fight, just like every other year. “Fred, we’re going to find our soulmates soon -- what is the point --”

“ -- the point is, Y/N, that you are my soulmate.”

You were a bit taken aback at this; you placed your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow at him. His self-assuredness was rather alluring, but you couldn’t just believe that. It’s not like either of you had a say in the matter, no matter what your hearts yearned for. You opened your mouth to speak, but silence hung in the air between you both. He took a step closer toward you, and you could easily smell his cologne, for he was now only centimeters away. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder and his lips to your hair, “I will wear you down, Y/N.” It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the steady pounding of your heart. He scooted himself out of your way, squeezed your shoulder, and said before disappearing down the corridor, “and I will prove to you that we are meant to be together.”

-- -

Things this year were not turning out how Fred would’ve liked. There was some strange, irritating woman dressed in all pink who seemingly wanted to take over Hogwarts, and she kept shutting him and George down each and every time they wanted to have a bit of fun and showcase their products for respective students. Lessons were nearly kicking his arse, if he was being honest, because he could hardly focus on school work. All he could focus on was that awfully insistent Ravenclaw that had his eye on you.

Worried now that he was no closer to convincing you that you two were meant to be, he was becoming desperate. Ginny and Ron enjoyed this very much, because it wasn’t very often that Fred let others see his vulnerability.

The twins were on route to Potions for a miserable, gloomy Wednesday afternoon; the only thing that even slightly brightened Fred’s spirits was the prospect of seeing you just a few tables away. “George, how many different ways d’you reckon there are there to find your person?”

“How d’you mean, mate?”

“You remember what Charlie told us over the summer holidays,” Fred piped on. He slid into his seat and lowered his voice, so as not to piss off Snape in the corner of the room, who was watching the students enter the classroom. “People find their soulmates all sorts of ways, don’t they? Pretty sure Charlie mentioned someone he knew finding his through matching tattoos, or something -- what d’you think?”

“I.. haven’t really thought much on it,” George told his twin truthfully. “Not really sure, to be honest. Mum was so bloody excited she barely gave me any idea of what to look out for. But I reckon they’re all different, right? Can’t say I’ve ever seen a tattoo anywhere on myself -- unless it’s in a secretive sort of spot.” George winked. He wanted to make Fred laugh, but it was a lost cause now, as you’d just entered the room and sat yourself down across from them both.

It wasn’t unlike Fred to become both more cheeky, and an absolute pile of mush around you.

“Hi there, love,” Fred said casually, leaning against his books in front of him. He tapped his cauldron playfully. “Blow things up here often?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” George stifled a laugh. “If you’re going to flirt, at least be good at it.”

The all too familiar dreadful monotone suddenly filled the room, and everyone went quiet. “Silence……..Mr. Weasley, or I’m afraid you’ll find yourself in yet another detention. Not that that’s particularly… unlike you, is it?”

A few Slytherins started to laugh at Snape’s passive aggressive comment, and George huffed in his seat and pulled his spellbook out of his bag. But Fred hardly moved; instead he stayed where he was, drumming his fingers against the desk, letting his eyes wash over you. “Now, if you’ll open up your spellbooks..”

When Snape’s attention was turned toward a few bored looking Ravenclaws, you scooted closer to the twins and whispered, “Easy there, Fred. Don’t want to go getting on Snape’s bad side so early in the term, yeah?”

As Fred watched you run your painted fingernails along the words in your spellbook, muttering incantations to yourself as if you were studying for another lesson in the middle of this one, he reckoned getting on Snape’s bad side for you would be absolutely worth it.

-- -

“That’s barbaric! Harry, we’ve got to go to Dumbledore,” Hermione insisted.

Everyone was sitting around in the Gryffindor common room, peering at Harry’s red, scabbed, and bloodied hand. Looked as though he’d just come from a detention with Umbridge.

“I can’t believe she can get away with this. Bloody Ministry will do anything!” Ron cried, inching his way closer to Harry on the couch to get a better look. “Fudge is in over his head.”

George scoffed. “Doesn’t help that our stupid prat of a brother is filling the Minister’s head with nothing but praise for his ideas,”

It was unfortunate to see the toll that Umbridge was taking out on everybody. Each and every person close to Harry wanted to report Umbridge’s so-called disciplinary actions, but Harry insisted not too. He didn’t want to bring any light to it; not that anything would help the situation. Dumbledore staying Headmaster was just about as likely as Draco Malfoy not being a foul git.

“Harry,” you said gently, placing a hand to his knee, “I’m so sorry. Let me fix it up for you, yeah?”

Harry nodded thankfully, and Fred watched as you carefully tended to Harry’s hand. Of course. You’d wanted to be a Healer ever since he met you -- and probably before that, too. He couldn’t help but grin foolishly at your compassionate touch, and Harry’s appreciative glance. Fred felt his heart soar so high, he would’ve married you right then and there.

Later on, once most everyone had gone to bed, Fred spotted you near the fire, sipping on a cup of tea with your nose in a book. “Hey,” he said, placing himself next to you. “That was really nice what you did for Harry, you know.”

“Oh, ‘twas nothing anyone else wouldn’t have done,” you waved him off. “Besides -- it’s good practice. Madam Pomfrey says I should try and do as much as I can, if it isn’t a dramatic injury, just to get my feet wet. You know?”

Fred nodded; there was something about your empathy toward others that sent him into a dizzying type of feeling. He adored how softhearted you were. How good-natured. You always had been, ever since he knew you; ever since that time you seemingly nursed him back to health after a nasty bludger hit his shoulder during a Quidditch match during your fifth year.

“How’d this happen, Freddie? You’re normally so on top of Quidditch.”

“Was distracted.”

“By what?”

“By you, darling.”

He remembered your small laugh and eye roll as you’d gone and grabbed him a cup of tea; you’d even helped him carry his spellbooks to class everyday.

“D’you reckon this is something… a girlfriend does?”

“Fred, I have absolutely no problem hexing you, even with your broken shoulder.”

You two were sitting so close now. He was peering at you with what could only be described as “googly eyes”, and he could swear that the rise and fall of your chest was a little bit heavier than normal, as was the tension hanging in the air between you both. Maybe, he thought, that repeatedly asking you out wasn’t the way to go. Maybe he just needed to really go for it --

Just then, Ginny hopped through the portrait hole, looking positively dreadful. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and she kept scratching at her hand. “Gin?” Fred asked, his older brother demeanor immediately kicking into gear. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Ginny said brightly. If it hadn’t been for her disgruntled look, you both never would’ve known she was upset. “Just got caught up in the library working on an essay. See you for breakfast,”

But something felt strange to you. As you watched Ginny ascend the stairs to the girls dormitory, you noticed her hand was red. It looked as though she’d been scratching at it for hours. She noticed your lingering gaze, and quickly slid her hand into her pocket. Had she been in detention with Umbridge, too?

To Fred, though, this seemed to go unnoticed. He was already back to inching his way closer to you, a copy of the latest Daily Prophet clutched tightly in between his fingers.

-- -

“I’ve got it,”

Fred was sitting next to George, Ron, and Harry in the Great Hall during the feast. You, Hermione, Ginny, and a few other Gryffindors were down the other end of the table, no doubt discussing the prospect of soulmates (a few of the Gryffindor Quidditch ladies had found theirs). Fred felt his insides constrict. He just had to go for it already, didn’t he?

He’d missed the chance to kiss you that night in the common room, the night Ginny had come in looking slightly off. And he certainly didn’t want to kiss you in front of all of these people, especially if there was rejection involved. Fred had always been confident, and he knew, deep down, that you felt the same way he did. But there was always that tiny twinge of self-doubt..

So instead, when he spotted Umbridge acting like a right git to some poor little Hufflepuff who was eating at the Ravenclaw table, he knew he had to spring into action. Especially because this sweet Hufflepuff was now awaiting a very disturbing detention.

“Got what?” George asked, mouthful of cauldron cake. Very stealthily, Fred used his wand to shrink a canary cream and slowly send it over onto Umbridge’s plate. Her cronies were nowhere in sight, and everyone in the Great Hall seemed to be distracted; he honestly wasn’t surprised that it went unnoticed. It grew back to its regular size on her plate, and Fred took a steady deep breath, knowing that in just a few moments, your beautiful sounding laugh would echo across the Great Hall.

“Merlin,” George began to curse under his breath. “Mate, those are prototypes! If she finds out that was us -- “

“Relax, Georgie, would you? It’s like you doubt my expertise,” Fred rolled his eyes, biting his lip in anticipation as Umbridge relaxed herself back into her seat, an air of arrogance surrounding her. She took a slight sip of her tea, and bit into what looked to her like a regular custard cream.

A loud shout engulfed the room, followed by the unmistakable laughs of students from every single house. Umbridge had transformed into a very large canary, causing Professors to jump up, appalled, students to stand on the tables in applause, and you to widen your bright eyes in admiration.

Fred savoured those five seconds in which Umbridge was not dressed in her normal obnoxious colored pink outfits, but instead was sporting very bright yellow feathers and an orange beak. But almost as instantly as it had happened, she returned to her normal self -- her hair askew and in every which direction, her clothes an absolute mess. “Who is behind this?!” she shrieked.

George stealthily high fived his twin underneath the table. Fred, actually seemingly impressed with himself that he was able to pull this off, got up from the table and maneuvered his way through the sea of students to get to you. He sat himself down next to you, his legs facing out toward the middle of the Great Hall, his arms leaning back onto the table. “So?”

“Quite the diversion you’ve caused there,” you replied cheekily, stirring your tea with your spoon and peering into his eyes with nothing but respect in yours. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that my favorite bird is a canary, would it?”

Fred scoffed. “Love, you act as if I do these things just to impress you, you know?” He elbowed you playfully and then his lips formed a very serious, thin line. “But yes, it has everything to do with the fact that your favorite bird is a canary. And I absolutely do all of these things just to impress you.”

You shook your head and leaned in closer. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

In his attempt to get you to profess your love for him, and the fact that he couldn’t hear anything else but the blood pounding in his own ears due to your compliment, he’d missed the fact that Filch had been watching from the sidelines, and had told Umbridge exactly who was to blame for the canary cream incident. She had George by the ear in one hand, and pulled Fred to his feet with the other. “Detention, the both of you!”

“Fred,” George grunted through gritted teeth, “if this detention alone doesn’t kill us, consider yourself dead, mate! I’m going to kill you!”

You pressed your lips together and attempted to stifle a laugh as Umbridge pulled the two of them out of the Great Hall rather dramatically. The cheers from the students (and some Professors, actually) and the soft, sympathetic glances from you were everything that Fred needed to keep him afloat as he wandered into this detention which held nothing but dread. “Reckon it was worth it, Georgie.”

-- -

Fred Weasley normally didn’t regret things. But this, he did. His bloodied hand was looking worse as time went on, and the scowl from his twin wasn’t helping this detention to move along any quicker. He wrote again, on his parchment, with Umbridge’s stupid special quill, I must not be a burden.

Pft, burden. The woman was a bigger burden than he’d ever be. Finally, the clock struck eight, and he and George were released back into the corridors, both of them rubbing feverishly at their swollen, scarlet-colored hands.

“What d’you say we try and sell more of our products tonight?” Fred asked his twin, trying to lighten the tension in the air.

“Yeah,” George replied, running his fingers over the scabs that were now scarring. “Maybe after I kill you.”

Fred rolled his eyes; he wasn’t going to hear the end of this one.. not for a long, long time. George popped through the portrait hole, and just as Fred was about to enter, he heard his name echo across the moving staircases.

“Young girl heading your way!” said one of the talking portraits cheerily. Fred’s eyebrows threaded together until he spun around, only to be face to face with you.

“Are you alright?” you asked before examining his hand. “That woman is vile, I tell you. Pure vile.”

Fred laughed; the sight of you alone seemed to make him feel that much better. But then he noticed your own hand -- raw and red, as if you’d been picking at it for hours. “Don’t worry about me, what happened to you?”

Fred couldn’t help but notice the way your cheeks went very, very pink. You flushed easily with embarrassment, and immediately shoved your hands into the robes of your pocket. “Oh, erm -- funny story, actually -- “

And then something hit Fred straight in his gut. The words that Charlie had spoken when he’d been telling his siblings about soulmates, and all the ways they could find one another -- when you write on your skin, it shows up on your soulmate’s skin.

Yikes; that could’ve been wonderfully romantic; and yet, here you both were, remnants of Umbridge’s right awful detention plastered on both of your hands -- what a bloody awful way to find out who your soulmate is! However, the feeling of adrenaline coursing itself through his veins at the sight of you, unraveling his thoughts, only seemed to intensify his feelings.

And suddenly, Fred forgot all about the pain in his hand; he forgot about all of those times he’d put himself out there and had been rejected by you for fear of ruining the friendship. He couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t so head over heels for you. “Well would you look at that?” he asked, peering down at the very faint words of I must not be a burden on your own hand. “I reckon I’ve found my soulmate. Cosmic destiny, and all that.”

You huffed a bit, but sized him up still. “You’re never going to let me live this one down, are you?”

“Not quite, love. Not disappointed, are you?”

“Disappointed? Never.” You replied dreamily. After a haughty laugh, you leaned in closer, softly pressing your lips to his ear. “Guess you were right, Weasley. You did wear me down.”

His lips met yours in a fiery explosion, and you suddenly both realized how hungry you were for one another. But just as you were both going to hop back through the portrait hole and run up to your dormitory, Fred pulled away and groaned.

“What is it? Not quite living up to your expectations?” you teased.

“Oh no, believe me, it’s better than,” he winked. “I’ve just realized something, though.”

“What?”

He groaned again. “My mum’s going to knit you a Weasley sweater.”

[emerywrites]

Fanfic: “Please don’t make a fuss”

So, I recently got back into Harry Potter and reread all of the books. Percy Weasley is one of my favorite characters and since its his birthday I wrote a fic. I hope that people enjoy it. :) 

 Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy hated anyone making a fuss about his birthday. For twenty years he got away with passing it by with little acknowledgement. One year his daughters decide to change that.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: survivors guilt, PTSD

Percy always did his best to ignore his birthday. During the time that he had been estranged from his family, he had seen little reason to make a fuss about his birthday and the habit had stuck with him. Soon after he and Oliver had reignited their relationship, he told him that he didn’t want any birthday celebrations. Oliver had respected that other than a small gift and a “Happy birthday, love” the morning of August 22nd every year.

When Molly and Lucy were old enough to understand birthdays, things had changed, of course. They insisted on making homemade cards and having a cake. Percy allowed it and ate a small piece of cake as he admired their artistic efforts.

He remembered some particularly interesting cards on his birthday after they’d turned five. “That’s you, Daddy, and that’s me and that’s a dragon!” Molly had explained as she pointed to barely discernable shapes she had drawn in crayon.

“Oh, a dragon, how unique, dear,” he said to his daughter before leaning over to mutter to Oliver, “She’s been spending too much time with Charlie.”

Lucy showed him her own art of their family playing quidditch and Percy had been just as encouraging. It was easy to enjoy a birthday with small children who were an easy distraction. When they were young, he could allow his birthday to be more about them than himself.

But as they got older, that changed. His daughters wanted to get him gifts with their pocket money. They asked why they had birthday celebrations at the Burrow for everyone else in the family and why they went to see Papa’s family on his birthday, but never did any of that for Daddy. It was difficult to explain the complicated emotions that went along with Percy’s desire to not think about his birthday. So, he never did. He only ever said that all he wanted for his birthday was peace and quiet with his husband and daughters.

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

Molly and Lucy were fifteen and August 22nd had come around yet again. They successfully avoided mentioning his birthday other than a kiss on his cheek that morning with a “Happy birthday, Dad”. The rest of the day was spent in Diagon Alley getting their school supplies and of course a special gift for Molly for being made prefect and Lucy for being made captain of the quidditch team. Percy was more than happy to make their successes the focus of the day.

After they got home, Molly ran upstairs to try on her new robes with her prefect’s badge. Moments later she came running back down. “I can’t find my badge!” Percy promised her that they would look until they found it.

Then Lucy piped up with, “I think you left it at the Burrow yesterday, when we went to show Grandmum and Granddad.”

Molly gasped. “You’re right! We have to go get it, right now.”

“Alright,” Percy agreed. “Ollie, you take Molly to get the badge. Lu and I can get started on dinner.”

“Dad, you know how Gran is, she’ll be disappointed if we don’t stay for dinner,” Molly told him. “We should all go.”

That was when Percy got suspicious. But he didn’t want to act paranoid and relented into going along. He side-long apparated with Lucy and Oliver with Molly. When they showed up outside of the Burrow, Percy immediately knew something was wrong. None of his nieces or nephews were outside running around. Usually there were at least a couple of them always underfoot no matter where you went around the Burrow.

He got a bad feeling that he knew what was about to happen. “Ollie, I’m not feeling too well. The three of you can stay. I’ll just go back…” But the three of them were already going up to the door. Percy followed, feeling his stomach twist into a knot as he desperately hoped that he was wrong in his prediction.

They entered the Burrow, just for the entire family to shout, “Surprise!” Every one of his siblings and their families were there, crammed inside his childhood home. It was overwhelming to see all of their smiling faces, there for him. Percy’s first instinct was to bolt and he would have if it had not been for him backing straight into his husband’s strong chest. He swallowed hard and plastered on a grin.

Percy kindly thanked them for such an amazing surprise. Everyone explained how it had all been Molly and Lucy planning the whole thing. Oliver hadn’t even known about it as the girls knew that he could never keep a secret from Percy.

Percy told himself, he would just get through the evening. He could do it. He’d often enough kept up a façade for politicians and department heads that he had to socialize with. He’d managed to trick Death Eaters into thinking that he wasn’t a threat to their take over of the ministry. It should be easy to pretend to his family that he was happy on his birthday.

They all sat outside at tables magically extended to their limit to hold the, what seemed to be, ever-growing number of Weasleys. Percy sat next to Oliver who was holding an enthusiastic conversation about quidditch with Ginny. His daughters were a bit further down the table talking animatedly with their cousins. He caught a few words of Molly bragging about her new status as prefect in the up-coming school year. Percy tried not to think about his twin brothers’ teasing about “perfect prefect Percy” and how he kind of wished he could reminisce with Fred and George about it. And, now he was thinking about Fred…

Percy hadn’t even noticed that his mother had gone inside. Then she was suddenly coming back out into the garden, floating a towering chocolate cake that had his name in icing. Freddie and Roxanne’s set of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes patented fireworks flashed and screamed through the sky. Percy thought he was going to throw up. He flinched and saw flashes of the walls of Hogwarts castle coming down… Fred’s lifeless eyes…

Percy stood abruptly, knocking his chair backwards. Everyone’s attention turned to him. Smiles faded from their faces when they saw the panicked expression he wore. “I have to go,” he said shakily.

He ran inside, knowing that there was no way he was steady enough to apparate. The intention was to take the floo home but the powder was not on the mantle where it usually was. He was about to try and summon it when Oliver came running in.

“Percy! Percy, what happened out there?” Oliver’s voice was so concerned and that just made Percy feel worse for making a scene.

“I can’t do this, Ollie,” he said hoarsely. There was a lump of emotion in his throat that made it difficult to get his words out. “I can’t be here.”

“Why not, love? I know you don’t like people to make a fuss about your birthday but the girls really wanted to do something special. They wanted to give you a proper birthday.”

“And they are lovely for wanting to do that. But you don’t understand!” How did he explain it? How could he, when saying it out loud would hurt more than anything?

Then Oliver was much closer. He put his hands on either side of Percy’s face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that Percy didn’t even realize he had shed. “Love, you’re scaring me. What is going on?”

Percy gently took his wrists and pushed the hands away. “I hate my birthday,” he said slowly. “After… after I left, I stopped caring about my birthday. I had my work and it just felt like another distraction.”

Oliver nodded. “So, you’re out of practice in celebrating. We can fix that. We’ll just start a bit smaller next time.” He laughed as if it was that easy.

“That’s not it!” he snapped. He was shouting. He didn’t mean to be but no one understood and they wouldn’t until he got it out. He couldn’t help but look away toward the fireplace. The words that sat on the tip of his tongue weren’t supposed to be out there. They were meant to stay there in his heart, slowly eating him alive. At least there, they couldn’t damage anyone else. “My birthday is just a reminder, Ollie! It’s a reminder that I get another year, year after year! I get to grow old and Fred doesn’t! It’s a reminder to my family that the wrong son survived! I can pretend… I can pretend that I’m okay if I just don’t let anyone make a fuss about celebrating. It feels wrong to make them celebrate it.”

Percy finally allowed himself to look at Oliver. His husband was staring at him, his mouth opening and closing like he didn’t know what to say, but was struggling to find the words. But just past Oliver, standing at the threshold of the kitchen, was his father looking at him with pain-filled eyes.

“Is that what you really believe?” Arthur asked as he approached. “That we think the wrong son survived?”

Percy really wished he had just pushed through and gotten to the end of the dinner. He should have found a way to keep the smile on his face and his bum in his chair. Now, he was hurting his father all over again. “No!” he tried to lie. “I…it’s…” Both his father and his husband looked at him with pity and that was humiliating. There was no point in lying when they could see through him like a ghost. “Yes, that’s… that’s always what I believed. How could I not? It felt like the cost of me returning to the family was Fred’s life. Like it was some sort of horrible exchange. And you lost, someone as well-loved as Fred to get me… the broken one who came back too late.”

“None of us have ever thought that,” Arthur said with an adamant shake of his head. “Losing Fred was a tragedy. That loss is always going to be there. But I also got a son back that day, Percy. And I apologize, that we obviously didn’t do enough to make you feel fully welcomed back and that you thought we wouldn’t want to celebrate having you.”

“Dad, you don’t need to-” But then his dad was hugging him. It was strange. He tried to remember the last time his dad had hugged him like that. It had been a while.

When he was eventually released, he realized that Oliver had slipped out of the room. His dad looked at him and cleared his throat. “If you need to go home, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well. But I think everyone would really love for you to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” he said softly as he adjusted his glasses. “Molly and Lucy did put a lot of work into this.”

The reassurance had been needed but the fear of being unwanted still sat like a heavy stone on his chest. But then he followed his dad back outside to the garden. Everyone turned to look at him and in overlapping voices said how happy they were he came back out. George came out of nowhere to throw an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I told the little troublemakers to cool it with the fireworks,” George whispered into his ear. “They can set me off too sometimes.”

Then George was pulling him over to the cake, sitting on the table. The candles had been placed and were alight. A spell had been used to keep the wax from melting onto the icing. Molly and Lucy ran up beside him.

“Make a wish, Dad!” Lucy encouraged.

Percy let his eyes fall shut for a moment as he made his wish. Then he opened them again and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and his mother gave him a kiss on the cheek before she went to serve the cake.

The overwhelming love he felt in that moment was almost too much. It had soothed his fear to the point that it had gone dormant. It would come back but he had a feeling its potency had been dulled.

“What’d you wish for?” Lucy asked softly.

“For every birthday to be as amazing as this one,” he replied.

[prentissinred]

Already Gone pt.2

Special shoutout to @eprcntiss for the nudge to write a part two ☺️

Rated T Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Word Count: 2k  AO3

Part One: Already Gone

Part Two: Love Me Better

Aaron closed the door to the study behind him, pretending he didn't hear that final choked sob. He blinked his own tears back; they had no place on what was supposed to be the second happiest day of his life.

She was leaving.

Some twisted part of him was almost glad. That he no longer had to walk into work and feel like his heart was being slowly carved out of his chest every time she looked at him, every time she got into her own car to return to a home that wasn't theirs. It was unfair to the point of cruelty, having to face the future he had been planning for years, ripped away in the course of an evening...only to return months later, just out of his reach.

He had grieved her, as surely as if she had died on that operating table. Grieved the sight of the diamond he had picked out on her left hand. Grieved the house they'd been eyeing, the one with enough rooms for all the plans they’d made and a yard big enough for the dog they had promised to Jack. Grieved every night of fevered touches under the covers and every night they had been too exhausted to do anything except curl against the warmth of the other.

She had eventually returned, like a phantom coming back to him. Relieved though he was that she was finally safe, there wasn't a moment where he saw her and was not reminded of every deception, every moment she had chosen to tell him that she was fine instead of the truth. Running became the only healthy outlet for the pain. And a few weeks later, it led him to a funny, kind brunette who had him smiling for the first time in over a year.

Beth. He shook himself out of the internal crisis he was having against the wall of Dave's living room. He had to find her, hold her, remind himself why he'd asked her to marry him and why it had felt so right just yesterday. Remind himself of everything good about them. Because she was good — exceedingly so. Because she was not frustrating and complicated and closed-off and asking the worst kinds of questions at the worst possible time. He jogged up the stairs to the master bedroom where she was getting ready with her mother.

“You know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” Dave’s voice came up behind him.

He gave his friend a wane smile. "I think we can dispense with the superstitions."

"Say what you will, but I said the same thing at my first, and look how well that turned out." Aaron could only chuckle dryly in response.

Dave clapped his arm. “Nervous?”

"A little." He hadn't been. In fact, he’d been filled with certainty at the start of the evening. He tried not to think too much about why that had changed. I loved you. I love you.

"I saw Emily left.” Dave’s voice was pointedly relaxed.

"Oh?"

"Tonight can't have been easy for her." I love you.

"I suppose."

"Mmm. Anyway, I think Beth's just about ready." Dave placed a guiding hand on his shoulder. "We should head down, get this show on the road." Aaron let himself be led down the stairs, glancing back just once at the door that hid his soon-to-be wife from view.

He stood underneath the decorated archway, next to his beaming son, and faced his team, all looking at him with encouraging smiles. He tried to return them, despite the knot that was steadily growing in his stomach. The music started, a lilting, romantic track, as the crowd turned to face the house. Beth emerged, lovely in her strapless gown, carrying a simple bouquet of white roses, walking towards him on her mother's arm.

And maybe it would have been different if he had spoken to her upstairs. Or if he had never walked into Dave's study in the first place. But as Beth took her first step onto the aisle, Aaron knew with an absolute, terrifying clarity that he couldn’t go through with this. That this moment he had been picturing for so long was missing a woman who was currently making plans to leave the country.

Before he could talk himself over to the side of propriety, he walked up the aisle. The music cut off abruptly, and there was a ripple of whispers from his guests. By the time he reached her, pieces of his heart chipped away at the sight of her confused face. He held her hand in both of his and pleaded, "I need to talk to you."

She listened to his insufficient explanation, the tears welling her eyes the only reflection of the hurt he was causing her. He told her that she was beautiful and wonderful and he did love her and she had made him so happy and yesterday there hadn't been a doubt in his mind when he asked her to be his wife. She let him ramble for a while, eventually shutting him up with a cupped hand to his face. Lips pressed lightly against his cheek, then in a voice infinitely kinder than he deserved, she let him go. "I hope you get her back."

And that was it. He stood there, watching her head back up the stairs, and silently wished her every happiness with someone worthy of her.

With a deep breath and a brush over his face to clear any lingering tears, he exited the house with renewed determination to find a huddled group of guests. The only outlier was Beth's mother, who stared at him in consternation before following her daughter into the house without another word to him. At the movement, his team turned towards him, a mixture of confusion and shock on their faces — or, in the case of Dave, an enigmatic smile.

"JJ," Aaron called out.

She approached him, frown lines etched into her forehead and brows. "Aaron, what's going on? Is everything okay?"

"I need your help, please. The address to Emily's new apartment."

Understanding smoothed her features and she gave him a wide grin as she entered the address into his phone. "Oh, and would you mind watching Jack for a little while?"

"Even better, why don't Jack and Henry have a sleepover tonight? What do you say, boys?" JJ presented her plans animatedly to the two boys who had appeared by their feet. Aaron bent down to tell his son that he would explain everything tomorrow, but his words fell on already distracted ears. He thanked her and made his way to his car, the eyes of his friends on his back reminding him that this was his last chance to bring her home.

Her apartment was tucked away in a nondescript brick mid-rise. A far cry from the lush DC duplex he had spent countless nights in. She opened the door on his second knock. Dressed down in shorts and a loose shirt that hung off her shoulder, makeup-free with her curled hair pulled up into a ponytail. She looked as beautiful as she had a few hours ago. Every impassioned word he had rehearsed on his way over landed dead on his tongue, and instead, his first words to her were a brusque, "Can I come in?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He didn't reply, pressing past her into an apartment he had never entered before. Sparse, only the bare essentials, cardboard boxes stacked in the corner. Nothing more than a passing stop, a sign that she had never really come back to them.

"You told me you love me. Was that the truth?" He stood in the center of her small living room, arms crossed over his chest, his tone more biting than he had planned.

She gaped at him, ignoring the question. "Seriously, Aaron, what the fuck are you doing here?"

He forged on, pacing small steps next to the couch, glancing up at her every few seconds. "It destroyed me, you know. Seeing your credentials open in your desk because you had run. Sitting by your fucking hospital bed because I was too late to save you. Listening to you tell me that you didn’t want to marry me. Everything we had talked about, all the plans we had, just...gone."

“Aaron. I told you, I had to." Her voice broke, but her eyes stayed dry. Aaron wondered if the two of them had shed enough tears over the other to last a lifetime. "I had to—“

“Protect me. I know. But, god, Em." He gestured between them. "We’re supposed to be a team. We work through everything, even the ugly stuff, together. You were supposed to trust that I would be there for you. Not run away, and nearly get yourself killed in the process.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. It is exactly that simple.”

“No.” Her voice was sharp and resolute. “It isn’t. It was my fight. My past, my mistakes. If you, any of you, had gotten hurt because of that, I could have never lived with myself. You can't tell me you don't understand that."

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose and decided to cede this particular battle. Maddening, stubborn woman.

“Fine. I accept.”

“What?”

"I accept that you did what you had to do. That you thought you had to handle it alone. I accept why you left then." He stepped closer to her and she unconsciously took a step back, nearly flush with her front door. "But why are you leaving now?"

"This again..." she sighed wearily. "Aaron, I told you. I can't stay here anymore."

"And why is that?"

He watched her nostrils flare in indignation. "Fuck, because I can't! I can't pretend anymore, I won't do it. I came back expecting my life to go back to normal. Except it isn't normal. It isn’t even my life anymore. I'm like a fucking spectator, watching everyone move on while I can’t. "

The implication — accusation — was clear, and the guilt struck hard and low in his gut. Her only mistake was thinking that he had ever really moved on.

"I'm sorry," his voice shifted to quiet contriteness. "I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me. It hurt too much to be around you. And you seemed...okay. So I convinced myself you were."

She said nothing for a while, her arms wrapping around her middle defensively. "It's okay. It wasn't your job to take care of me. You've already done more—"

"Emily, why don't you get it?" The frustration pierced through once more, coming out more desperate than anything else.

"Get what?!" she rose to his pitch.

"You're supposed to depend on me. We’re supposed to depend on each other. I know you're strong, you're so fucking strong sweetheart, but I get to take care of you sometimes too. Fuck, how are we supposed to spend the rest of our lives together if you can’t trust me enough to do that?”

She sucked in a sharp breath and her entire body, even the air around them, shifted. “Spend the rest of our lives together?”

“Of course. I thought that was fairly obvious.”

She glared at him. “It really wasn't."

“Oh. My apologies.” He stepped closer to her. “Consider this your notice then.”

He caught the way her lips turned up for a split second before she remembered herself, wanting to hold onto her heated temper for a little longer. “Where’s Beth?”

“At home, I suspect.”

“I already told Easter I’d take the job.” Her voice was just a whisper now, devoid of almost all conviction.

“What, like 2 hours ago? Call him back, Emily.”

He was looming over her, barely an inch of space between them, their eyes locked onto each other. It was a different kind of battle, the kind where victory only came when neither side backed down.

Finally — “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I'll call him back."

There wasn't an adequate word to describe the relief he felt at those five words. Every inch of him ached to touch her, but he held onto his patience for a few more seconds, bending his head towards her and whispering, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Her eyes were closed in anticipation. "What question?" she breathed.

"Were you telling me the truth? When you said you love me?"

"Don't be an idiot. Of course I was." And she pushed up on her toes and closed the gap between them.

It felt like coming home. There were still discussions to be had and arguments to be fought as they re-learned and re-trusted. But, for now, the familiar taste of her warmed every particle in his body until he was practically vibrating with want. It was desperate and urgent, their lips and teeth and tongues clashing and biting and invading. His hands roamed the entirety of her, a need to ensure that she was really here this time. She clung to him just as tightly, pressing into him until he could feel her heart hammering away in her chest.

When they pulled apart, both gasping for the air that had escaped their lungs, he touched his forehead to hers. "In case this wasn't obvious either...I’ve never stopped loving you."

[shutupaboutandraste]

“  you  keep  using  that  word.  i  do  not  think  it  means  what  you  think  it  means.  ” for Adaar x Dorian? Welcome!

Excellent choice let’s goooo! I mention another Adaar Inquisitor in this little drabble and that’s because my Inquisitor is brother to my friends’ Inquisitor so I usually try to include them both ^u^

Words: 1565

Pairing: Dorian/Inquisitor Adaar

For @dadrunkwriting​ 

Tramping around Ferelden was hardly Asaara Adaar’s favorite activity. In fact, he would consider it one of his least favorite. The entire country seemed to be made of mud and mountains with nary a plain or decent stretch of flatland to be found. Weather in the Free Marches was far more predictable, more comfortable, far better than anything Ferelden had to offer. Yet, his distaste didn’t have anything on Dorian’s. ​

“Inconceivable!” Dorian hissed, for probably the fifth time since they had started their trek through the Hinterlands. Asaara rubbed his palm around The Mark, reminding himself that at least Dorian was easy to look at.  

Varric laughed, “Sparkler, believe you me, it’s conceivable.” 

“The King of Ferelden can’t be chosen by single combat,” argued Dorian, “That’s horrible politics. Hilarious, but horrible.” 

“It’s how they do it here, I swear!” promised the rogue, adjusting Bianca over his shoulder with a winning smile, “Hell, I think Hawke would have preferred that too. Not that they ever got the chance to become Viscount.” 

“Didn’t they kind of prove that by beating the Arishok?” asked Asaara, turning his head slightly to ask. It was always a way to check if their last companion was still around. Or, at least, if it was visible. When his teeth grit at noticing the very obvious lack of Cole, the spirit hybrid appeared at the side of his eye. Good. He was getting better at reminding them that he was there. 

Another deep rumble came from Varric, “I guess you’re right!” 

Dorian scoffed, but said nothing. Clearly, the ways of the South were too much for his delicate sensibilities. Asaara didn’t mind it--his mind wandered to his elder brother Arug, who would have reveled in such simplicity. In another life, the two might have been Arvaraad and Sarebaas, but Asaara liked to think their own style of mage and protector worked out just fine. Fine enough that Arug had felt comfortable staying back at Skyhold at any rate. 

Besides, it was hard to actually talk to Dorian when Arug hovered. Magic unsettled Arug on a good day, but Dorian seemed to do so in particular. And, whether Asaara liked to admit it or not there was something undeniably charming about the Tevinter altus. (Not magister, he had to remind himself, just the son of one.) 

To be fair, it could be hard to talk to Dorian in general. The man was proud, charismatic, and bold like a pristine sunset that reflected itself back in a lake. He talked quickly, usually in circles around other people, but not Asaara. He could hang on every word like gospel. It had begun with inquiries into the time magic that Dorian had studied. Devouring the information had been thrilling, but Asaara came out with plenty of notions. Notions such as the obvious understanding within Dorian’s eyes, but that his speech could twist the truth to get even the best to believe in his work. Or, perhaps, more worryingly, that Dorian’s eyes sparkled when he was excited. That his smile made Asaara’s heart twist ever so slightly. Asaara was rarely tongue-tied, but he had to focus on his words more when Dorian was around.

Still, it didn’t mean Asaara had endless patience. Dorian could be a vain, proud braggart who thought that he was the Maker’s gift to magic. Once one knew him better, that shed slightly, but he could still be pretentious. And, Asaara reminded himself constantly, Dorian was still of Tevinter while Asaara was a Vashoth Qunari. 

 The conversation moved, Cole whispering to himself. Asaara was glad of it-- Cole was muttering his thoughts again. His fingers gently tapped Cole’s wrist which got the other to stop, apologizing quietly. There were many people Asaara found easy to be angry at, but Cole wasn’t one of them. Where he could argue with Vivienne until they were both blue in the face or ignore Cassandra until she looked ready to hit him, Cole was just trying to help. Not berate him with opinions or Chantry nonsense. That didn’t always make what Cole had to say easy to hear. 

So, when Dorian exclaimed, “Inconceivable!” again over something very conceivable-- something about Ferelden fashion and shield maidens-- it was Cole who said Asaara’s thoughts out. 

“You keep using that word,” hummed Cole, “I do not think it means what you think it means.” 

“...Pardon me, Cole?” 

“The word,” Cole continued, “Not believable. It blocks the idea of possibility. An unending wall for the dream of something strange. You use it for things that have already happened that you simply don’t understand. But Adaar understands the difference.” 

“...So are these thoughts your’s or his?” asked Dorian, directing the question toward Cole but looking at Asaara. He grimaced. 

“They were his…” admitted Cole, “But I began to wonder, too.” 

Asaara shrugged, trying to offer Dorian a charismatic smirk, “He’s not wrong. You aren’t using that word correctly.” 

“Yes, I am. Varric--” Dorian’s face dropped as Varric gave him a sheepish smile. He huffed, “Alright then, I’ve been made a fool of. Let’s move along through this horrendously massive forest before a bear decides to go after The Inquisitor again.” 

His face twisted into a mockery of a pout. After knowing Dorian for some time now, it was easy to pick out expressions. This one was embarrassed, his eyes darting toward the trees to avoid looking at any of them, but with his chest puffed out like a peacock. Perhaps, Dorian was too easy to look at. Most people couldn’t watch someone as if they were an exotic animal, learn their habits, learn which lines of their face crinkled certain ways to show their feelings.

Two mages and two rogues were also probably not the best equipped to fight Ferelden wildlife, which made Dorian very right in that regard. Asaara admitted that after a long morning-- Cassandra bleating at him, Iron Bull’s hearty laughter starting to grate his ears mixed with Blackwall's preference for traveling with Sera who was her own jar of bees-- he had probably made a mistake in a hasty party. Not that he minded. Each of the three were the most pleasant of his company. Still, he didn’t want to have to fight more bears. 

They pressed on, hoping to reach one of the camps before nightfall while they looked for herbs for the healers. Once that was all collected and the farms checked on, they could be on their way. Still, a gentle silence hung over them. Fennecs raced by them as the headed upward through a mountain. What Asaara hadn’t expected was for Dorian to softly break the silence between them while Varric animatedly began discussing something with Cole. 

“You’re quite intelligent, Inquisitor,” he remarked. 

Asaara’s lips twitched as he forced himself not to scowl, “For a qunari, I know.” Bastard. It was always the pretty ones who ended up being bastards. 

“No, I mean.. Yes, but no!” Dorian realized his fumble as he began to search for words, “Kaffas. I mean in general. Most people aren’t as smart as you are.” 

Asaara rolled his eyes, “I think the members of the Inquisition each have a plethora of intelligence.”

“Do not bullshit me, Inquisitor,” huffed Dorian, “It doesn’t become you.” 

Asaara whipped his head to look at him, surprised, “Doesn’t… Then what does become me?” A curl of suggestiveness pulled at the side of his mouth turning into a bit of smugness. 

For a moment, he watched Dorian’s eyes soften. Edges rounded as a smile ticked up softly. Those two perfect lips pursed before a twisted, pleased smile of his own graced Dorian’s face. If the wind felt knocked out of Asaara by that soft sudden change of face, he did not let it show. He had become quite good at that over the years. It came with pretending not to be bothered that everyone thought you were just another stupid Qunari-- or that you were just another violent Vashoth. 

“That smile for one,” said Dorian, “I should like to see it more often. Perhaps over tea in the library once we get back.” 

Had he heard that right? Koslun’s balls, Maker’s ass, Andraste’s shitty mabari, and Fen’harel fucking take him he had. Perhaps his own eyes brightened. Perhaps, he gave a little too much away as his cheeks darkened up, unused to the kind of attention Dorian had just bestowed upon him. Perhaps, it was just enough to keep Dorian interested since his expression didn’t change. Asaara let out a breathy chuckle, keeping his voice even as he nodded at Dorian. 

“I look forward to it,” he said, “So long as you’re not throwing books around in a huff again.” 

Much to his delight, he saw Dorian’s eyes sparkle.

Earlier today, if someone asked him if he thought Dorian would ever look his way, he might have replied ‘Inconceivable’ without hesitation. Now, that prefix has been dropped entirely. Dorian flirting with him was entirely and completely conceivable and right in front of him. And, maybe, just maybe the Hinterlands looked a little more beautiful, a little less muddy. 

He paused, adding, “And, so long as you call me by my name. Inquisitor is so dreadful on the ears after a while.” 

“Asaara, then,” agreed Dorain, giving him a polite nod, “An almost musical name, really. You will have to tell me what it means.”

Inconceivable, indeed.

[uwua3]

hello hello would it be okay to ask for some fluffy and romantic headcanons for tenma with a childhood s/o? they were both in the entertainment industry, but s/o is now playing music in a band (like bang dream!) thank you thank you!

hi anon~ of course!!! 🥺 i never actually got into rhythm beat games because i simply Lack The Talent to play them T___T please excuse me if i say anything wrong~

summary: tenma promised he’d perform with you at your first stadium show, but will he keep his word?

warnings: unhealthy/strict parents

author’s note: i incorporated So Much Stan Twt culture in this, i swear. please look forward to fanboy! tenma and this super cliché, cute headcanon with you as tenma’s first friend/crush!!! sunshine x sunflower couple rise up ♡ this may be slightly ooc + i used poppin’ party’s sunflower dreams lyrics towards the end!!!

word count: 6,795

music: sunflower dreams – poppin’ party

sunflower dreams!

🌻☀️ sumeragi tenma

you were born to be on stage

tenma remembered thinking that the first time he saw you singing into that off mic, absolutely living out your idol dreams in that music room with a guitar much too big for your tiny kid self

you and tenma were about eight years old, and that was the first time he had a crush on anyone before

it was elementary. tenma was already recognized country wide, he was the it child star of the decade, his fame catapulted him to great success early on with two acting parents in the entertainment business

but, why didn’t he have friends, then?

everyone he talked to as a child suddenly didn’t look at him the next day. every time tenma asked his parents, it was always the same answer: “they’ll do nothing for your career, focus on acting”

so when he found you sneaking into the music classroom and stealing one of the teacher’s guitars to use, strumming even if you didn’t know any notes, tenma hid behind the door as he listened

you had a voice made for stardom. you sang like you were performing for a stadium of thousands of fans, you did it confidently as if you’ve been in the industry for years, and you jumped around like this was the last song of your life

you loved music, and before you knew it, tenma became your first and biggest fan. he arrived at the same time everyday after school to sit outside the music practice room and hear you sing again

eight–year–old tenma didn’t know why he lied to his parents, claiming he was just catching up on schoolwork due to his acting career. his grades didn’t change, but it didn’t matter when he got to hide in the corner of the corridor and push his short frame to the ledge of the window to see you playing the guitar

one day, tenma was back again in his usual spot, standing on his tippy–toes to peek into the classroom as always, knowing he was in for a show for the next hour or so before his driver picked him up

it was supposed to be another regular one–man concert all for himself, where he applauded silently for the aspiring musician. but, as you were singing a song you had practiced for a while now, your eyes met his mid–strum of the guitar

you stumbled on your notes and fell silent, eyes wide at the bright orange hair that disappeared behind the wall instantly. before you could react, you heard the squeak of sneakers against the floor as a blur of the school uniform ran past the door and away into the hall

you recognized that face immediately, who wouldn’t? sumeragi tenma was the most popular elementary student ever in the district despite always being alone. you contemplatively stared at the spot where tenma hid, wondering how long he had always been there.

it was the next day and tenma was hesitant, nervousness taking over as his face flushed from yesterday’s events. he was so careless, he couldn’t believe he let himself be discovered like that! tenma rubbed his face, groaning with the stress of an adult as he stood at the entrance of the music hallway

it’s not like he could go anywhere else without getting in trouble, so here he was, returning to visit the school’s secret singer because he wanted to hear the music. but, he seemed like a stalker! tenma swore he just wanted to hear guitar (he pretended like you weren’t his first crush)

before tenma could become chicken and run away from the confrontation, he heard a few familiar notes before you began singing. the recognition kicked in as tenma creeped closer, poking his head around the open door frame with a curious look as you stood dancing around in the middle of the room, already smiling at him

you were singing the ost of the latest drama he was in!

did you learn it just for him? tenma was about to ask, but you ran over, not letting him get away this time as you tossed him a fake mic (which he embarrassingly almost didn’t catch)

were you asking for a duet? your guitar skills had gotten much better over time, in fact, little tenma couldn’t tell the difference between you and the professional who originally played it! tenma felt himself get into the music as you dragged him to the center, giving him an opening to join

tenma took it, and before you two knew it, there was no need to exchange any words as you two sang your heart out without any care in the world to the pop ost

for once in his life, tenma felt like this was what it was like having a friend! he always had those on screen, but this felt real. like, these were the childhood memories he always had to act out for the camera, just yelling lyrics loudly surrounded by instruments and a friend who learned his ost just to make him happy!

out of breath, tenma panted as you played the final notes, letting it hang in the air as the incoming warm air entered through the open windows. you two’s shadows struck final idol poses, like you were actually on stage

a moment of silence passed before you grinned, yelling a celebratory “yes!” as you held your hand out for a high five. tenma just weakly put his palm against yours, trying not to blush from the contact (was this what it was like, holding your hand?)

“dude, we need to start a band!” you exclaimed, not even looking tired as tenma wiped the sweat from his forehead with a grimance. maybe not the right decision if he didn’t have the stamina to be a chart–topping singer

“i... i don’t play any instruments—” tenma started shyly, wringing his hands together before you shook your head rapidly, putting your hands on your hips with an exasperated expression

“but we’re friends!” you insisted, not giving him time to answer as you threw him another water bottle (you had brought an extra, hoping tenma would come by again)

tenma stared at you, shocked as he gripped the water bottle between his small hands. friends? already? was... was this tenma’s first real friend? and his first band, apparently?

you rearranged your items, setting up your music sheets as you quickly glanced over the notes. you could sight read, and you learned it all by yourself, you were so talented, but you wanted to be friends with him?

when you lifted your head with a bright grin, passion within your eyes for music, tenma nodded with determination as he tightened his grip on the bottle. it was his first gift from his first friend

“yeah, we’re friends! let’s do it!” tenma said, watching as you cheered again and confidently high–fiving you this time (last second, you switched your hand to a fist and called it a ‘turkey’. whatever that was)

and that, was the start of the two–man duo band as tenma made his first friend (and crush)

you two grew up together, with tenma prospering in his fame as a multitalented child prodigy

despite his hard–earned popularity as an actor, tenma was never ever late to band practice! you two came to the unlocked music room every day after school, with props as microphones and animatedly daydreaming about stage costumes and the feeling of the lights upon your glowing faces

“do you ever dream about being on stage, ten?” you’d ask, gazing out at the sunset as you fiddled around with the drumsticks, attempting to pick up the beat as your eyes flickered from the orange sky to the worn down drums. tenma would just shrug, laying on the floor after a particularly hard song as he lazily strummed your favorite guitar

(this explained the callouses on your fingers despite being so young, you had rougher hands than him)

“i don’t know, i’m already on t.v.” tenma would justify, just staring at the ceiling as he’d watch the shadows of the trees outside against the surface. these were the moments he remembered the most, where you two took a break from the music and talked endlessly until it was time to go home

“i mean, it’s all scripted, right?” you asked, satisfied as you put your sticks down after finally acing that one technique you struggled with. tenma unstrapped the guitar and rolled to his side, propping his head up with his arm as he considered your question

“yeah... i guess it is.” tenma figured, about to go back to play with the strings before you landed next to him, facing him in the same position as you smiled

you always had that smile whenever you ranted about your ‘big break’, your rise to stardom and dreams to be the #1 global singer in the world (tenma never brought you down to earth, not even for a second)

“on t.v., you can just edit it out, right? but on stage, it’s all live. if i make a mistake, everyone knows.” you furrowed your eyebrows, looking too serious for a young child as you looked past him, as if you were imagining what could go wrong

before tenma could snap you out of it, your eyes landed back on him and you giggled, flopping onto your back as you put your arms across your chest

“that’s what’s so exciting about the stage, ten. every time i go out there, i’m always gonna do my best! i’m gonna be the best performer on the whole entire planet!” you suddenly jumped up, acting out your idol persona as you faked holding a mic, striking your iconic pose you had perfected over time

(tenma just stared up at you, wondering why you shined so much in the light. he wanted to see you under stage lights, though. if you glowed this much now, you would be blinding in front of a crowd)

“and you’ll be with me!” you pointed your invisible mic at tenma as he smiled, not considering any other future as he pushed himself up with his own mic

“i’ll be on stage with you forever!” tenma guarenteed, performing your complex secret handshake as you two made explosion sounds at the end, pretending to fall back from the boom

“come on, let’s practice for when our first show comes!” you ended break time as you took your guitar back. tenma kicked back on the keyboard, not knowing a thing about it but wanting to try his best for you

as you two rocked on, tenma knew you two had were beyond any battle of the bands competition. you two were unstoppable, you two would sell out arenas and pose for the papparazzi together, you two would perform together!

or at least, that’s what tenma thought before one day, his parents came to pick him up

when his famous, high–standard, professional parents arrived to surprise him, they didn’t expect to search the building with a teacher who had no idea she was tutoring him. when they heard the loud singing, all they had to do was coldly glare at their son to make tenma quiet down and obediently follow them to the car

“sumeragi tenma, we raised you better than this. we’ve given you the perfect life, how could you lie to us?!” tenma’s mother cursed, grabbing his hair once they were out of sight of any witnesses. tenma flinched as his parents dragged him to the car, looking back to see you had ran to the entrance with wide eyes

“wait!” you insisted, catching up with his parents with a stubborn expression, holding onto tenma’s blazer sleeve and staring tenma’s father right in his strict face (tenma wished he was as brave and cool as you)

“get off, kid.” tenma’s father spat out, trying to shake you off as tenma kept his head down, attempting not to cry as he bunched his hands into fists. he pretended like this was just some scene, he had to keep his emotions in check behind a mask. he was raised to act like the best son

“no! tenma’s my friend!” you declared and tenma whipped his head up, staring at you with a sad smile as his father scoffed, prying your tight fingers off tenma’s school uniform as you stumbled back. when you hit the ground and sat up, tenma almost escaped his parents’ clutches as he called your name, being shoved into the backseat against his will

“tenma’s not friends with nobodies.” tenma’s father laughed maliciously, slamming the door closed as the family car swerved out of the parking lot

as you put your hand down from blocking the dust, you helplessly watched as tenma performed his end of the secret handshake as he faded into the distance. you stood back up, brushed down your uniform, and made your way back to the music room with tears in your eyes

you were going to be the best lead singer in the world, and tenma was going to sit front row for every show. tenma was gonna be your friend forever

(even if he mysteriously transferred schools the next day)

you began auditions to be involved in the entertainment industry as well

you wanted to be famous just like tenma, if you had become as popular and talented, maybe his parents would let you keep seeing him

entering middle school, you dedicated all your time to improving as an artist outside of your academic studies and transforming the abandoned elementary music room into your practice area

you practiced everyday until your throat was sore, you snuck into the local theatre stage and pretended like it was your concert, you tried to master every instrument that was available to you (though, you never forgot about your original guitar) just to become famous

it wasn’t until you gained your second fan, that your band took off

it was midway through middle school, after countless failed auditions for entertainment companies, that you turned and saw someone hiding in the same spot tenma claimed all those years ago. you blinked, but instead of an orange hue, you found a future bandmate who was just as enthusiastic about music as you

slowly but surely, your band became special to five students as their bond strengthened the core of your group: NATSU-mmer!

(the name flowed naturally since your group’s energetic, poppy, bright music became your image and was a happiness boost for anyone who listened)

although you guys weren’t experienced, your crazy energy and unbreakable friendship sold you to the public as your online covers and self–composed tracks became viral hits over time

you were on guitar and vocals with the support of more guitar, drums, keyboard, and tambourine! as you five practiced until the end of the day, your dedication and passion to music shined as you became famous as the lead singer of NATSU-mmer!

as years passed, you kept tabs on tenma every now and then. you would binge every show he was on, even if he had a minor background role, and couldn’t believe this was the same boy who sang proudly in the afternoon sun like it was a spotlight

tenma was older now, but he still had the same arrogant smirk he wore when he got competitive about beating other bands or who could shriek the highest note. he still had the same orange hair you noticed that one day from behind the window and he still acted like he was the best (maybe, because he was to you)

although you always answered his name when asked who your favorite actor was, you never told anyone your history with him. it felt almost too personal to say anything, when your friendship with him was still close to your heart and would always be associated with those practices after school

you respected his privacy and let him be, knowing damn well you wouldn’t have made it this far without his absence pushing you to be the best possible

(when asked about why you began singing and becoming the leader of your band, you never mentioned the truth: how you wanted to become famous to be tenma’s friend again)

although you two were both now in the entertainment industry, you never reached out to him again because it felt like acting and music was in two different worlds. as tenma dominated the billboards and popularity ratings in magazines, you strummed your guitar and sang with all your heart to your fanbase on stage

you forgot about the promise you had with tenma, until it was time

NATSU-mmer was having its first stadium show as an anniversary gift to the fans, selling out within minutes as you were processing the news. your bandmates screamed around you, jumping up and down as they loudly discussed how this was an once–in–a–lifetime opportunity

you smiled, but you had a distant look in your eyes. you were remembering tenma, even though he hadn’t crossed your mind in months, with the pressure and business of rehearsals and concerts and all that

it was nearing summer, you two were on break again after tenma’s voice cracked from a tune. you did your best not to laugh as you two sat on the desks, staring out at the sunset nearing in silence, just the sound of you two’s slightly heavy breathing from the work out

“do you think we’ll ever become big, ten?” you asked innocently, always talking about your dreams together as if tenma wasn’t a renowned actor already. tenma didn’t answer right away, resting his face against the window pane on his folded arms as he blew a strand of hair out of his face

“i don’t know, my parents want me to become a famous actor.” tenma sighed and you laughed, nudging him slightly with your elbow

“you’re already famous, ten! that’s why i call you ten, because you’re a 10/10 in every review!” you brought up again as tenma laughed with you, finding the whole situation funny for no reason

“yeah, but an even bigger actor. i’m gonna win best lead actor in every country.” tenma huffed, puffing his chest out like he was those big hotshot teen “heart–throb” actors while flexing his non–existent muscles

“and i’m gonna win every music award show trophy!” you added and tenma nodded, like he was so sure these were your fates. like nothing could change, like it was a matter of fact

“you will...” tenma trailed off, suddenly thinking about something. before you could ask, he fully turned his body towards you as he grinned, holding his pinky out

“but really, once you get that stadium, imma be front row and center!” tenma promised and you looped your finger around his, believing in him 100%

“no, you’ll be backstage! or better yet, on stage with me!” you fantasized as you two dreamily imagined it, shaking your pinkies before letting go with a secret promise you could never break

“we should spit shake.” tenma spat in his hand as you shrieked, ranting about how gross he was as he chased after you like every annoying little boy did. your laughter faded in your memory as you remembered the promise you and tenma made that day

“ten, it’s my first stadium show.” you whispered under your breath, not noticing the sunset outside the practice room

tenma sometimes wondered what would’ve happened if he ended up in a band with you. by no means was he idol material, but at night, he liked to lay down and stare at the ceiling, in the same position whenever he needed to cool down after practice

he had forgotten your name at this point, overwhelmed and exhausted from his acting career and lack of childhood that he had to skip over. from the scarce memories of his youth, all he could distinguish between the blurs was your face grinning happily at him as you jumped in the air with your guitar

(and something about how rough your hands were against his own)

all tenma knew was that he wanted to be on stage with you, and his younger self would’ve done anything to do so

tenma continued acting, forgetting all about his dream to be in a two–man band with you and kept his roles to the camera, skyrocketing into fame faster than anyone before him and staying in the limelight

in a way, both of you had accomplished your dream, just not together

tenma had joined mankai company, to the shock of every media outlet ever. the starlet had overcome his fear of making mistakes, he remembered clearly before he went onto the theatre stage for water me! the first time, a young voice echoed in his ears

“that’s what’s so exciting about the stage, ten. every time i go out there, i’m always gonna do my best! i’m gonna be the best performer on the whole entire planet!”

tenma remembered seeing your face clearly for the first time in a while, remembering every detail of your childhood self as he bunched his two hands into fists, staring at the spotlight upon the stage with the same determination he had when you two became friends

“i’m going to do my best.” tenma said and the rest was left on the stage until closing night

adjusting to mankai was a process. growing up with no true friends, both in school and in the entertainment industry, had surprisingly taken a toll on his behavior without him realizing it. to mankai, he wasn’t the famous star tenma, he was just the really not–put–together teen who wanted to take care of his bonsai in peace

so this is what having friends is like, tenma once thought as he glanced upon the entourage. it was the last time he truly remembered your friendship before he moved on, hoping one day he’d see you someday again

it wasn’t until he happened upon kazunari and misumi’s hanging out session that he was struck with memory of your name

the two were excitedly talking to one another, kazunari rapidly tapping on his phone screen and holding it up to misumi’s attentive face. tenma was about to walk away from the everyday meet–up before kazunari hyped up some group, letting a music video blast from his speaker

over the exaggerated “wow~ that’s a triangle!”, tenma stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a strong, enthusiastic voice belt out a familiar lyric. tenma jumped over to kazunari on the sofa, grabbing both his shoulders with desperation. misumi even paused the video to stare at tenma with shock

“who’s singing this?!” tenma rushed out as kazunari just grinned, finding nothing wrong with being trampled by his troupe leader

“ah! tenten~ are you interested, too?! it’s NATSU-mmer, i was thinking to ask them to sing our next play theme!” kazunari joked before misumi tugged him out of tenma’s grip. as the two went back to watching, tenma repeated the band name multiple times before running to his room and slamming the door

“what the hell do you—” yuki started, looking up from his sewing machine before tenma threw himself onto his bed, fumbling for his phone as he began typing something. tenma paused, zooming in on a group photo before dropping his phone

“THAT’S MY FRIEND!” tenma yelled, swiping through the photos as he finally recognized your name. it was you, the guitarist soloist back in elementary who was his first friend. you had done it, you actually became a full blown band leader who was rising in popularity. he was right in not questioning your dreams

yuki leaned his chair back to sneak a glance at the screen, furrowing his eyebrows as he stared at tenma with disbelief

saying your name, yuki scoffed as he crossed his arms, “the lead vocal of NATSU-mmer, one of the most popular bands in japan right now, is your friend? yeah, right.”

tenma furiously shook his head, sitting up and launching into the full story he didn’t even know he remembered about how you were his bandmate in elementary. yuki barely listened, but got the gist of the tale as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh

“you’re telling me... you grew up with NATSU-mmer’s powerhouse vocalist... and you didn’t even know?!”

tenma sheepishly kicked at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward laugh

“maybe?”

(tenma yelped when yuki threw a pillow at his dumb face with perfect aim)

turns out, everyone in mankai had either known of NATSU-mmer or were huge fans, there was no in between. most of the high schoolers actively followed your band account across multiple platforms, gushing about your performances and how you were a fresh group that came from nothing

the university students knew an album or two, the adults mainly had an idea, and matsukawa even sang along to their songs this entire time! tenma was the last person to find out who your group even was (he was out of the loop all the time)

now that he knew, he was becoming aware of how prominent you had always been in his life. yuki took fashion inspiration from your stage outfits for the plays (they were as spectacular as he remembered imagining them), kazunari kept repeating your title tracks during breaks at practice to keep the mood up (tenma stopped telling him to turn it off), muku’s favorite anime he watched at night had an ost sang by you (tenma listened to it every night through the walls), misumi even pointed out the five people in your band formed a triangle when you all did a group photo (tenma guessed he was onto something, he noticed you were always at the center)

it was like you were still his friend, after all this time, still apart of his life despite the distance

because of this, tenma remained your biggest fan of all time. at first, he intended to follow your music casually, but after going down a rabbit hole of videos (such as interviews, streamed concerts/events, even fan–edited videos of your cute/funny moments or “meet NATSU-mmer” style of “crack edits”), tenma would consider himself a proud “sunflower”

(it was ironic that was your fanbase’s name, because he called you that after you got your first official guitar and you two painted sunflowers on the surface. in a way, he stayed in your life too, since you were both each other’s sunflower and sunshine)

tenma even made a stan twitter account for you! he made it with no intention to dm other sunflowers, but he turned on notifications for your band’s sns and replied to your posts with encouraging messages and reminders to take care of yourself

(he became known in the fandom as “ten”, the sunflower who was practically in love with you) (his icon was always you)

(tenma even bought merch with his own money. yes, he had a jersey with your birth year and last name, tenma admitted from his “early stan” days) (his home screen was a hq fansite picture of you holding a microphone towards the camera, as if you were still inviting him to sing along after all these years)

(he also somehow got roped into downloading your beat rhythm game, knowing you probably crushed all the levels as he struggled with beginner’s) (he got distracted by your voice singing in the background)

(one time, you had a live ig q&a and when you answered his question by saying his username “summerten”, he nearly fell over from excitement) (yuki had to kick him to shut tenma up with his internal freak–out)

tenma’s favorite thing to do as a stan was to watch your performances as if he was there. he had bought your group’s lightstick (a sunflower with spinning petals, how cute!), shaking it in front of his laptop screen and posting pictures with the “TT” sad emoticon

(summerten: TT just want to go to a concert so bad ~ 14 likes)

you were the same as you were before back in elementary. you still danced and sang with all the energy in the world, with uncontainable excitement to be doing what you love and your raw honest personality with your fans was admirable. you were open and the perfect idol since you were so passionate and uplifting with your self–produced/written music

you took the stage by storm, acting like it was your own and wildly playing your guitar like it was your last. you still had the same electric smile and sunny happiness, of course you had become famous for being in a band, you were born to be a star

present day, tenma was practicing his lines with the rest of the summer troupe before his phone buzzed in his pocket, making him automatically check it as summer snickered about his obsession with NATSU-mmer (only yuki really knew why as he refused to tell anybody else, just claiming it was teenage boy hormones)

tenma’s face paled and he looked like he was about to pass out. before anyone could ask, tenma sprinted out of the practice room with an urgent stride to his steps

everyone automatically followed him, yelling about how practice wasn’t over as tenma stumbled to his desk, opening his laptop with such determination it was admirable how one–minded he truly was

“why did you run like someone died?!” yuki whacked him over the head but tenma didn’t react, just logged into a ticketing website with intensity

“someone will die if i don’t get tickets to NATSU-mmer’s second anniversary stadium concert!” tenma insisted, memorizing what he was supposed to do as he sat down, biting his nails as he stared at his spot in the queue. oh god

understandably so, no one understood why tenma had to go to the concert so bad (“why doesn’t he just use his connections to get tickets?” “he really loves NATSU-mmer, huh...” “they do form a triangle!” “shut up”). yet, they resigned themselves to this predicament and let tenma end practice early, knowing pulling him away from his screen would make things way worse

sitting around him, the summer troupe kept light conversation as tenma tapped his foot against the floorboards, willing himself to stare straight ahead to react the fastest

i have to keep my promise, tenma thought as he impulsively bought five tickets without warning, all front row and didn’t wince at his bank balance

tenma promised he’d see you front row at your first stadium concert, and on god, he was going to keep it

when the troupe cheered and rambunctiously discussed tenma’s generousity to take them to the concert with him, yuki stood in the back with his arms crossed and eyes watching tenma carefully

“you hack... you still like them, don’t you?” yuki mumbled, not catching anyone’s attention. it didn’t take a genius to piece together the puzzle, he knew you were much more than just tenma’s first childhood friend, but he didn’t say anything else as tenma breathed a sigh of relief at the mercy of the ticket gods

(when tenma tweeted how he was going to the stadium show, his mutuals showered him in congratulations and your official account even liked it) (he keyboard–smashed like the fanboy he was)

while you were preparing for your opening stadium event for the first time in your professional career, tenma was planning the entire trip as best as he could

(yuki felt so bad for him and his very obvious crush that he made him a sunflower headband for the concert, it was so nice tenma almost went in for a hug before yuki smacked him)

the night of the stadium concert, you were sitting backstage dressed in your group’s common bright fun colors as you fiddled with your guitar, playing a tune you hadn’t remembered until recently. you thought of a little boy with orange hair and purple eyes as you stared off into the distance, just nonchalantly playing the song you two had wrote together back then

as you kept strumming, you imagined him sitting front row, cheering you on

(maybe, you shouldn’t have stalked his official sns accounts before going to sleep last night)

you knew it was last second. but for some reason, even if he never heard it, you had to honor your relationship with tenma

in a way, you would have never been here without his friendship, and you wanted to thank him even if he wouldn’t be there

it took a lot of convincing for your solo stage to be moved to last with no backing track whatsoever (your manager was suspicious of what you had up your sleeve, but you promised it wouldn’t hurt your group’s image), but you did it!

your group pestered you obnoxiously about the change, their sibling–esque bond with you as their “parent” making you laugh as you played it off like it was no big deal.

(as you opened a guitar case you hadn’t brought along in a long time, you smiled down at the worn sunflower–painted guitar)

this was your first stadium show and you could only dream of tenma being right beside you

summer troupe arrived at the stadium hours early, but there was already a long line with campers filling the streets (“why are people sleeping outside just to see some cute people?!” “stan culture, man...”)

tenma was excited in line, not even bothered by the length of the wait as he rambled about your group discography to the boys, subconsciously waving around his sign as he pushed up his sunglasses

(how no one recognized his bright orange hair was beyond anyone’s common sense)

when the group made it past security with a few mishaps (muku making himself look like he was highly suspicious by stuttering and kazunari having to come in to save the day with his social media presence) (misumi almost stripping down for no apparent reason) (yuki actually walked like a normal person with nothing to hide), tenma practically ran to his seat like he was a child again

“everyone say NATSU!” kazunari held his phone up for a group selfie, the five making a triangle as he posted it to his story, tagging it with the group hashtag and the location as always

your band member was scrolling through the hashtag with the group account, showing everyone fan pictures and providing over–the–top commentary, as you all sat in a circle waiting for the show to begin

“oh~ it’s that kazu guy! he usually posts stories with our songs!” your band member said, swiping to their most recent story and your eyes widened

was that a shock of orange hair?

you couldn’t have missed it. that had to be tenma, no other fan would just show up with sunglasses front row like he promised before

did he remember you? before you could react, everyone moved onto the next fan and complimented them endlessly, your mind still stuck on that orange hair

it couldn’t have been... but yet, you smiled

at least you could imagine singing to someone for your stage at the end

when the concert began with a strum of your guitar, tenma let out the most excited scream of all time as his voice was drowned out by the rest of the fans. summer troupe side–eyed him but ignored his frantic lightstick waving as they watched the five members of NATSU–mmer rise from the stage in their iconic poses (yours was the same from childhood)

“who’s ready to start this summer off right?!” you shouted into your mic, your voice vibrating the open stadium as the fans cheered in response. tenma was quiet this time, staring up at you with such admiration yuki had to shove him out of it (“don’t be so dumb right now, enjoy the show!” “shut up, i wasn’t staring!” “i didn’t say you were...”)

you guys opened with your debut song, going back to your humble beginnings in the elementary practice room as everyone danced the night away. everyone online was right; streams could never compare to the real thing. tenma didn’t care about being “cool” for once as he jumped up and down

(kazunari definitely got multiple videos of him singing every song word for word at the top of his lungs like his life depended on it) (there’s also a video of him crying to an emotional ballad song, just full sobbing as muku awkwardly patted his back while worriedly glancing at the camera)

(“it’s so sad...” tenma sniffled as yuki practically shoved his own hands into his mouth, trying not to laugh for once)

the event passed in a flash, your stamina crazy high as you didn’t even seem tired. you looked more alive than ever, especially when you began giving your final speech of the night as NATSU-mmer’s leader

“hi, sunflowers!” you giggled, the fans awww–ing in unison and tenma was staring at you like you were the sun. he was right, you were so bright under the spotlight, it was blinding

“thank you so much for coming to our first stadium show.” you bowed and tenma noticed your hand was shaking around the mic. he was worried, were you okay?

“actually, this is very special to me, not because it’s a stadium, but because you’re all here to share it with me~” you cutely said, laughing when everyone cooed. you kept going, all the attention on you as the background musicians began filing out backstage. murmurs filled the stadium, what was going on?

“but also... i made a promise back then, to my very first fan, band mate, and dear friend of mine, someone i’ll call sunshine for now.” you said and yuki’s head snapped to tenma, who was looking at you with a small smile

“he said he’d be front row when i had my stadium show, and...” you trailed off, turning to the summer’s troupe location as the group members excluding yuki and tenma excitedly talked amongst themselves (“oh my god, does NATSU-mmer recognize us?! let’s invite them to our opening night next month!”)

“he is.” you finished, smiling as the tears you kept in glistened under the light. tenma roughly wiped under his eyes, hoping no one noticed as he made eye contact with you for the first time in years

“this is for sunshine, the first song we ever wrote, called sunflower dreams.”

you stepped up and placed the mic on the stand decorated with vines and yellow petals, swinging your guitar around to the front as tenma recognized its sunflower pattern. he knew both your names was signed behind it

“hide all the feelings in your heart, someday the season will go on and change.” you sang, the whole stadium silent with the single spotlight on you. you stood center, like it was the elementary music room again

tenma held his breath, trying not to sing along to avoid the confused looks of his friends. he knew every word, even though it was unreleased. you two worked on the song so hard, it became the only song you two finished to completion

“as i looked at the sky, it was a faraway dream,” you opened your eyes and looked directly at him, like he was still the same shy kid who hid behind the wall just to hear you sing. for a moment, tenma went back to that time like it was just you two again

“we’ll reach that sky someday.” you smiled before you heard your own voice, remembering something about the promise: “no, you’ll be backstage! or better yet, on stage with me!”

without thinking, you quickly grabbed a microphone left on stage and turned it on, tossing it to tenma who didn’t drop it this time

sunmer troupe exchanged wild glances between each other as you went to their side of the stage, holding your hand out with a shaky smile

“you know the rest, right, ten?” you asked, afraid to move back before tenma nodded, not caring about hiding his identity as security let him through

although there were tens of thousands of people, tenma took your hand and felt like you two were back in school together, just practicing like always

(your hand was smoother, but you still had the same callouses from playing guitar)

you started strumming again and it didn’t take any effort before you two bounced off each other like before, singing sunflower dreams like it was just yesterday as fans made the connection sumeragi tenma was on stage

(“oh my god, tenten!!!” kazunari shrieked, recording despite his full phone storage. muku was sparkling, dreamily calling it a manga moment as misumi said something about you being one of tenma’s three happinesses. yuki just smiled, he knew it)

when you two ended the song with your (not so) secret handshake like no time has passed, you and tenma grinned as you two immediately hugged on stage

“ten, i knew you’d remember.” you whispered, and tenma just smiled even bigger as he ignored the crowd’s volume

“i knew you’d become a famous singer and win every single music award. you were born for the stage.” tenma said, and you were blinding under the spotlight

you two accomplished your dream for your childhood selves this time: performing on stage together

[justmarvelwriting]

The Defender

So uh, hi. My names Sinead and I was completly enthralled by @shiningloki 's fic Get on Your Knees and Pray for Me (Please read it, it's a work of art. Warning; Heavy NSFW.) Annnnd I wanted to see this little family again so. Here we go. A fan fic of a fan fic.

CHAPTER 1

Stefan smiled as he peered from the top of his book to watch his parents on their balcony above him secretly. He’d long since grown from his childishness of gagging every time his parents so much as chastely pecked each other on the lips. Now his heart warmed as he watched them both laughing above him. They both deserved the happiness they had that the thought of anything tearing them apart broke Stefans heart a little. They both bore scars, all of which he was fascinated with as a child, small fingers tracing each bumpy outline. He was no longer fascinated by them, but understood why his father bore his so openly and proudly. It was his mother who explained to him quietly that mental scars ran much deeper, and much larger then the physical ones he bore from battle. Those were the ones he was most proud he overcame.

“How does he show them off mama?” He mumbled quietly as she stroked his hair.

“By carrying you on his shoulders every chance he gets.”

He chuckles when he remembers the night his father had finally told him the fairytale. He snorted. Asta gave it that name. Loki had tried to keep a stern look on his face but it broke into a grin even so.

It was told to him the night after he had gotten in….an altercation with another boy his age. The boy had a mouth, and he liked to run off with it.

“Nothing but the spawn of the common Midgardian whore and the Dark Prince who fell from Odin's grace!”

Stefan possessed magic that equaled his fathers at his own age, but instead he went the more satisfactory route.

He had punched him twice. Once for calling his mother, a fully realised Goddess in her own right, a common Midgardian whore. The second, for daring to slander his fathers name with such old cruelties.

“I am Lokison,” he yelled, shoulders straight, “and you will NEVER speak ill of my family again.”

One of his friends had pointed out he failed to punch him for insulting him. But Stefan had grinned, his mouth and nose bloody before dragging himself to his mother’s quarters before she found out through other means. She was attending to Eira, the youngest of his siblings who was only a toddler at the time when she caught sight of him. Her face had paled, and he rushed to explain he was ok, they weren’t in danger. He’d just gotten into a fight. She had chided him softly as she moped his nose and chin, Eira bouncing on his lap as he tried to assist, small hands bouncing gently off his chin. His father had appeared not two minutes after, hawking that Baldyrs son was walking around with a broken, bloody nose.

“About bloody —“ He spun slowly on his heel and faced him with wide eyes.

“He called Mom a common whore and slandered your name.” He straightened his back, looking his father squarely in the eyes, "I don't regret a thing."

He coughed, trying to hide the proud smile that stretched his face, “You know not to be fighting in court.”

When your mother had left him in his room that night, Loki had appeared at the door.

“You know, I did convince her you shouldn’t be punished too harshly. You showed restraint after all. You could have used your magic.” he still fought a smile, a rapidly losing battle.

“Thor is very proud of me, apparently, by the way.” he grinned, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

That made his father unravel into fits of laughter, clutching his side. He snickered also, but it made him wince with his nose.

Loki had sighed, smiling as he sat on the bottom of his bed, and had launched into the tale.

“So truly I can’t really tell you off for defending your family's honour, I did take 5 bullets for your mother after all.” He finished smoothly, smirking at Stefans expression.

“Dad, you didn’t just take 5 bullets you literally took on bloody Odin himself!”

“With your grandmother, uncle and mother in tow.” He warned him, expression serious, “If you take anything from this my dearest Stefan please let it be that you can rely on your family. I am only ever,” he tapped his necklace, “one call away.”

“Stefan!” The present dragged him back to reality and he raised his hand waving to Alex to join him.

Two boys, him and Eira. Two girls, Asta and Eva. And then Alex, his sibling. Five plus Mom and Dad made the perfect storm for the Lokison name.

Alex's cheeks were flushed as they barreled into the chair beside him, slicking back long, inky hair once they caught their breath. Eira was the youngest, still only a child but soon a teen, then Alex, Eva, Asta and himself. Eva was his mother, but smaller, and Alex was similar, but for the inky black hair the rest of the family inherited.

"Uncle Thor had to leave the sparring match early," they explain as Stefan checks his watch, a frown settling over their face, "He was in such a hurry, it was kind of unsettling actually."

Stefan waved his hand, both acting as a dismissive gesture and that to vanish his book, "The nine realms have never known such peace. Don't worry. A diplomatic hiccup, not much more. The realms have never trusted each other more. How could they not? Mother is in charge of that after all." Stefan grinned and Alex relented, grinning up at their parents with a similar adoration on their face that Stefan showed quietly moments before.

"Maybe it's trouble down on Midgard." Stefan mused quietly, "The Avengers perhaps?"

Alex hummed quietly, basking in the late evening sun.

//--//--//

Loki smiles, wrapping arms around your waist as you both look down at two of your children talking quietly in the garden, hands flying animatedly as they throw arguments back and forth.

"I think we did an amazing job my love." he mutters quietly as he watches them both spring to their feet with a laugh that echoes the courtyard, Stefan summoning wooden swords for them to spar harmlessly with.

"I think we did." you smile and you mentally capture this moment in your mind forever. You'd have to paint it, actually. Your hall of art had changed over the years, reflecting your growing family. But by far Loki's favourite was the one at the very end, the huge canvas of your family all together. It would need to be redone, once Eira became a man in his own right, of course. But for now, it captured your family perfectly. You toyed with your necklace, watching thoughtfully as Stefans and Alex's chains glow with your grass green magic for a moment before they fade back to their deep emerald green once more. You felt so peaceful, but something didn't feel right, not in your gut.

"What troubles you, my pet?" Loki purrs and your eyes flutter closed as he places soft kisses all along your throat, hands gripping your waist tighter.

"Something doesn't feel right…" you murmur, sighing softly as the warmth of his lips leave their position. Loki hums softly, dragging you back into your chambers.

"We are all safe." he reassures you quietly, pressing a hand to your chest, "And if anything happens… we will know."

You nod but sigh anyway. Loki chuckles, pressing you against the wall, "My little Goddess… always so attentive to her tasks."

His voice dips and your worry flees your mind as his hand goes up to grip your throat, "I have many tasks I could focus your attention on… your lips around my cock… my hand beating your ass red."

You whimper quietly, but just as Loki is about to speak, his eyes flashing dangerously, there's a knock on the door. Loki growls, only detaching himself slightly before clearing his throat.

"Yes?"

"Prince Loki, your brother requests your presence in the throne room immediately. There's an urgent diplomatic matter he wishes you to aid him in."

Loki sighs and presses his forehead to yours.

"Tell brother dearest I'm coming."

"Later." he promises quietly, smiling and pressing a single finger to your lips. You smile and resist the urge to take it into your mouth.

You smooth your hair and peer out the window. Stefan and Alex are hugging each other tightly, before Alex pushes him away playfully. Stefan notices you and waves up, a wide smile on his face. You blow a kiss and he laughs, a note appearing before you, floating into your hand.

Love you too Mom xx

You sigh dramatically. A carbon copy of his father. The only thing separating them was Stefan's short hair.

You exit your chambers, old habits dying slowly of kissing each of the children goodnight.

---///---///

It's late when Stefan wakes, darkness still cloaking his room and he frowns. He's an unusually heavy sleeper, and is often made fun of when he emerges late from his room in the early hours of the evening.

His curtains flutter and his heart beats loudly in his chest. He closed his balcony door before he went to bed. And locked it.

Quietly, he summons a dagger and swings his feet out of bed. He scans his room, concealing his dagger with his magic, but his hand is shaking. He closes his eyes and focuses on the necklace at his throat.

"Dad, come quietly, quickly. I think there's someone in my room."

The response is almost instantaneous, but the only indication to him is the dip in his bed.

"Stand, pretend to head for the bathroom, keep your dagger hidden."

He felt his father's hand at the back of his neck, squeezing him gently, "You're safe, my son. No harm will come to you."

Stefan stands lazily, heading to his bathroom, eyes darting around as he fakes a yawn, running his fingers through his hair.

A figure leaps from the darkness and he growls, dropping into a roll, the attacker leaping into a crumpled heap before they both leap to their feet. The attacker lunges, but he is caught by his throat, his father revealing himself in a flash of brilliant green light. The fury on his father's face is nothing Stefan has ever seen before, cold hard lines and his eyes practically glow in the dark room.

"Well done my boy." Loki grins at him as Stefan leans heavily on his door frame hand to his chest. Then his heart stops.

"The others!" he lets his dagger clatter to the floor and practically flies out of the door, sword fitting in his palm easily. He practically kicks down the door of each of his siblings in turn, flooding the room with light, before stumbling back out. Asta practically leaps out of bed when he wakes her, the panic on his face telling her everything she needs to know. He flicks her a dagger and they both sprint towards Alex's room, feet impossibly loud on the marble floor. Stefan grits his feet and Alex's door practically flies off its hinges.

Just in time to see someone leap off his balcony ledge, Alex draped over their shoulders like a sack of bricks.

"ALEX." Astas scream pierces the air but Stefan leaps off the balcony like a deranged man, landing impossibly lightly before taking off at a breakneck speed. The attacker weaves in and out of the maze of hedges trying to lose him, but a cold smile graces Stefans face. He's been running in these gardens since he was a child, he knows every pocket like the back of his hand.

"Stop!" He bellows as they reach the edge of Asgard, the attacker not turning to face him, "I am Stefan of Asgard, Son of Loki and you will release my sibling immediately."

The attacker turns slowly. But Stefan can only see his thin smile.

"No."

And he falls backwards.

[halfbloodglader]

And Yet (Minho)

Minho x ACE! reader -1,700 words

because we love a best friendo Minho :)

The rain had started and in no time soon was it going to disappear. Every single one of the Gladers was quick to fight against time and pack up any last bits of their work before they became saturated. Minho, however, rest quite contently with his legs up in his hammock. He’d been back from the maze for a while now having decided to turn back around noon after seeing clouds building overhead. Chuckling to himself, he leaned back and put his arms behind his head, letting his mind slip off to whatever dimension it pleased. 

Today, that just happened to be his running partner. That seemed to be a pretty common topic for his brain to latch onto as of lately. Anytime he had the slightest moment of silence, she filled his mind and there was no way of shaking it. Minho was fairly self-aware and knew it wasn’t because he was infatuated or in love with his best friend. His understanding of their relationship didn’t stop the invasive thoughts, though. As of late, he’d just been blaming it on the fact that he spent most of every day with her and he cared deeply for his friend. 

If you cared enough about someone, of course they’d be on your mind all the time.

“Where’s Y/N?” Newt broke Minho’s daydream like a glacier shifting, his face far too close and the overgrown mop of blonde hair shrouding his eyes. “It’s almost dinner, go find her would you?”

Minho recoiled when Newt smacked his shoulder impatiently. The runner scowled and sat himself up with a huff. “Ah, I guess I could do that. How much you gonna pay me?”

Still frustrated, Newt kicked Minho’s feet which now hung out from his hammock. “Nothing, Minho! She’s your friend too and I’ve got other things to deal with right now!” He threw his arms up in the direction of the homestead, the doorway crammed with boys trying to escape the sudden deluge. 

“Sheesh, apparently not even time for a joke.” Minho chuckled and stood up, patting Newt’s shoulder. “Don’t worry man, I’ll find her.”

“Good, get your lazy butt out of here!” Newt, for some reason, yet again tried to kick at Minho as he jogged off. 

As quickly as he could, Minho darted for the deadheads in order to take cover under the trees. It really was a no-brainer surrounding the case of the missing Y/N. She’d be in the maproom. She was a runner, liked quiet places where she could be alone and was possibly even more invested than Minho in finding a way out. 

Somedays, Minho felt sorry for her. She was the only girl here. Even though she did just find holding her own and got on well with everyone, she was still stuck in a stone box with fifty boys. It couldn’t be easy. There truly was no question as to what factors might have played into her becoming a runner. 

Other days, he was so glad she was here and was the only girl. No matter what, her opinion was valued above anyone else's. Frankly, she always had the best ideas, too. She cared for everyone and was the ears ready to receive at a moments notice when someone needed a place to mail their worries off to. In no way would this place be the same if she wasn’t here. And of all the girls in the world, she was probably the best of them all to be placed here the Glade. One, because she was very easygoing and had the attitude of one of the boys. Secondly, she had never shown interest in anyone here and had no problem kindly declining romantic advances. 

Just as he expected, opening up the maproom door, there was Y/N, half reclined against the wall. Some papers in her hands and feet every so slowly sliding away from her body on the loose-dirt floor. Quietly, Minho approached without her noticing and put his foot out to stop her feet from sliding anymore. Noticing the sudden halt of her feet, she lowered the papers and looked up to see Minho with a classic smirk carved deep into his face. 

“Newt send you?” Y/N asked, shifting her position so she was sitting up against the wall straighter, disregarding the papers. 

Minho tilt his head in question and sat across from her on the floor. “Yeah…how’d you know?”

Y/N stifled a little laugh and rolled her eyes. “He comes looking for me everyday before dinner. He must be busy with this storm though.”

“Oh my god, he’s busy alright.” Minho complained. “He kicked me, twice!”

“Wow!” Y/N gasped very animatedly, as if pretending to be shocked. “Two kicks? He must be super stressed!”

Minho broke into laughter and so did Y/N. They sat gasping for breath for a little while before finally collecting themselves and standing up. 

“So,” Minho went and opened the door. “Want to head back to the homestead and grab some dinner?”

“Yeah, sure.” Y/N agreed, putting on her shoes and bracing herself for the cold rain. She cheerily smiled up at Minho as she scrunched her shoulders up, ready to be hit with the cold.

“It’s not too bad,” Minho pushed Y/N out of the door haphazardly and followed behind her. “Especially if you run!” He blew past the girl, breaking into a sprint.

Minho hardly beat her there. 

“Finally,” Newt grumbled as he ushered the pair into the homestead and hurried to shut the door, preventing as much rain from pelting in as possible. “I thought you two got swept away in a flood or something as equally ridiculous.”

“Now that would have been interesting,” Minho nodded in amusement, pursing his lips and then looking to Y/N and trying to not break out in laughter. Newt was sure in a mood today.

“Go get your bloody dinners and head off to bed.” Newt ordered. “Because the sooner you do, the sooner I can get to bed. And I swear, if you two cause a ruckus I’ll—“

“We got it, Newt.” Y/N assured. “I’ll make sure Minho doesn’t burn the place down.”

“Good that.” He thanked the girl and let out a sigh of relief as he walked off. 

Snickering, Y/N and Minho got their meals and ate with a few of the other boys. After a while of talking, everyone decided it was time to pack it in and so Y/N and Minho said their goodnights before heading upstairs to his room. Many, many nights had the pair spent in here on rainy nights just sitting on the floor, talking about anything and everything. 

Just as usual, they situated themselves on the floor, staring out the window, talking about whatever first popped into their heads. Nights like these, they didn’t talk about the maze. When storms rolled in, it was their time to forget the world and all of their heavy burdens. It was their time to be the young people they truly were. 

After endless questions and horrible topics of discussion, Minho felt the allure of sleep enticing him. However, there had been one untouched topic that had been weighing on his mind for the past few hours. Granted, he’d been curious about it for a long time, but he’d never been itching this bad to actually find out.

“Okay, you don’t have to answer this question, and I might be stepping over some major boundaries here.” Minho suddenly seemed much more awake. “But…”

“Minho, it’s fine.” Y/N assured.

The keeper of the runners felt his confidence wavering. “I guess I’m confused about…well, I’ve never been able to understand…Understand why you aren’t with anyone. As in…”

"I know what you mean,” She stopped him before he had to further embarrass himself trying to find the right words to explain what he was thinking.

“There’s so many people here who would be with you in the blink of an eye given the chance. There’s no shortage of people who like you.” He said sternly, trying to catch her eyes in the dim light. “And yet…? You choose to be alone?”

Y/N was silent. Minho feared he’d hurt her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought this up—“ Panicked, he tried to trace his steps back.

Y/N then shrugged and spoke softly. “I’m not alone though, I have all of you. I choose to not be with anyone like that because I don’t feel the need to. I don’t want to. It just isn’t an interest to me. As far as I can remember, it never has been.”

In the dark room, only slightly illuminated by the sheet lighting outside, Minho reached out and threw his arms over the shoulders of his friend. Y/N’s arms fell under his and she rest her head in the crook of his neck. They embraced one another tightly. Minho squeezed so hard his arms began to seize and Y/N felt how much he cared right deep in her chest. She cared just as much back.

Love came in so many different forms, especially here in the Glade. One could be more than happy and have a life full of intimacy without needing to fall into a relationship like most people expected. Some types of love didn’t need a label or to be explained. They simply had to be felt.

Minho did love her, in a way. And, now, he figured she loved him back just as well. 

“Thank you for being such a good friend, Minho.” The girl gave Minho one last tight embrace before letting go. 

Minho left his hands on her shoulders as she sat across from him. He smiled. “Thank you for being the best running partner I’ve ever had.” 

Y/N looked shocked, but in a playful way. “You…did you just say something nice?”

“Aye!” He snapped. “You caught me in a tender moment! It’s between us! Only us!”

[katherinewilliams221b]

For A Greater Good 8/18

gif not mine just the text

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7]

--

It was a busy night; full of nightmares and scares. Flavia Hodges didn’t sleep a wink all night, and consequently, neither did Kate. Around four o’clock in the morning, she fell into the bed next to the teacher’s, only to be woken up two hours later.

Cassandra Steiner shook the young healer’s shoulder until she opened her eyes. As if a rock were strapped to her chest, Kate slowly stood up and put her palm to one eye to get the sleep away.

“Have you spent the night here?” She only answered Cassandra with a nod and looked up to see that Professor Hodges was still sleeping.

“I couldn’t leave. She had nightmares all night, screaming, keeping us all awake. She said she didn’t want to teach anymore, she was quitting, and she’d tell the headmistress today.”

Cassandra tapped her fingers on her thigh. “Anything else?”

Kate looked down, “No.” Steiner nodded before leaving her side.

She decided not to comment that she thought Flavia was trying to pronounce Karkarov’s name, keeping the information for Astrid Rhode.

“I don’t want to give her more calming draught,” Kate began as she stood up, “I’m worried that...”

When she reached Flavia’s side, she removed some silver curls from in front of her ear and came over to inspect her neck. She pressed her eyes tightly, still struggling to keep them open, and looked again.

“Miss Steiner?” She said over her shoulder. Cassandra returned to her side with an almost exasperated look.

“Now what’s going on?”

“Look at this mark. It’s a bruise, but look closer.” Kate stepped aside to make room for her, and the mediwizard ducked to her level.

“It’s like a little hole. From a puncture...” Cassandra hummed, and after checking that she had no more marks, she got up to talk to Kate.

“Well, this is the ultimate proof: it was intentional and someone tried to kill her.”

“The foam coming out of her mouth didn’t convince you?” Steiner threw a fake smile at the comment, not too pleased with the sarcasm.

“You know what? Take the rest of the day off. And tomorrow, too. Come back on Monday.”

Of all the things Kate expected for her to say, that wasn’t one of them. Steiner kept talking but only heard that she was also giving another mediwizard a day off.

“If you leave now, you’ll get to breakfast before the kids.” With that, Cassandra turned around and set about ordering some untagged bottles.

Kate stood and watched Cassandra before slowly walking to the door. With one last look and a wrinkle between her eyebrows, she left the hospital wing and, without bothering to go through the dining room, decided to go straight up to her room.

She skipped lunch, too, having slept through the afternoon; she saw no daylight that Saturday because when she woke up, storm clouds were stalking the castle, leaving everything in darkness.

The respite Cassandra gave her, apart from being confusing and somewhat suspicious, also proved to be very convenient; Kate took advantage of that afternoon to recover her strength, which was rapidly beginning to run out.

She escaped to the kitchens without being seen, read the first of the stories in Corentin’s book, put her notes in order in her notebook, and was able to enjoy an afternoon without those bulky uniform skirts, sighing with relief when she could dress up in Charlie’s T-shirt and simple jeans.

She had also taken the opportunity to visit headmistress Rhode’s office, but she had left in a hurry to her class. She said that if she wanted to talk to her, she should go the next afternoon.

When her eyes got tired of reading in the dim light of her candle, she put her cape on the desk and placed the book and notebook right on top. With a quill, she traced part of the outline of the objects on the cloth and while looking at the parchment Corentin had written; she spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining herself with a needle.

 The next day, rested but not quite composed, Kate evaluated her options. She put her uniform back on, and with her new pockets sewn into her cloak, she armed herself with her notebook and book and set off on her adventure.

After breakfast, she walked through the halls, stopping to ask where the herbology class was being held, and after several confusing and contradictory directions, she left the castle.

The storm that finally decided to fall the night before had left the skies clear and cold, and Kate was grateful for the magical properties of her uniform that kept her from freezing.

She stopped short when she realised where she had ended up around the corner. The outer corridor where Corentin showed her the mark of Grindelwald. Only this time, she appeared at the other end.

With her head tilted to her right, she looked for the number 82 plaque that indicated the herbology classroom. It didn’t take long to find it, and when she arrived, she turned to look around.

There were few people outside. From where she stood she could clearly see the column with the mark, the quidditch field in the distance, and part of one of the lakes surrounding the castle.

The door was open, and she ventured inside with a determined step.

She was not sure what she expected to find. It had a blackboard that occupied an entire wall, a desk with a pile of books on it, and student desks that were facing it.

She went over to the desk and started opening drawers. A quill and several scrolls were all she found.

Then she inspected the books, the same ones Flavia had dropped that fateful day. She opened the one on top of the pile.

She could not resist raising her eyebrows at the innocent, and in her opinion, boring contents. She remembered the lessons with Professor Sprout and how they spent the days with their hands buried in pots.

“Do they learn anything from this? It doesn’t even have enough drawings,” she said under her breath and immediately chuckled as he imagined Corentin excited by some good illustrations.

She closed the book and sighed thoughtfully. There was no indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

“Let’s see,” she began moving to the board. She raised one arm and pretended to write. “I am Flavia Hodges, professor of herbology. I’m in my boring class, with no... posters or pictures, with my boring books and my bored students.”

She walked over to the desk and picked up all the books and immediately put them back down.

“Okay, you were carrying them with magic, weren’t you? So you should have been concentrated and just thinking about that.” She said to no one.

With a gesture of the wand the books raised in the air and Kate took them to the door, she went out and she continued through the corridor recreating the steps that Flavia must have done.

“There’s no one now, but at the time, I was walking among a wave of students and teachers who come from here to there.”

She looked at the column and switched the books to the side to see it better and went on her way.

“So I keep walking with my books, where am I going? To the library?”

She reached the end of the corridor and saw the stairs leading up to the castle where she and Corentin went.

“I go up those stairs and immediately collapse.” She turned to see the long road she had travelled. “And something happened between the classroom and the stairs. But what?”

She turned again, but she crashed against a firm body. Distracted, all the books fell to the floor.

“Hey! Where are you going in such a hurry?” Kent Jorgensen was standing in front of her with smiling eyes. “Were you going to return the books to Corentin?”

Kate made all the books back into an orderly pile as she thought about how to answer.

“Yes. Yes, exactly.” Jorgensen nodded.

“It’s very kind of you to help Flavia with everything that’s happening to her. Cassandra told me that you took the day off today and since I found you, perhaps you would like to join me,” he nodded towards the quidditch field.

“Today is game day, quite an experience.”

“Better not. I must take these books and... I don’t want to leave Professor Hodges alone. I know it’s my day off, but...”

“Nonsense. You deserve a break, and Cassandra can handle herself. So do these books.” He shook his wand and the mountain of copies rose in the air and made their way to the stairs; the door opened, and they disappeared inside the castle.

“Come on, you’ll have fun.” He said as he started to walk.

Kate sighed and followed in his footsteps, thinking that attending one, and only one, of the games would be enough to fulfil the promise she had made to Charlie and thus answer any questions he might have.

They walked together in silence, only accompanied by the sounds of screams and laughter that became more and more audible.

“No wonder there’s no one in the castle, everyone’s here.” Kate said as she arrived at the field.

“Oh, yes, we take it very seriously. First-year students are training now, but then the real game starts.”

A man with deep brown skin and the roundest eyes Kate’s ever seen, was in the middle of the field and when they were spotted, he raised his hand to greet them in their direction with a big smile.

Jorgensen reciprocated both the greeting and the joyous expression.

“That’s Sheyi Mawut, the coach, the best one!” He corrected, “He played for the Tchamba Charmers, do you know the team?”

“Yes, my b... yes, I’ve heard about them.” She cut the sentence before she could mention Charlie, and luckily the teacher was so engrossed in watching the man that he ignored it completely.

“Why don’t you find a seat, I’ll say hi to Sheyi.” Jorgensen said without looking at her, and started off on his way to center field.

Kate watched as the two chatted animatedly, patting each other on the back and laughing together.

 While climbing the stairs she dodged several boys and girls until she finally found a free place in the last row.

It was hard to think that the calm and wise looking Professor Jorgensen would have behaved so irrationally; accusing Libor Marek of stealing his ingredients. If it was true, Kate didn’t know.

At all times, she had to be reminded that everyone, including her, played a part in the plot she was in and no one was who they said they were.

She was about to close the book after reading the last word, when she heard a voice beside her.

Taking advantage of the sun and the wait, Kate reached into her cape and pulled out the Tales of Beedle the Bard, opening it for the second story: The Fountain of Good Fortune.

“Excuse me, you’re the healer who treated Professor Hodges, right?”

Kate looked up and found a blonde girl whose face was familiar. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“My name is Vic. You asked me for help when she was poisoned...”

“Yes, it’s true. Can I help you? Are you all right?” Vic shook her hands and her head.

“It’s not that, it’s just...” She sat down next to her and kept whispering, “I thought I should tell you that Professor Hodges didn’t accidentally fall down the stairs.”

Kate slammed the book shut and leaned over. “She didn’t?”

“I didn’t see it, but my best friend told me she saw the main staircase turn into a slide and then disappear.” She paused before adding, “In other circumstances I would have thought it was silly, but...”

“I understand. Thanks for telling me.”

“I really don’t understand. Why would anyone want to hurt Hodges? The only enemies she can have are her 15 students... if you can call them enemies…”

“Only fifteen?” Kate asked in surprise.

“Yes, herbology is only taught in the first year. Then it is an elective, but generally no one is interested. Popular lessons are Dark arts; with Rhode, advanced duelling and potions.”

“Yes, I know that...”

More and more people gathered in the seats in the stands as the centre of the camp was cleared. Coach Mawut, in his black and gold robes, flew in surfing style, picking up the quaffles that had been in use.

“The game is about to begin; The Screeching Eagles vs. the White Manticores, it will be exciting! No one has a chance in winter against the Manticores. By the way, I went to return Professor Hodges’ glasses.”

“I know. I saw them, thank you.” With a smile, Kate and Vic said their goodbyes and watched her go down the stairs looking for a seat next to her friends.

At that moment, Kent Jorgensen returned to her side.

“What a character Sheyi is,” he said with a mischievous smile, “every time I try to watch them practise the reverse pass, they just happen to be over.” He shook his head, still smiling, and didn’t notice Kate slipping the book under her cloak.

In a burst of courage, she thought perhaps she could test the waters with Jorgensen.

“I have been informed that Flavia did not stumble on the stairs.” 

The professor kept looking at the field. He didn’t even change his expression. Though uneasy, his mind was under control.

“Glisseo.” He simply commented, “It’s a spell to turn stairs into ramps. I was there, a small group of students were laughing, I imagine it was a joke gone wrong.”

Kate made no further comment on this and consequently, neither did he.

Sheyi Mawut stood in the centre of the field and introduced the teams, who shot out boasting of their manoeuvres in the air.

Kate calculated that the time she could stand watching a game without Charlie playing was thirty minutes. However, she had to watch the seventh graders circle in front of her for another hour and a half.

The most interesting moment occurred toward the end of the game, where the commentator announced that The White Manticore seeker had gone out in search of the snitch behind the mountains.

She smirked as she understood the all-white uniform of the Manticores and that when they rose higher than their opponents; it was difficult to keep track of them with the characteristic snowy peaks of the area in the background.

Kate sighed with relief when the phrase 250 to 210. The White Manticores win! End of the game. Echoed around.

It took a long time to descend from the stands; the crowd was walking in its own good time and as they waited, Kate took time to admire the views.

She watched from afar as the coach congratulated the champions and spoke animatedly to any student who approached. 

He chatted with a boy, and immediately they both climbed on their broomsticks. Kate looked at the ground to avoid tripping as she went down and missed how the boy went upside down in the air.

Once downstairs, she said goodbye to Jorgensen, but before she could make her way back to the castle, a cry caught his attention.

The boy practicing with Mawut was writhing in pain on the floor, his broom was on the floor and Sheyi kneeled by his side.

Kate shot out in his direction and knelt down beside him.

“He fell on his arm.” Mawut’s tone was calm and comforting. Kate raised the boy’s arm, and he hissed when she gently twisted it.

“It’s just crooked. Luckily it wasn’t very high.”

“How do you know it’s not broken?” asked the boy in a shy voice.

“Because if it was, when I turned it you would have tried to break your broom over my head.” The boy giggled at the comment, and Mawut and Kate exchanged a  smile.

“I’ll bandage it now, but we must go to the hospital wing and get you something for the swelling.” After some bandages appeared in the air and were tied to his arm, Kate looked at him and asked him to stand up when she noticed a purplish shadow next to his eye.

“How did this happen?” He turned his head violently and covered the side of his face.

Mawut and Kate grabbed him by the armpits to help him up. 

“Micael! Come here right now!” All three looked up and the boy’s panicked face didn’t go unnoticed.

Leron Angelov dashed towards them and wrestled with Kate to get Michael out of her grasp.

“What have I told you...?” He angry-whispered. Angelov grabbed him by the ear and pulled him to himself.

“Release him right now, please.” Kate’s tone was sharp and definitive. Angelov ignored her and pushed his son to walk in front of him. Kate chased them across the lawn.

“He must go to the infirmary at once! Professor Angelov!”

Leron turned so violently that Kate’s first reflex was to squeeze her wand and aim it at him without lifting her wrist from her hip.

“You decide nothing. Mind your own business.” He marched behind his son and they grew smaller as they walked away towards the castle.

A reassuring hand rested on her shoulder and tapped several times. Mawut smiled empathetically and set about collecting the brooms that had been left behind.

 After forcing herself to eat a sandwich at lunchtime, Kate tried to talk to Rhode again.

So far, everything seemed normal; the students were agitated about the exams that were just around the corner, but not about any intruder or unwelcome presence.

And the teachers... she couldn’t say anything about it. The truth was that she had had too little contact with them to draw any conclusions. She wasn’t sure that their being calm was a good sign.

“We need to talk.” Rhode announced from her chair when she saw Kate come in.

“I agree...”

“Me first, if you don’t mind.” She shifted in his seat and put her arms over the desk while Kate sat on the other side. She handed her a scroll to look at.

“This is the resignation of Flavia Hodges. She signed it a few hours ago and I’ve already stamped it.”

Kate looked at the document and then at Astrid, waiting for the next sentence.

“In view of the murder attempts she’s been suffering, I think this is the best option.”

“I think she meant to tell me it was Igor Karkarov.” She left the scroll on the table and waited for the headmistress’ reaction.

“Karkarov?” Her eyebrows immediately raised, and she interlocked her fingers in front of her.

Kate shrugged and shook her head. “I suggest increasing the security of the castle. Someone called the British Ministry for him, probably Hodges.”

“She would have warned me...” she thought for a few seconds and with a sharp inhalation continued, “Besides, that Ministry employee came before the attacks on Flavia began.”

“But what if he’s here? I mean, Karkarov arrives, someone sees him and warns the Ministry to come and get him, but he can’t find him and the man is still in the castle.”

Rhode opened one of her drawers and pulled out a blank parchment sheet.

“I’m going to write to Albus. I refuse bringing any more people from the Ministry into my school. Hodges will be transferred in a week or two, after which we’ll put guards on it if necessary.”

“I don’t think it’s right to leave Hodges alone if someone wants to kill her...”

“Until the time of her departure, she will be accompanied at all times. Now, I must wait for Dumbledore’s advice and in that time find a new herbology professor. If possible, by tomorrow.”

Kate sighed and got up from her seat. Understanding that the director could not give her any advice on how to proceed, or act on Voldemort’s alleged mole, she went to the door to let her work.

She was about to turn the knob when an idea was planted in her brain. And it took root. It would be hard to get rid of that plan.

Too irrational. Too risky.

But maybe...

Kate turned around and asked,

“Why does Flavia Hodges have her students’ textbooks?” Astrid looked at her curiously.

“All subjects have copies of the books for those students who don’t want or can’t afford them. Usually only students from wealthier families buy them.”

Kate hummed and slid back into the chair. “I need to get closer to the teachers and... you can say no, but...”

“What do you propose?”

“To be the new Herbology teacher.”

--

[Part 9]

A/N It just occurred to me that if you want to be tagged I can start a tag list, just say it and it’s done <3

[znaeb]

The Alibi | N.M.

Part 1

The third ‘no’ in two days was the final straw.

She had applied to several places in the past month and most of them hadn’t even responded yet, so when another firm turned her down it was looking like a part time job was inevitable. She really needed to make her rent on time this month.

Pulling out her phone she scrolled to the ‘M’ section in her contacts and selected Mom. It rang for a few seconds before she picked up.

“Hey hon, how’s it going?” Her mother chirped through the phone.

“Hey momma, it’s... going. Schnider Fitz and Harper just turned me down.” She sighed, especially sad since they were her first choice.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry.” Her mother cooed through the phone.

Ever since the last law firm she worked for disbanded, she’d been struggling to find work. Their town wasn’t small, but there wasn’t an overwhelming number of options for lawyers as young and inexperienced as she.

“I just need something to help pay the bills. I’m gonna go look around tomorrow.” She said, trying very hard not to sound like she was asking for money.

“You’ll find something, you’re a smart kid.” Her mom’s perpetual optimism came through.

“I just want a full time gig, ma. I hated bouncing from part-time to part-time in college.” She groaned.

“Well honey that’s just part of life sometimes. Do you want me and Jerry to send you some cash for rent?” She internally gagged at the sound of her step father’s name, they’d never gotten along.

She swallowed her pride and accepted her mother’s help, knowing that she would send her the money even if she said no.

They hung up about an hour later, having chatted about everything under the sun and more.

~~~

She’d gotten applications from two restaurants and a few clothing stores. It was a warm evening and she had walked all over looking for help wanted signs, even going as far as going in places without them and asking if they were looking for help.

Her feet were starting to hurt from walking around the downtown area so she ducked into a bar on the corner of 7th and Cherry Street. The Alibi. It was pretty run-down, but then again so was everything on Cherry.

“What can I get for ya?” A guy with curly hair and lots of tattoos manned the bar, his demeanor was cheery and welcoming.

“A pint of the black stuff, please.” She smiled and sat down on one of the old metal bar stools.

She checked her watch and looked around the bar. Eight o’clock. There were about six other patrons, three of them playing a game of pool in the corner, and the rest at a booth on the back wall.

“Here you go.” He set her drink down on the bar and started wiping down glasses with a towel.

“Thank you.” She raised her cup to him slightly and took a drink.

She struck up a conversation and stayed at the bar for quite a while talking to the bartender, who she found out was named Edwin, and forgot about her problems.

“And the heat! What is with the heat in this city? I was outside for like no time and I felt like I was melting!” She spoke animatedly, waving her hands around.

“I know right?” He agreed enthusiastically, “I’ve gone through two air conditioning units since I moved into my apartment, they just can’t keep up with the heat and then they conk out!”

She laughed out loud, having already had one window unit die on her since she moved into her place, “Oh man, why do people live here?”

“The spectacular view. Concrete, cement, and brick.” He laughed and cleaned off the counter a few feet away from her, then easily switched the topic from one thing to another, “Well, anyway, you do look like you’ve had a long day. Been busy?”

She pulled the stack of job applications out of her bag and tossed them down on the bar, “Been walking around town collecting these damn things.”

He picked the top one up and squinted at it for a second, then picked up the next one and did the same thing. After he finished looking through the pile he scoffed and tossed them in a garbage can behind the bar.

“Hey! I need those!” She exclaimed, standing up from her seat and looking between him and the trashed papers.

“No you don’t.” He shook his head, pulling an application from a shelf under the bar and a pen from his apron, he then leaned on his elbows and watched her as she skeptically picked it up.

“I’ve never really worked at a bar before... just restaurants.” she said as she looked over at him, trying to read his face.

“Pfft, it takes literally no skill to walk drinks from the bar to a booth. You could do it in your sleep.” He waved off her concern and stood up straight again, “Besides, my boss is so desperate for some more night help that he’d probably hire anybody.”

“Who’s your boss?” She furrowed her eyebrows, thinking he was the only person here.

“One sec,” he held up his index finger and walked over to a dark green swinging door at the end of the bar, peeking in the little circle window before walking into the back.

She heard muffled talking before Edwin walked back out, followed by another man. He had short dark hair and was wearing a Yankees jersey with a gold chain around his neck and a pair of worn-in blue jeans.

“Name’s Nick.” He stuck his hand out.

“Y/n.” She smiled and shook his hand.

“I think she’d be great.” Edwin said excitedly, patting Nick on the back and looking between the two of them.

“Ed, you just met her.” He said, skepticism obvious in every word.

“I still think she’d be great.” His smile never faultered.

“I’m a fast learner, I’ve worked in restaurants before, and I have a food handlers card.” She spoke quickly and confidently, determined to win him over.

He stood back and crossed his arms, looking at her for a second before sliding the application towards her, “Fill this out so we have it on record. Come in tomorrow evening at seven and we’ll see how you do.”

He said and then walked back into the back room. She noticed he sounded very ‘Jersey’ when he spoke.

“You got the job!” Edwin practically shouted, raising both his hands in the air for a double high five.

She laughed and high fived him, then finished her drink.

~~~

Her nerves made the next day go by extremely fast. She started to get ready early, wanting to make sure she was prepared.

She put on a pair of jeans and a grey v-neck, remembering that Edwin had said to wear plain clothes, then throwing on a pair of dirty white high top Vans.

Walking to the bar was exciting, she couldn’t wait to get started. The sun had set and the sky was barely light as she reached the door, she could hear a crowd of people inside before she even went in.

Walking in she would’ve never known this was the same bar from the night before. Every table was full, the bar had people crowded around the counter, and there was a whole group in the back by the pool table cheering.

“Y/n!” Edwin called from the bar. She looked over just in time to catch the black apron he tossed her way. He pointed to a tray of drinks on the end of the bar, “table five!” He held up five fingers to make sure she heard correctly and then went back to helping the crowd in front of him.

She hurried forward while tying the apron around her waist. Carefully picking up the tray she spun around and looked around the room, never had she been so glad to see table markers.

Right as she started walking forward, Nick darted past her and bumped the tray. The drinks wobbled and the glasses clinked together. She moved the tray strategically with the sway of the glasses, trying to keep them from toppling over.

“Holy shit.” He said, hands outstretched and ready to take the tray.

“I’ve got it.” She held up her left hand to stop him, her right hand underneath the now steady tray.

“You sure?” He asked as he took a step back.

“Definitely.” She said over her shoulder as she hurried to table five.

~~~

Two hours in and she already loved the job.

Working with Edwin was a breeze, and the other bartender, Brandon, was just as awesome. Nick rushed around replacing empty bottles behind the bar, taking payments, and dealing with the especially frustrating customers.

At one am Nick told her that she could head out, but since they were still busy she told him that she’d stay until last call. He didn’t argue.

By the end of the night she had made enough in tips to cover her rent. When the last customers left a little after three am, Nick locked the front door and plopped down into one of the booths to start doing paperwork.

“Toss me that rag, I’m gonna wipe down some tables.” She called over to Brandon. He tossed it to her and went back to cleaning up behind the counter with Ed.

After she finished that she put the chairs up and swept up the dining area, then mopped the small spots where drinks had been spilled.

When the whole place had been cleaned and made ready for opening the next day, she sat down in the booth across from Nick and looked at him expectantly. He stayed focused on his paperwork, pretending not to notice her watching him.

“So?” She said.

He finally looked up and furrowed his eyebrows at her. Sticking his pen behind his ear and crossing his arms over his chest, “So?” He copied.

“You said you’d see how I did, so how’d I do?” She smiled goofily over at him and tilted her head to the side.

The corner of his mouth curved up into a small smile and he shook his head. “You did good, you did good.”

She beamed across the table at him, leaning back in the booth and resting her head against the leathery fabric.

“So I can stick around then?” She asked.

He rolled his eyes and tossed a dry rag at her, “Yeah... you can stick around.”

She smiled again and moved from her side of the booth to his, plopping down next to him and kissing his cheek, “Thanks Nick.” She said softly.

****

Another Nick mini series??? 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ whooooo knoooooowwwwsssss

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (2/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction.

[part 1]

The next Monday, Clarke waited for the deliveries as usual, quietly sipping on coffee while dawn barely made its appearance outside. It was getting colder and darker each week, but the holidays were Clarke's favorite time of the year and they were now fast approaching. She spotted the delivery truck and called out for Wells who came from the kitchen yawning. They were making pumpkin cheesecake today, not Clarke's favorite but one of their first big successes last year. Clarke couldn't believe they had already passed the café's first anniversary.

"Remind me why we do deliveries in the middle of the night on Mondays?" Wells asked while the Croft & Daughters delivery truck pulled up.

Clarke waved at the driver. "Because Niylah's the only one willing to work within our bite-sized budget."

Wells rubbed his eyes. "Right."

"You didn't need to come this early."

"Yes I did. Cheesecake needs to be in the fridge in less than an hour."

"I could've made it."

Wells shook his head. "You suck at anything pumpkin."

"Take that back."

"Morning!" Niylah called out while she opened the back of the truck. Clarke playfully elbowed Wells before approaching her.

Despite his sleepiness, Wells insisted on carrying most of the boxes in while Clarke signed off on Niylah's delivery list. When all business matters were said and done, Clarke offered her a cup of coffee before she hit the road on her usual delivery route. Though it didn't matter how early it was, because Niylah never showed any sign of fatigue. Clarke knew it was ingrained in the Croft family since childhood to be morning creatures.

"Long route today?" She asked while Niylah finished her last sip. Wells had slunk back into the kitchen to get started on the cheesecake and their first batch of croissants. It was by far Clarke's favorite time in the café - when the baking smells would take over just as the sun slowly rose outside. There was nothing like it.

"Not very long," Niylah answered with a shrug. She buttoned up her coat and breathed in deeply when they stepped outside.

Clarke rubbed her arms up and down, feeling a chill. "Look out for the frost."

 "Always." Niylah smiled but made no move to leave. "So…"

Clarke arched a brow, having a good feeling what was coming. "So?"

"The Polis Hotel is having a public event this Friday. Open lounge with drinks and food half-off, some great live music."

"Oh yeah?"

"I was wondering if maybe you'd want to check it out."

"The Polis Hotel, huh? That's pretty swanky."

"I think it might be the only time I'd ever be allowed inside," Niylah agreed.

The Polis Hotel was famously upscale, but the building itself had a long history and Clarke always appreciated its architecture whenever she passed it. It could be interesting to step inside for once.

"To be clear, you are asking me out at the crack of dawn?"

"What better time than a freezing Monday morning after I've delivered your goods?"

"My goods," Clarke repeated with a laugh. "You're a regular charmer."

"We can go someplace else - something casual."

Clarke remembered this game - knew what 'something casual' meant too well. They'd get drinks and get pleasantly buzzed and then she would wake up in Niylah's bed the next morning wondering why they were risking both a friendship and business relationship for something that never led anywhere else. This date would be no different, but Niylah was good company and it felt nice to be wanted, even if it was just for a night once or twice a month.

"No it sounds like fun, let's do it. Let's be swanky."

She ignored the way Niylah smiled, maybe more excited than Clarke had ever noticed before.

* * *

The next day, Clarke was on her short lunch break when she passed an art and supply store and lingered outside. She knew people, mostly students, came here to load up on paints, pencils and canvases, but she'd never given it a second thought before. What she did - passing the time with scribbles - wasn't art. Sure she'd had other dreams in college - and her portfolio was still somewhere in her apartment, though collecting dust bunnies by now - but the café had eaten them up and Clarke wasn't too brokenhearted about it. Dreams changed. It was just nostalgia for powdered pigments beneath her fingernails or charcoal stains on the palm of her hand. Shaking her head, she eventually left.  

She went through the back of the café and took her coat and scarf off in the small storage room by the kitchen. Their part-timer, Harper, was behind the counter taking an order, but there was a bit of an afternoon lull. She noticed that Lexa had come in and that Gaia was standing by her table and talking animatedly. Lexa, with her computer open and a sprawl of papers on the table, seemed to be taking quick notes, sometimes interrupting with a question. Clarke stayed behind the counter and glanced over a few times, curious to know what they were talking about. Eventually Gaia walked back toward the counter.

Clarke gave her a questioning smile. "Everything good?"

"Oh yeah, just had a quick chat about visions," Gaia replied as she took off her apron and went out back, ready for her own break.

Clarke frowned to herself, then grabbed a few of the plates in the sink to wash while Harper made their last customer's latte.  

"Hi, Clarke."

She turned around almost immediately, so surprised by the sound of that voice saying her name. She couldn't remember Lexa ever saying it before.

"Lexa. Hi. Can I get you anything?"

"Oh no, thank you." Lexa toyed with her phone. "This might seem completely out of the blue, but… would you agree to an interview with me?"

"An interview? About what?"

"I'm writing an article on the visions people had in Costial. Trying to find connections. I'm interviewing as many people as possible - all ages, professions, that sort of thing. Have you had one?"

Clarke felt herself panic. She looked away, pretending to look for- something. "Um. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I mean, yes," Clarke stammered, glancing toward the kitchen. "I have."

Lexa stepped closer to the counter, pulling up the calendar on her phone. "Would you be open to talking about it? My schedule's wide open this week, I could drop in-"  

Clarke's heart lurched. "I don't think so," she blurted out.

It felt like an eternity before she heard Lexa exhale, like she'd been holding her breath for a long time before. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," Clarke said, her hand clinging tight to the bottom of her apron.  

Lexa put her phone away. "That's fine."

Lexa looked just as awkward as Clarke felt, clearly embarrassed by the rejection. Clarke didn't know how to make her understand that it would only make both of them incredibly uncomfortable.

"It's just very personal," she tried.

Lexa nodded quickly. "Sure." She looked at her watch and cleared her throat. "Hm, I'll be on my way then. Big deadline this Wednesday."

She gathered her laptop and purse while Clarke thought desperately to think of something to say. Anything, damnit!

"Can I get you a slice of the cheesecake?" She offered. "On the house."

"Maybe another time, but thank you."

Clarke watched Lexa put her papers away in her satchel with the sinking feeling that she was burning down a bridge. She felt both confused and frustrated. Couldn't she have had a vision of herself adopting a dog or sleeping on some beach? At least she would've gotten more out of it than a headache and a number of unanswerable questions. It was lucky Gaia had left before she could overhear. Clarke wasn't certain she'd be able to keep the truth from her or Wells, and she definitely wasn't ready to discuss it.

Lexa put on her blazer and then approached her again. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," she said apologetically.

It surprised Clarke that she even asked. She quickly shook her head. "No, not at all. Like I said, it's just-"

"Please, you don't owe me an explanation," Lexa assured her. "I was excited that Gaia agreed and got ahead of myself."

"I'm really sorry I can't be of any help."

Lexa shrugged, but a thought suddenly occurred to Clarke. She glanced at the cork board they had up on one of the café walls, where customers could pin their flyers.

"You could put up an ad there if you wanted," she told her.

Lexa turned to look at the wall and the various flyers. "I hadn’t thought of that."

Clarke didn't know why she felt so relieved she could finally be helpful to Lexa. "I know it doesn't seem like much but it attracts a lot of eyeballs every day. People really like the theater discounts we put up."

That had been the first deal she'd pulled off with one of the many local theaters. People at the café had incentive to see lesser-known plays at a discounted rate, while people at the theater were given vouchers for a free croissant with the purchase of a cup of coffee. The traffic from the afternoon shows in particular was well worth it, and the partnership had been going on for five months now.

The mention of the theater seemed to pique Lexa's interest. "Oh do- do you go to the theater a lot?"

"Wells, our baker, has season tickets, but I can't really find the time. Or it'll be sold out if I think of something. That's kinda how it goes when you live in the theater city of the country."

Lexa nodded in understanding. "I might put an ad together then. I've been having a difficult time-" she stopped herself. "People are very protective of the way their visions are transcribed."

Maybe they've just seen themselves sleep with you too, Clarke thought. "I'm sure many would be happy to have them in your writing."

Lexa rubbed the back of her neck. "Thank you, Clarke."

"Of course."

* * *

Clarke rarely drove east to the financial district, but the Organic Foods there was the only store that carried the obscure brand of honey Wells liked the best for their honey cakes. She went during her lunch break on Thursday, eager to avoid the evening rush hour. It was drizzling today, but Clarke didn't mind capricious weather so long as she got the product her baker and her customers enjoyed the most.

She was feeling antsy, unsure about her date with Niylah the following day. It wasn't anything uncommon for them, but this time seemed different. Clarke couldn't help but feel it had to do with her vision, which… she definitely hadn’t shared with Niylah. It wasn't just the tattoo that was missing, but the way their bodies had locked and the sweet sound of the whisper Clarke couldn't forget.

She shopped in the store with purpose, knowing exactly where to push her cart. She grabbed ten pots of honey total and made her way back to checkout, eyeing the cheese aisle on the way. Their Roquefort sure was overpriced but damn was it good. One time Wells and his girlfriend Raven had invited her over for dinner and graced her taste buds with the best Roquefort and pear salad she'd ever had. Her effort to recreate it on her own had been a soggy calamity.

"Clarke?"

She turned her head, her entire body locking at the sight of Finn Collins. His hair was slicked back with what Clarke assumed was an entire pot of gel, but it was his pretentious black suit that made him stick out like a sore thumb.

"Finn," she responded, though made no effort to color her tone with any warmth.

He approached her with a smile. "I'm surprised to see you here. You hate the East bank."

Clarke kept her hands on her cart, grateful that it was between them. "I don't hate the East bank. I just don't have ten dollars to spend on a loaf of bread."

"That's a stretch, but you've always been good at that."

"Can I help you?" She gritted her teeth.

He chuckled. "Calm down. I'm just messing around."

"And you're good at that, aren’t you?"

Finn's smile turned into a tightening of his jaw while he looked around, as if to make sure no one had heard.

"Don't worry, your father's constituents aren’t listening. I doubt they even do it at public events."

"They were very eager to listen today when I came in with my business proposals."

Clarke paused, remembering what Gaia had told her about Finn's expansion plans. She'd never mentioned him approaching chains though, let alone Organic Foods. "Do they know they'd be buying flash-frozen factory products?"

"My stores bake fresh daily and on the spot, Clarke. Why don't you come down one day and try our Elmond location? I'll even show you the kitchens. I have to say - it's a genius spot. The proximity to the college alone is driving demand through the roof. I'm already pitching a breakfast sandwich to investors."

He was trying to goad and if Clarke didn't know his tactics so well - bitterly well - it would have been easy to fall into it. She pushed her cart past him, taking some satisfaction in the way he jolted when a wheel rolled over the tip of his foot. Sometimes actions were better than words.

* * *

Clarke spent most of the evening picking out her date outfit for the next day, knowing she wouldn't have time in the morning, let alone after rushing from the café to pick Niylah up. It seemed like it would be relatively casual if the event was open to the public, but rocking her jeans and leather jacket didn't feel right. She settled on a black number and some strappy heels, mostly to not be a head shorter than Niylah who liked to wear heels whenever she could get out of her work boots.

The day of, Clarke was slightly absentminded. When Lexa walked in, this time at her regular 8am, Clarke found it hard not to focus on her. She was wearing a dark green sweater today, with the collar of a flannel peaking out as usual, and her hair in a single braid. It was exactly how Clarke expected Lexa to look, and yet each time she walked in felt like the first.

"Good morning," Lexa said as she approached the counter.

Clarke smiled. "Morning. What will it be today?"

Lexa scanned the display glass, swallowing when she spotted the basket of croissants. They were still warm, but Clarke knew Lexa didn't indulge every time she came.

"I'll just have a regular coffee, please."

Clarke nodded and grabbed one of the mugs, but as she poured the coffee she couldn't help but prolong the moment. "Sure I can't tempt you?" She asked, glancing at the basket.

Lexa hesitated before she smiled. "Maybe you can."

It was the first - the first time Lexa had smiled at her and Clarke felt her heart skip a beat. It was barely a quirk at the corner of her mouth, but it was there and it was hers. Clarke couldn't think of a better smile.

"On the house."

"What? No-"

Clarke set down her cup of coffee. “For the slice of cheesecake you turned down.”

“Well… if you insist.”

Clarke put the croissant on a plate with a napkin. “I do.”

Lexa paid in cash as usual, dropping the change in the tip jar. She picked up the plate but didn’t make a move otherwise, clearly hesitant to say something.

“Was there something el-”

“I have a spare ticket to this play,“ Lexa finally dropped. "A comedy my cousin wrote. Opening night, but everyone I know already has tickets."

Clarke waited with bated breath, just as nervous as Lexa seemed. A part of her just wanted to ask Lexa if she felt the same undercurrent of frustration between them, like a growing pile of things left unsaid. It was true for Clarke of course, but that truth would only drive Lexa away.

"I thought - based on what you said, that maybe if the opportunity presented itself… you might be interested in going?”

Still taken aback and completely unprepared, Clarke's first instinct was to deflect. “Writing runs in the family?” She asked.

Lexa nodded. “Just the two of us. Woods are usually in health or politics, so it’s brought us closer.”

Clarke wondered if that meant Lexa didn’t get along with the rest of her family. “When’s the play?”

“Tonight, 7pm,” Lexa grimaced. “Very short notice, I know. But there'll be an after-party with free food and drinks. Obviously you could bail on that - my cousin's friends can be a handful. He's an incredible writer though. It should be a fun play."

A night out to a new play, free food, interesting company - it sounded tempting enough that Clarke considered stepping aside to call Niylah and cancel their plans, but that wasn't fair to her.

“That’s really sweet of you to offer... I already have plans tonight though, I’m sorry.”

Lexa seemed to deflate like a balloon, but recovered quickly. “No need to apologize. This was ridiculously last minute.”

Clarke realized it was the second time she was turning her down. She hoped Lexa didn't start to think it was on purpose. “Another time maybe?" She suggested hopefully.

“I’d like that.”

That had to mean something, though Clarke wasn't sure what.

She picked Niylah up at her apartment at 9pm sharp, having the advantage of being closer to downtown. She lived in a two-bedroom on the second floor of the building, which her family had owned for four generations now. Clarke liked the Croft family, but she couldn't imagine ever living so close to her own. She loved both her parents, and they'd been nothing but supportive in the past hectic years, but they were a good three-hour drive away and frankly that was fine. Once, her mother had nearly given her a heart attack when she'd re-organized the café's financial records without consulting her and Clarke could only take such misguided initiatives in small doses.

Niylah wore a white top beneath a dark blue blazer and its matching pants, cutting quite the figure with the addition of her heels. It was hard to believe the woman drove a delivery truck as a job, but Niylah was surprising in her own right. She kissed Clarke's cheek while they waited for their Lyft, both knowing the night would not end in anyone being remotely sober enough to drive.

"Have you ever been inside?" Niylah asked her on the way to the hotel.

Clarke shook her head. "Are you kidding? They'd throw me in the dumpster on sight."

Niylah laughed. "They're not the Ritz."

"Oh, not because of the clothes."

"Finn?" Niylah asked.

Clarke's mood soured. She hadn’t forgotten their last encounter. "Can we not?"

"Sure."

Clarke sighed and took her hand. "Let's just have a good time."

Niylah looked at her lips and smirked. "I plan to."

The Polis Hotel was a historic landmark of the city, built over a hundred years ago and with the original stones to prove it. It had the looks of both a mansion and a small castle, a sort of majestic giant sat on a very slight hill. It wasn't a surprise to see a line of smartly dressed people outside, but when Niylah guided her past the line and straight toward the busy entrance, Clarke figured she'd kept something from her.

"Niylah, you said this was a public event."

"If you managed to snag tickets," Niylah shrugged. "My dad got them for free after he did a couple last-minute deliveries for them."

Clarke tugged on her arm. "You could’ve opened with that."

"You would've insisted I give them to someone else."

Clarke looked everywhere, impressed by the buzz. "This looks like a big deal."

Niylah showed their tickets, which got torn before another person stamped the back of their hands with the elegant logo of the Polis Hotel.

"It's promo for a play," Niylah remembered. "Nowhere Ground or something? The owner's son is the playwright. It's gotten a lot of buzz."

When they stepped inside, Clarke felt a thrill. There was something exciting about being a part of something exclusive and it was clear the hotel intended on giving its guests for the night a good time. Ushered down the hall, Clarke realized quickly that the crowd was spread out in two connected rooms, both rooms seemingly large enough to host balls. Back when it had been built, they likely did.

The first room was packed, with the bulk of the crowd by the bars and others in the seated area where food could be ordered. They were the ones closest to the stage, where a band was already playing loud 1920s inspired music. Clarke only caught a glance of the second room for now, a sort of game room with the allure of a casino. There were pool tables and table games already quite busy; blackjack and poker games well under way. Clarke figured this room had more actual guests of the hotel, though it didn't seem discouraged for anyone here for the live music to partake in them. She vaguely remembered the Polis Hotel having a gambling license, but she'd hardly expected a whole floor of it.

It was certainly a change of scenery; a world Clarke was interested in experiencing tonight but rather happy not being a part of any longer than that. She could tell Niylah was absolutely fascinated by it all, and it was easy to get swept up.

"Do you think they might retroactively throw a soirée like this for the café's opening?" Niylah asked.

Clarke stayed close to her as they made their way toward the bar. "Maybe for the tenth anniversary."

They started off the night with two Old Fashioned cocktails, eventually seated by a waiter in a '20s costume a few tables from the stage. Clarke had to strain her ears to hear Niylah, who tried very hard to talk above the volume.

"Are you trying the Charleston tonight?"

Clarke laughed. "Not a chance in hell!"

True to her word Clarke didn't attempt anything too far outside of her comfort zone, but they did make their way to the dance floor eventually where they fell into a rhythm that was all too familiar. She didn't mind when Niylah's hands went to her hips, and she didn't mind when their bodies loosened further through the night, especially after a quick bite and their third cocktail. When she felt her lips by her neck, however, Clarke knew that something was off. She pulled back and smiled, squeezing Niylah’s hand.

"I'm going to get some water," she said. "Want anything?"

Niylah shook her head, likely understanding Clarke needed a break. Clarke managed to get a glass of water at the bar and made her way through the crowd, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. She found herself by the second room, which had become busier since she'd peeked into it two hours ago but was still considerably less crowded than the stage room. She lingered in the back, slowly sipping on her water while she thought about Niylah and how it felt like they were on two different pages, clumsily trying to find their way back to each other.

There was a group in the furthest corner that Clarke guessed had to be some of the actors from the play. They were exceptionally attractive, with their '20s hairdos still in place and some remnants of makeup.

But it wasn't an actress that made Clarke hold her breath. She could hardly even believe it when she saw Lexa sitting at the table, with her thick hair loose and swept to one side and the sleeves of a dark grey flannel rolled up to her forearms. The dots connected immediately. Lexa was grinning like she was about to win the lottery, and when she put down what must've been an exceptional hand, she might as well have. Her group erupted into a mix of cheers on one side and groans of protests on the other, but the dominant sound was laughter. Lexa high-fived who Clarke assumed was her cousin, the playwright, before grabbing her drink and tipping it back. Her cousin squeezed her shoulder, obviously proud that she had brought them to victory. She didn't seem drunk but was clearly tipsy, smiling lazily while a dark-haired woman whispered something in her ear.

A feeling of complete irrational jealousy settled in the pit of Clarke's stomach. Still dizzy from the dancing and her drinks, it became hard for Clarke to stop herself from remembering her vision. From imagining Lexa's hands run down her body again, cupping her breasts, wrapping around her thighs to part them wider as she settled in between them and pressed her eager mouth against wet heat. Clarke couldn't have imagined prim, focused Lexa with a tattoo before - but she could imagine this Lexa having one, especially stood next to her cousin, who had an entire sleeve of them on his left arm and another one going down his neck and beneath the collar of his shirt. It was all she could think about now, making it impossible to deny any longer that Lexa's build matched the one from her vision, that her hair was just as thick, and that there was clearly more to her than clipped sentences and serious expressions.

Clarke downed her glass of water to parch her suddenly dry throat, hoping it wasn't so obvious the kind of thoughts she was entertaining. And on a date with another woman, no less. What kind of person did that? She had to get a grip, and fast. It must've been a cruel joke that Niylah found her then, softly pressing her hand against her back.  

"Are you okay?" She asked.

Clarke quickly nodded, but when she turned her head and looked toward Lexa again, their eyes met and okay seemed like the furthest thing to describe her feelings. She wasn't sure what she could possibly read in Lexa's expression from so far across the room, but her heart pounded regardless. Lexa knew why she'd declined her invitation now and Clarke couldn't really understand why she felt sudden guilt, like she had been caught in a lie. But she hadn’t - she'd told Lexa she had plans. How she could have known that they would wind up in the same place regardless? She swallowed hard and looked away.

"I think I've had enough for tonight," she told Niylah.

Niylah seemed to agree and reached for her empty glass. "Let me put this down and let's get out of here."

"Meet me outside the restroom?" Clarke asked.

"Sure."

It was a bit quieter on the way to the restroom, though Clarke wondered if maybe she was just going deaf. She followed the sign and wavered just a second when she realized she was walking by a large stairwell. It was splendid, with details in the railing that Clarke had to marvel at for just a moment.

She looked up and found a tabby cat staring at her from one of the steps, but tonight had already been too strange for her to be surprised. Shaking her head, she continued toward the restroom and forgot all about it.

When she checked herself in the large mirror above the sink, washing her hands with the slowness of someone with too much whisky coursing through them, her thoughts went back to the past year. She wondered if the next would look like the same despite her vision; if something so monumentally life changing to some people would just end up being an old memory to her. She pushed some of her hair back from where it stuck to her forehead, sighing at the state of her lipstick now completely faded.

When she came out of the restroom and passed the stairwell, she vaguely became aware of someone coming her way. When she glanced at their face, she stopped short. 

"Lexa," she said, surprised. 

Lexa looked up at something and then strangely stilled. "Don't panic."

Clarke frowned. "What's wrong?"

"There's an angry cat perched on the stairs about to pounce on you."

"What?" Clarke turned around.

"No don't move," Lexa warned her gently, her hand reaching for her waist to keep her from staring at the cat.  

Clarke felt a jolt beneath Lexa's touch, like the lightest press of her fingers had burned her. She hadn’t expected it, let alone Lexa stepping so close to her. She wasn't sure what she wished for the most - to have worn a thicker dress so that she wouldn't feel the heat of Lexa's hand so close to her skin or have it entirely gone.  

"Why not?" She asked her, alarmed, though she was unsure if it was because of Lexa's proximity or because a cat might claw her face out.  

"Any sudden movement and she reacts," Lexa explained as she kept her eyes trained on the cat. "She pounced on me in this exact spot just a few months ago. It's not a pleasant feeling."

Clarke found herself unable to look anywhere but at Lexa's face - or rather the column of her throat, tilted just a bit. "I can't imagine," she said.

"She's skittish, but a little patience goes a long way."

"Does it?"

Maybe it wasn't the time for Clarke to realize Lexa and her had always been separated by something before, whether it was the counter at the café or the table Lexa sat at. Lexa was a customer - had never been anything else. She said hello and ordered and said goodbye. They'd had brief conversations, but the line had still been there. The line that one expected between the person behind the counter and the person in front of it.

But when her question prompted Lexa to finally look away from the cat, and look at her, and realize how close they were, Clarke knew the line had vanished. Lexa's eyes seemed to darken, and Clarke thought maybe her fingers pressed into her waist just the briefest moment before she suddenly stepped away.

"She's gone," Lexa said with a hard swallow.

"What?"

"The cat."

"Oh." Clarke's heart hammered while she glanced toward the stairs, having completely forgotten about the animal. When she failed to catch Lexa’s eyes again, she thought for a moment that Lexa seemed upset. "Thank you," she breathed out.

"Hm."

“Hey,” Niylah called her as she arrived from around the corner. “You ready to go?”

Clarke blinked at Niylah before remembering their last conversation. She walked to her side. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Lexa was gone when Clarke looked back, but the feeling in her chest persisted.

The ride to Niylah’s was quiet, and neither reached out to touch hands like they would have usually done. Outside of Niylah’s complex, they stood by the door and watched the Lyft pull away. Niylah stepped closer to her.

“I had a great night,” she said.

“Me too. Thanks for the invite.”

"Thank you for the drinks."

Clarke smiled. Spending time with Niylah always felt easy. They laughed and were comfortable together. Their conversations always flowed. Clarke couldn't think of a single fault to pick apart, and yet when Niylah cupped her cheek and kissed her, she knew something had changed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she pulled away.

Niylah nodded sadly. "I figured. Had to reach this point sometime, right?"

"I don't want to lose you," Clarke insisted. "I… I just think I might if we keep doing this."

"I know."

Clarke wasn't sure what to say for a moment - wasn't sure why this night hadn’t gone like all the other ones. All she knew was that Niylah's kiss had carried less heat than Lexa's brief touch - hadn’t made her stomach tighten or her heart beat faster. She didn't understand it yet, how she could react so strongly to a stranger, but she couldn't drag Niylah into her mess.  

"Are we going to be okay?"

"I might be ten minutes late this Monday to stick it to you," Niylah shrugged playfully.

"You deserve at least an extra twenty."

Niylah hummed in consideration before she opened the door. "Have a good night, Clarke."

"Night, Niy."

-

[part three]

[writemywaytoyourheart]

He sees your self-harm scars | Seokjin

Requested: kind of,,, @tangledsparkles gave me the idea, so thanks love, ILY ❤️

a/n: I... love....Kim Seokjin... D@MMIT!!! This is one of my favorites I've done, honestly, pls I love him so much. Enjoy it cuties!! -chip

pairing: Seokjin x reader

Word count: 1.1k

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: nothing too bad honestly; self harm scars but no details on how or why.

Trigger Warning- if you're easily triggered by this topic, pls don't read

“Kim Namjoon! Kim Seokjin! Min Yoongi! Jung Hoseok! Park Jimin! Kim Taehyung! Jeon Jungkook! BTS!”

The chants of all the ARMY in the crowd makes goosebumps go up and down your arms as you hurry your way down the hall to the dressing rooms. You mumble along to it as they scream the name of each member, a smile breaking out on your face at the name of your boyfriend; Kim Seokjin. You always loved the fan chant, whether it’s live or on a screen it always seems to send chills down your spine. You make it to the dressing rooms and greet the stylists that are prepping for when the boys need to come and change for the next song. They smile and bow to you as they keep hurrying around the room and setting up make-up and costumes. You look to the corner and see the TV set that has the boys performing live on it. You smile and watch until a staff member comes to take you to where you’ll watch the concert and greet the boys afterwards.

You’re sitting in a room on a couch that’s actually quite comfortable, there is a TV screen on the wall in front of you and your foot is tapping to the beat of one of your favorite BTS songs; Fake Love. Humming along and smiling you coo when the camera man zooms in on your man when it’s his solo and he’s dancing and singing his sweet heart out- not to mention looking really freaking hot while he does it. You clear your throat and push your hair back. It’s suddenly really hot in here….You look down and realize that you still have your big jacket on; it was snowing outside when you came in and you forgot you hadn’t taken it off yet. You pull it off quickly and sigh at the cool air hitting your skin. The next song is Jin’s Epiphany and you sit closer to the screen when he starts playing the piano; falling in love with him all over again. His beautiful voice makes your breath catch in your throat and you stare at him in awe, he really is a Disney prince come to life, isn’t he?

-

A few hours later and the concert ends, you clap along with the rest of the ARMY in the crowd and stand up from the couch, smiling ear to ear at the boys bowing on the screen. Another few minutes and a staff member finally comes to tell you that the boys are coming and you should hide in the dressing room to surprise your boyfriend. You brighten at the idea and quickly follow him into the dressing room again, you see a rack of clothes with Jin’s name on them and deem it the perfect hiding spot. You walk over and hide yourself in the clothes, giving the staff member a thumbs up and then disappearing completely. He laughs and goes to see where the boys are.

After another minute the door opens and you hear the boys walk in, except you can’t tell who all came in and in what order, so you wait to jump out; you peek through the clothes and see Jimin talking animatedly to Jungkook and they both laugh, then Jungkook looks in your direction and chokes, his eyes widening when he see you peeking out. You put a finger to your lips and he nods subtly, pretending like nothing happened. Then Jin is suddenly there, his back to the clothing rack, how can you tell it’s him when they are all wearing the same thing? You’d know those wide world shoulders anywhere. You jump out suddenly and wrap your arms around Jin’s waist causing him to jump and scream.

“WAHH!” Jin flips around to defend himself but when he sees it’s only you his face relaxes visibly and he pulls you into a hug, “ah princess, you almost gave me a heart attack!” Jungkook is laughing his head off on the other side of the room, “careful y/n, Jin-hyung is too old to play scare tricks on.” You laugh when Jin raises his hand and mumbles at Jungkook, “you, you little brat. Get out of here.” Jungkook laughs then leaves with the others to give you two a moment. Jin pulls you close and kisses you softly sighing against your mouth, “I missed you darling.” You hug him tighter and sigh, “I missed you too baby.” Jin smiles at you adoringly and brushes your hair out of your face. You smile sleepily and he takes your hands to give you little kisses all over them. That’s when you realize you left your coat in the other room and you’re wearing a short-sleeved shirt. Jin doesn’t let you pull away when you start to try and take your hands away from him; he just pulls you closer and kisses your fingers, going down to your palms and then your wrists that are covered with scars from your dark past.

“Jin…”

“Mm?” He opens his eyes and smiles sweetly at you, “you’re beautiful y/n, you know that? Even prettier than me.” He winks at you and you laugh nervously, still trying to pull your hands back. Suddenly JIn takes your chin and makes you look at him, “y/n? I already know about them. Please don’t hide from me.” You freeze and he continues softly, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, since you haven’t brought it up yet. But, I thought I’d let you know I love you and everything that comes with you.” Your eyes burn from the tears threatening to spill.

“But they’re ugly…”

“Can I tell you something?”

“What is it?” You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand when he lets your hands go to bring his hands to your cheeks.

“What’s my favorite thing to call you?”

“Huh?”

“You know what it is, what is it?”

You blink in confusion and then mutter, “uh, princess?” He nods and kisses your nose, “wanna know why I started to call you that?” You smile and look at him, “because you’re a prince?” He laughs and shakes his head then he pulls you into his chest, “because all the strongest princesses have battle scars.” The sob that escapes your throat is unattractive to say the least, but Jin just coos and shushes you, “it’s okay to cry princess, I love you…Don’t ever be ashamed of the battles you fought. You’re alive and you’re with me now. Thank you, thank you for fighting.”

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

a/n 2.0: if you don't love this man....unfollow me pls....he doesn't get the recognition he deserves. and I won't stand for anyone leaving a member out. Ok...I'm done...thanks for reading!! Jin stans: YOUR TIME HAS COME, RISE NOW. -chip

[firsttime-writer]

Can you do a Dean forester x reader where they're adults and are back from college (let's pretend Dean was able to go to college after he and Rory broke up for the second time) and they run into Rory? Kinda angsty, mostly fluffy, not Rory bashing. Thx!

my first request!!!! yay thank you so much!!! also i would never bash rory, i love her too much. Dean im a little iffy on towards the end, but we can ignore that.

P.S i forgot to mention i do these things in HC style bc hey idk how to write and ive never actually written before

Dean wanted you to meet his family. He was all excited to show you his old high school and his house and it was honestly all sounding like a great way to spend spring break.

 And who are we kidding? Who could say no to him? He’s like a big tall puppy. 

So you drove back with him. The road trip was fun, the two of you sang along to your favourite music and held hands over the console.

You were nervous to meet his parents and he could tell, but the way he squeezed your hand while he comforted you, melted any worries you had away.

The actual meeting of his family went amazingly, they seemed to like you and trusted you to treat their son well. All in all, it went great.

The two of you decided to celebrate, you would have a movie night! 

Dean didn’t have many movies at home, so you decided to hit the video store and the market to stock up on snacks.

The movie store went fine, the two of you argued over what to pick before settling on one movie each plus one more that you both agreed on

Then you made your way to the market for snacks.

It was closing in 10 minutes so you set up a plan. 

“Ok. Since I worked here. I’ll handle the middle aisles. You walk the outside of the store and pick up anything we need from there. Deal?” 

“I think I can handle that. Deal.”

“Okay. Break!”

And with that, you made your way to the walls of the store. You skipped clean over any produce aisles and made your way straight to the fridges. 

You had made your way to the ice cream before you heard Dean’s laugh from across the store. 

Looking up with a smile, you froze as you saw a girl talking to him. They seemed to be close, the two of them breaking apart from a hug and talking animatedly.

Trying not to come to any bad conclusions, you dumped two cartons of ice cream into your basket and made your way over.

Sidling up beside Dean you tried to act normal.

“Hey, babe..” good, subtle, not too needy. Doesn’t sound jealous right? right. good.

He glanced down at you with a smile before looking back at the girl. Man, she’s awfully pretty…

“Hey, baby! Rory, this is my girlfriend, y/n.” 

The girl, Rory apparently, seemed to flounder a bit before greeting you. “O-oh. Hi. um, I’m Rory. But you already knew that. Sorry. It’s really nice to meet you!” 

God even her voice is perfect. That all adds up doesn’t it. Rory… You’ve heard that name before, haven’t you… 

Oh

Yes, you have…

Rory as in Deans ex-girlfriend. That Rory. His first love. Fucking wonderful.

Even still, you tried to be polite, as real people do. “It’s nice to meet you too.” 

Dean and Rory chatted a little while you awkwardly stood there until you heard the cashier call that the store was about to close and to finish your purchases now. 

The three of you looked down at the baskets before quickly making your way to the cash. You stood in awkward silence as Dean paid for your purchases and then bid Rory goodbye.

“Look, it was really great seeing you, but we gotta get moving if we wanna finish all three movies tonight without passing out. I’ll see you around.”

Rory smiled her perfect smile as she said her goodbyes as well. “It was great meeting you y/n! And Dean, im sure ill see you around.”

You sighed in relief as the two of you headed for the door but as you opened it you heard her call his name again. 

“Hey Dean! I’ll be sure to pay for the cornstarch this time!”  He snorted, before waving and holding the door open for you to walk out. 

As the two of you walked back to his house, you were quiet, trying not to think about how close they seemed, or how they seem to share inside jokes, or how they even looked perfect together. Your brain was starting to hit the dangerous territory of ‘I wonder if they still care for eachother’ before you felt Dean squeeze your hand. 

“Baby, hey, are you okay?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking” About how you’re probably still in love with the perfect girl from Harvard…

“Thinking about what? You look upset.”

He stopped the two of you at the end of his driveway and pulled you in front of him. “Tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say you’re fine, you know I hate that.”

Never wanting to lie to him, You sighed and stared at your shoes as you answered him.

“Just… Rory seems very nice..and pretty..and perfect. I know you guys used to date, I can see why.“

You heard him chuckle under his breath and it made you huff, before you felt his hand under your chin urging you to look him in the eye. 

“You’re jealous-” “No I’m not.” “It wasn’t a question. You’re jealous of Rory. Even though you know I’m completely in love with you.” 

“Yeah but she’s so pretty and-” “But you, are perfect. Come on, you have no reason to be jealous, you know I love you and want to be with only you.”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you a little closer before gently kissing you on the lips. “I’m all your baby, and only yours.” And then he pulled you in by the hips to kiss you deeper until you forgot why you were even jealous in the first place. 

Hope you enjoy it!! and please be kind, I’ve never done anything like this before, but i did binge watch Gilmore girls four times so i have a little knowledge.