#that’s supposed to be saturday this semester but i have so little time during the week i have to do my little chores plus so much

[quiltedlovers]

*through gritted teeth* this will be worth it this will be worth it this will be worth it

[sadnightforus]

YOU MIGHT BE SLEEPING  (LJY)

biker boyfriend!juyeon x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: In an attempt to surprise you for the 500 days anniversary, he took you on a ride to his favorite places that are far away from the city, after various complaints from you that you found nothing to do in Seoul. 

WORD COUNT: 3.9K

WARNINGS: none… we reached this point guys (besides the mentioning of Eric being a super rich guy that’s all). too much fluff *insert the crying waterfall emoji because normal emoji does not cut it* 

A/N: don’t know if y’all know this but I was inspired by that one particular fanmade video. the og concept was supposed to have a bad boy vibe but he looks too good in that middle pic so I have to comply with this one instead. so cute, I’m kicking my feet fr. also omg full on fluffy soft fic from me??? I Will Die. 😭😭😭

ALSO THIS IS THE FANMADE VID. 

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

You’re bored of Seoul. 

 Don’t get it wrong, you don’t hate the city at all. But Seoul always has something going on. The streets look amazing during the day and night and there’s modern technology everywhere. Everything seems so fancy and lavish. You’re proud of how far the world has come. 

 Even though it’s incredibly hard to earn a quiet time for yourself since it’s a really busy city and if you want complete silence, you have to block out their own voices. It’s hard to ignore the presence of others when there are loud noises and so many people at once. 

 However, for you, it’s also the city of love.

 You met Juyeon when you both first enrolled into the same college and happened to closely share a semester together due to the duo group work your professor was making you do (and the deadline was well over 2 weeks). Those 2 weeks were blissful, you used to think he was a bit cold and even more so, a bit too full of himself, since he is immediately dubbed as ‘the dancing prince’ and he hangs out with the popular crowd. But your first impressions didn’t matter because he was incredibly nice and polite, and was so helpful when helping you with the project too, be it ideas or just offering to take places in completing the work. And you both ended up getting an A due to the outstanding efforts you put into your work, which you have to thank your amazing partner for. 

 And after the project ended, he still keeps in contact with you, insisting that you’re quite an interesting individual to know and hope to develop a further friendship. A total lie from him because he later admitted that when you both got into a relationship with the saying that by then, he already liked you and he just wanted to see if he has a chance with you. 

 Now back to the present. 

 It’s Saturday and you both are on a semester break. You live with your roommate/coworker and she’s off to work already, leaving you alone in this apartment as it’s your day off today. You were cleaning up your room and wiping off the dust off the furniture when suddenly you received a phone call. You look at your caller ID and you can’t help but smile when you see who it is. 

 So you pick up, pausing your cleaning process so you can talk to him just a little bit. 

“Hi, my pretty baby.” 

 That name never fails to flatter you and make your heart jump out of your chest. 

“Hey there, pretty boy.” 

 You think you do a pretty job concealing your flustered face and tone (rightfully, sue him for reducing you into a mushy lover). Otherwise, you would’ve been so embarrassed if he knew he had done irreversible damage to you. 

“You don’t have any plans for anything today, right?” 

“Why? You wanna take me to one of Eric’s father’s fancy restaurants?” 

“Great idea, actually.” He laughs, humoring you along. It’s no secret that Juyeon loves spoiling you. He had a hard exterior, according to all of your friends and you yourself. But when you guys began dating, they were subjected to the PDA between you two and their opinions on him quickly changed because just who is this guy? And plus, he also likes to take you on a new adventure. 

 Somehow, it makes you feel like a naïve teenage girl who’s dating a bad boy and you always wanted to ask him if he is truly one (even if you know he works part-time as a barista for his parents’ café shop). It’s hard to believe that someone as perfect as him can possibly exist. It’s unbelievable. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to join me for today's exploring.” He shyly explains and you can feel his shy smile tugs through his tone. What have you done in your past life to get a guy like him wrapped around your finger? Whatever you were doing, you’ve done it right. 

“If it’s Seoul, I’ve practically walked through every shady alleyway. It’s no fun.” You whine, your wet cloth cleaning off the dust is long forgotten amidst the phone call between you and your lover. 

“It’s not Seoul. I wanna take you somewhere else.” He keeps it vague and you suspect that he has a surprise for you. 

“Okay, let me clean myself up a bit.” You exclaim, putting down the wet cloth and hanging it up to dry from your bedroom (in your defense, it’s not dirty at all. You have a habit of wiping off your dust often and you definitely don’t have enough time in your hand to clean it right now). 

“Can you pick me up in an hour and a half?” You ask him, strutting around in your room to go to your bathroom to freshen yourself up. 

“You can still show up in sweats and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” He says, means every single word of it because he thinks you’re pretty. So goddamn pretty he loses his mind over you and he doesn’t believe that he’s the one who gets to have you all the time. 

“Lee Juyeon, shut up. I think I stink. Do you honestly like it when I’m sweating like a dog?” You make a gagging face while you’re putting on your cleansing foam. 

“The sweats can’t wipe away your beauty.” His reply makes you want to bang your head into the wall so bad. 

 God, he’s such a romantic. 

“I’m showering. You can save that sappiness when you pick me up later.” You furiously blush, trying to get him to end the call so you can get ready to go wherever he leads you to. 

“I’ll see you later then, baby.” 

 And the line is disconnected. 

 You sulk a bit before putting your device back as you snap back to reality. But you’re also beyond excited where he will take you to today. 

 So you divert your attention back onto getting ready and hoping that the new things you’ve been wanting to try out will work. 

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” Is the first thing Juyeon says after he comes to pick you up. 

 You decide to wear a black big cozy jacket, combined with black jeans and white shirt, which goes with his similar casual wear that he chooses. 

 There’s a spark in his eyes as he scams your whole body. A boyish smile yet so much of a shyness ticks behind that expression. He hands you a helmet, to which you still remember that the particular item is a gift from his dad who bought motorcycle tools equipment as a present for his 19th birthday and that includes the helmet you’re holding in your hand. You check to see if it has been unlocked yet. Once you see that it does, you quickly put it on your head, adjusting it properly before locking it and you gently hop onto the vehicle, excited for the ride.

“Are you ready?” He asks, wanting to make sure that you’re seating yourself comfortably before the motorcycle takes off.

“I’m all done.”

 And you hear the engine takes off, as the vehicle takes both of you far away from your place.

 The air feels fresher than usual, the atmosphere and the feelings remind you of the old Hong Kong movies you used to watch with your friends as a teenager. You always dream of doing something wild and adventurous to feel the essence of the ‘neon & loneliness’— something that has been used to precisely describe those types of movies. And now it’s like you’re living your dreams out. 

 If it’s a dream then you don’t want to wake up from it. 

 His soft woody cologne that radiates from his body all makes you feel like everything is in a daze and you’re the main protagonist of those films that you always loved. How did you get so lucky? 

 The motor is being driven further away from the city and you’ve crossed numerous luxurious stores and fancy places as you hold on tight to your lover. You’ve seen different kinds of people today; the sad, the happy, the singles, the couples, the divorced, the kids, teenagers, adults and you think you might’ve driven past celebrities by accident too. 

 Your eyes are trained to watch the road and take your worries off the daily life you’re experiencing today. You think though, instead, it’s making you realize something very precious about life. 

 People can be in a state of anything, regardless of their age. And they’re diverse, they have something to tell. Behind every person, there’s a story that is waiting for a person to uncover those. Uncover the deepest, best and worst parts of themselves. 

 You think you’re lucky that your boyfriend is the most gentle and caring person who always brings out the best part of yourself. Never once had you ever felt as if you were held back or restricted from good opportunities. He always encourages you to chase after your dream, while he steadily works towards his goal. 

 The short breeze through the city now has long escaped. You both are going somewhere unfamiliar, although you’re not sure how exactly familiar he is with where he plans to take you. However, you know better than to doubt him when he is quite literally the very same person with a really great taste in everything.

 Your thoughts do eventually come to a stop as he drives to a gas station and by that time, it’s around 3 and a half in the afternoon. The vehicle’s engine is no longer running after he shuts the power off and you know it’s time you get off the bike.

“I’d like to fill in the tank please.” Is what he says. His honey voice, ever so softly, makes you wonder how people aren’t falling for him already. The staff comes to him immediately and helps fill in the gas as per request. 

“Do you want to buy something?” He turns to ask you. “Or do you need to use the bathroom?”

“Not really.” You respond as you shake your head.

 You both stand while waiting for them to pump the gas and calculate the bill. And when you both are done, he gears up the vehicle to signal that the adventure is nowhere done. You hop on it, excited to see what will be waiting for you.

 You both leave the place, 

 Your boyfriend’s scent soon lures you to sleep, with you being barely able to open your eyes. It hasn’t been that long that you fall asleep together with him, but you both are somehow always away with the college assignments and personal workloads that are being dumped on you. Having him really close for the first time in 3 weeks does nothing but really makes you want to rest up.

 And you think to yourself, hmm, screw that. He’ll wake me up when we arrive at the place.

 Then you lay your head and close eyes as you feel yourself drifting further away to the dreamland that has been long awaited for you.

 You woke up once you felt like you were being carried.

 You didn’t register it until you felt the abnormality of the said body pillow that you’ve been resting on start moving up and going even gradually higher. It’s only then that you open your eyes, consciousness not fully hitting you yet as your exhaustion keeps luring you to the dreamland. However, since you don’t have such a habit of sleeping when you are being moved around, you try your very best to open your eyes and pray that the sunlight will hit your eyes, although it’s unlikely as the sky beams with the color of soft orange and yellow, like a beautiful fire in flames.

“Ju-”

“Shh, baby. Just sleep.” He shushes you, continuing to give you a piggyback ride. You immediately protest and almost go feral and also, almost cause a disturbance to him too.

“I’m wide awake, you can put me down and I can walk.” 

“Nice try, but no.” He chuckles and you can already imagine the most annoying yet such a beautifully crafted boyish grin plastered all over his face. He’s lovely– that’s just who he is.

“But where are you taking me?” You ask, eyes now can’t close on their own as your sleepiness already wears off from talking earlier.

“You’ll see.”

 And several minutes later, you both reach a part of a town that you’re sure has never been here before. He seems to be lost, with the way he hesitates to take a step further as he walks. 

“But Ju…” You whine. “Can’t you tell where you’re going?” You plead for him to give an answer, you so badly wanted to know what place he will show you this time. 

“Nuh uh.” He shakes his head a bit, still insisting on being mysterious and vague with the direction you’re heading. 

“But will you put me down? It’s uncomfortable being carried when I’m like, awake.” You complain and he finally gives in, sighing as he puts you down and you almost stumble forward and fall as the gravity feels new to you and if your boyfriend wasn’t there to catch you at all, you’d certainly slip by now. 

“Thank you.” You mumble out. 

“You good to go?” He asks, offering you his hand to hold as you busk in a new, unfamiliar place together. His eyes sparkle up, light of hope and love, so much adoration stores up in a gaze of his that belongs to a person that you’re proud to call him yours. 

 You’re losing track of yourself with the way you keep looking at him without a word, like a dumbfounded teenager that has no idea what they should do when they harbor romantic feelings towards their crush. But he lets you, until you gulp down to wet your throat and proceed with the next thing you’re going to say. 

“Yes.” You have a dopey smile on your face. “I can’t wait.”

 And you both take one step, two steps and more steps forward. Until you get inside the mysterious building. 

 Your boyfriend is not a man of many words, but his actions are always sincere. When he speaks, he always expresses his love for you. 

 You can even say that in almost two years of your relationship, you never have to doubt his feelings for you. That’s just how transparent he is. You don’t think you can find a greater love than him.

 With more steps further, you make it past the door and you see many abstract arts and paintings being hung, scattered all across the wall. Each frame and piece, colorfully coming together to make a piece of stories that is waiting to be told. The lines that piece it together, asymmetrically perfect in a way that it never seems to be out of place, although if you separate it, it wouldn’t make much sense to the naked eyes that only saw the remaining pieces and never get the chance to witness the beauty of the completion and harmony that lies in the form of crafts that you see with your own eyes. 

 Similarly, that’s how you feel about your boyfriend. 

 Not many people know him and you always had the impression that he was rather cold and closed off. That’s how he appears to the outsiders. The description of him from fellow classmates and his friends are drastically different because they never get to fully see what he is like as a person. 

 A person who is full of love to give to others, the one who dotes on others and is full of adventures. 

 Life with him is never boring, he brings a new kind of joy in your life. The kind of excitement that is dangerous, but you’ll let him lead you to go anywhere, even if it’s a thousand miles away. You trust him to keep you safe because never once had you been harmed or run into dangers.

 He instructs you to stand in front of him, you do so without a question. He pulls out a silky fabric and you already know what he wants to do– blindfolds you for the surprise. You let him as he carefully wraps the material around your eyes in a gentle manner to ensure that it doesn’t hurt you.

“Hold my hand and follow me.” He speaks to you softly and you nod your head. “I want to show you something.”

In a sight of darkness that is hard to break from, you let him guide you. He’s your light amongst all of this and you know he’ll never let you slip or stray away. With careful steps forwarding on the stairs and going up, further and further and then the floor feels smoother without the anxiety of reckoning,  it only takes a bit to finally realize you’re past the staircase.

 You feel like time freezes and you’re not sure how much time has passed by, although you think it’s not that much. It’s by far, the most anticipated thing for you. 

 Then you hold his hand tighter as he takes you in this unfamiliar place.

 You’re not the only one with so much adoration for your significant other. Your boyfriend is no different from you. 

 For Juyeon, being with you makes him feel like he’s in heaven. There’s no greater feeling than your presence around. 

 You heal a broken part of him that he didn’t know existed until you become the most cherished and frequent presence in his life, which is no doubt, loneliness.

 You’re calming, intelligent and intriguing. You’re an open book, but also, a mystery that he wants to keep uncover. He can lose himself in just studying about you and he wouldn’t care. You’re that someone to him who he trusts, with all of his life.

 When he inherited a motorcycle as a present from his parents in 11th grade, he usually rode it everywhere alone, even when he had friends. He discovered many fascinating locations, hearing every kind of life story from strangers whom he met on the road when he did his little exploring and witnessed people going through many stages of life. He used to watch people flirting and he wished that he had someone else to share his perspective and sightseeing with.

 You came along unexpectedly and stole his heart away. He can barely imagine a life without you now. The things you do to his heart is unhealthy. You’re the sole reason that his burning passion for life doesn’t become something he deeply despises. 

 The once cold seat of the motorcycle is now replaced by the warmth of you. And he wouldn’t want to have it in any other way. 

 He has seen many beautiful things that calm and heal his soul, but none of it were you.

 He thought beauty lies in the empty roads of complete darkness, or constellations and stars in the sky. But it’s clearly you, who is a Venus personified. 

 He’s in love and he’s not hiding it. 

 Which is why he wants to show you this view.

 By stopping in his track as he has reach the final destination, he reaches to slowly the blindfold off your eyes, all while tells you to still your eyes closed and only open under his command. 

 Both of you walk further and further away, with the help of Juyeon who guides you in the desired direction. Cold breeze hits you and you realize now that you’re most likely on the balcony and not in the secured walls of this building. 

“Open your eyes, baby.” 

 You let the light penetrate your vision as the skin that covers your seeing splits apart. 

 The view is breathtaking. 

 The sky turns into a light beat of deep orange, pale blue, deep pink and purple. You see the simplicity, the complexity and something so lively. 

 You see how the sky slowly turns itself into a pitch black, as the colors start to beautifully blend themselves, creating an unforgettable view that spreads through all across the universe from your own eyes. The wind blows slowly, as if to celebrate the magic of your shared happiness with him, which makes the moment even more unreal. 

 The lights that hang from there only intensifies its beauty. 

 You see polaroids of you both together being decorated, some you weren’t aware that the pictures were being taken. There are books and a table for dining that are put together like high end restaurants and you have no doubt that it wasn’t just a one day of work at all. 

“Happy 500 days anniversary.” He tells you, hand gently caressing you. “This house originally belonged to my grandpa. He has since passed it down to me.” He states so ever so softly and you’re shell shocked. 

“He told me that if I find someone special, I should bring them here. Because this house witnesses how my grandma and grandpa love each other and everyday is always special to them. For a long time, I didn’t understand what he meant because the idea of a lover that exists in a lonely person’s story doesn’t make sense. But I met you, my special person. I want this house to witness our love, too.” 

 You have tears brimming in your eyes as you listen to him speak further, all while his gaze lovingly settles on you and his thumbs wipe your tears. 

“I didn’t know what love was until I met you. When you’re away, I miss you. When you’re sleeping, I wish you’re awake so I can tell you some jokes that make you laugh.” 

“Me too.” You lose yourself into the warm brown eyes of his. “When I think about you, all my sadness disappears. It’s cliché, I know. But.. I think I’m so lucky to have you.” You choke on your own silent sob as he presses light kisses onto your lips.

“I’m so lucky to have you too.” He says truthfully. “I never believe in destiny, but I think we’re destined to love each other.” 

 And under the now moonlight that slowly shines onto you both, he cups your face and kisses you with all his might, as fireworks go off in the sky, as if to be a witness of this beautiful love story. 

 You don’t care for any of that as he whispers ‘I love you’ and you whisper one back too.

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2023

[magicbystarlight]

Venomous - Part Eight

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: A wife. A mother. A witch with someone else's name. That’s the life you didn’t want. So Tom offered you more.

Word Count: 3,494

Warnings: 18+, arranged marriage, a dash of paranoia, age gap relationship, assault, terrible parenting. Minors DNI.

A/N: "You fucker" has been echoing in my head for days.

Christmas came to Hogwarts with a flurry of festivity. Miniature trees decorated in House colors lined the tables of the Great Hall while their grander counterparts found homes in all the corridors and darkened corners throughout the castle. Snow had fallen continuously for days, only giving the briefest reprieve to allow the final Quidditch match of the semester the last Saturday before break. 

Abraxas had been there, as he had for every other match that had happened since the announcement of your engagement. In fact, he had been there for everything since your engagement. Every party Slughorn hosted and every Hogsmeade trip. He’d even taken over his father’s role on the Board of Governors to perform surprise inspections on the professors. Most didn’t mind, they had adored him as a student and his winning smile was difficult to overcome. It was only Professor Dumbledore who seemed to find issue with it.

“Ahh, Mr. Malfoy,” he had greeted one mid-November morning when Abraxas strolled in unannounced. “I was wondering when you’d be stopping my class. What a coincidence it also happened to be during Miss Selwyn’s period.”

Giggles and whispers had broken out around you.

“A coincidence indeed,” Abraxas had replied back easily, sending a cheeky smile your way. "It was the first time our schedules overlapped, seeing as you've been in France so often." 

Several hours later Dumbledore had summoned you into his office. He’d always been your favorite professor and you’d once had a decent rapport with him. But, much like with Rick, he’d been busy dealing with things related to Grindelwald recently.

“I would like to apologize,” he had said as he placed a cup of tea in front of you, “for this morning. I shouldn’t have made any mention of you to Mr. Malfoy. Especially in front of other students.”

The spoon stirred on its own after you added a dollop of milk and a single sugar cube. “It’s alright, Professor. You were just saying what everyone else has been thinking.” 

“Yes, I suppose I was. That’s actually what I wanted to speak with you about.” He sat on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms across his chest. “It seems there’s been quite a bit of talk about you recently. And I'm concerned.”

The cup paused at your lips momentarily before you forced yourself to sip. The warm tea did little to calm the rising anxiety. “If this is about my relationship with Abraxas, I can assure you he has been nothing but a gentleman." Not even a real kiss yet. 

He shook his head. "As outdated as your engagement may be, Malfoy is not the person I'm most concerned about."

The cup clinked loudly against the plate as you sat it down. “I'm sorry, I'm not following."

He sighed, his leg bouncing as he looked out a window. "I have heard that Tom Riddle has taken an interest in you recently."

You folded your hands into your lap, fingers twisting at the Malfoy heirloom on your finger. "Has he? Seems like poor timing on his part, considering." The rumors surrounding him and you had settled, people more interested in the abrupt engagement. But Tom still watched. Not as often or as overtly, just more maliciously. A snake stalking wounded prey, waiting for the chance to strike its final blow.

"Yes, it would appear so." His leg stilled. "But, I promised your brother I’d keep an eye on you and I feel that I must warn you Tom…he isn’t all that he appears."

You wanted to scoff. His warning had come months too late. Whatever gossip he'd heard was outdated.

But no one had ever warned you about Tom before. Abigail had disliked and discouraged associating with him, but that had been about his unknown blood status. Dumbledore's tone suggested something more sinister. You knew he was dangerous. But how did Dumbledore?

You couldn't stop yourself from leaning forward, voice lowered. "Is there something I should know, Professor? Has he done something?"

"No," he said, finally pulling his gaze off the window with a tight grin. "It's just an old man's intuition." The smile didn’t reach his piercing gaze.

The ghost of a hand gripped your throat, the cold anger in dark eyes seeping into the blue of Dumbledore's. He was going to kill you. He was going to kill you. No. No.

No.

You blinked, shaking your head as your back met the chair. He didn't kill you. He'd never have that chance again either. "You have nothing to worry about then. I have no interest in engaging in any sort of relationship with Tom Riddle." 

The conversation had been strange. In the end it left you with more questions about Tom and that sort of curiosity was dangerous.

Dumbledore's meeting had proved useful, at least. He understood an inquisitive mind and, with a simple promise of a future essay on whatever you found, you left his office with a note allowing nearly unrestricted access to the Restricted Section to research Old Magicks. 

Not that you found much time to use it. The future Mrs. Malfoy was in high demand. Gossiping gaggles of girls wishing to be seen as part of your circle. Boastiters bustles of boys who wanted to get in good with Abraxas. Predictably pompous packs of Purebloods who thought they were important enough to take up your time. Perhaps it wasn't fair to shove them all into such narrow groupings, but the sheer amount of them had become so overwhelming that it had was impossible to separate the individuals from the mob.

It was only now, the few hours between the final exam of the semester and the beginning of Christmas Break, that you'd managed to steal away to the library without notice. Books were skewed across tables, parchment splattered unceremoniously with notes in nearly illegible script of anything that could be useful for the future. Unlike the main library, the Restricted Sections held no catalog. It seemed a terrible oversight. Perhaps you could help Madam Gormount create one.

You were bent over a table, flipping through the index of another book you’d pulled off the shelf when soft footsteps broke through the silence. Muscles tensed as your eyes flew frantically to your wand that lay discarded two tables away. The steps grew closer and closer and you scrambled to it, your fingers grasping the wood just as a figure darkened the gaps of the shelves.                                           

"Little Bird?" Abraxas paused in the space between two shelves, eyebrows raised at the wand pointed at him.

"Brax," you breathed, dropping the wand back onto the table. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was you."

He chuckled. "I feel privileged to have been spared your wrath. From what Merrythought said, I can imagine the damage you would have done to some other poor soul who interrupted your studying."

"I was only going to incapac—" you cut yourself off and stared back at him in disbelife. "Have you been asking about my grades?"

He grimaced, having the decency to look ashamed of himself. "Once or twice."

"Perhaps I should start calling you my father rather than my fiancé," you teased as he joined you.

"Then I would be forced to tell you it is well past your bedtime, young lady," he retorted, pressing a kiss against your forehead. Your hair jostled as he laughed at you swatting his arm.

The rumors surrounding the engagement hadn’t been as egregious as they could have been thanks to your forethought, but there had still been whispers surrounding it. Some afraid you were being taken advantage of, others wondering what sort of blackmail you had to force Abraxas Malfoy into the arranged marriage. Those rumors were easy to refute without uttering a word. Abraxas, above all else, was your friend. Smiles came naturally, an ease between you that had been built through the years. Of course, that only led to rumors of an Imperious Curse or love potion. 

"Looking for your mysterious old magic?" he asked, eyeing the mess of books, parchment, and an ink bottle knocked over with its spillage dripping off the table.

Tapping your wand against the table, the mess began to right itself. Ink retreated back into its bottle. Parchment straigtened itself into a pile. Books closed. "In vain, so far."

“Perhaps we can spend some time in the library at the Manor over your break."

You gazed up at him fondly. "You certainly know how to woo a woman, Mr. Malfoy."

—

The silence was deafening as the compartment door slid shut. It had been weeks since you'd said more than a couple words in passing to Larissa and even longer since you had spoken to Abigail at all. You had been determined to make that even longer, but you'd come back from breakfast to find two small presents sitting on top of your trunk. Larissa had given a framed photo of the three of you from Third Year, smiling happily in a booth at The Three Broomsticks. A sweet momento of a happier time.

Abigail's gift was a romance by one of her favorite muggle authors. "A Marriage Not-So-Convenient." A gift had never made you laugh so hard before. Only Abigail would think to give a novel about an arranged marriage to apologize for her part in creating yours.

"I'm sorry," Abigail spoke quietly as you sat across from her.

"Me too," Larissa added.

You reached out and gripped their hands. "I'm sorry." That was all that needed to be said between you.

"I'll be with the Malfoy's for most of break, but I want a day for us in Diagon Alley. My treat, whatever you want."

"We can go look at wedding dresses!"

“Too soon, Issa,” Abigail scolded Larissa like she hadn’t gifted you a book about an arranged marriage this morning.

“It’s fine.” You squeezed their hands. “But I think we should save the dress shopping for summer. I need a day to be a normal eighteen year old.”

Abigail gave a sad smile. “Of course.”

“Are you going to tell us how it happened?” Larissa asked. “How it really happened.”

They must have heard the rumors. Of course they had. “He did it to protect me.”

“How roman—“ Larissa’s squeal was cut off by Abigail’s elbow to her side. “Ow!”

“It is romantic,” you said, leaning back into the seat. “Brax is…perfect. I’m almost glad this is happening.”

Abigail always knew you better. “Almost.”

Your eyes dropped to the ring that weighed heavily on your finger. A witch of someone else’s name. “Almost.”

—

“Don’t you think it a tad selfish, my dear, to deprive Abraxas of his wife for so long?” 

The grip on your drink tightened at the question. Velena Fawley lacked the skills many in her position as the Minister’s wife should have. Her hosting etiqutte left much to be desired, with her half drunk before half her guest had even arrived, but the most egrigious was her lack of subtletly in conversation. 

“Yes, it is nice for a young woman to have her education these days, but you certainly won’t need it.” A splash of her drink landed on your bare arm as her hands gestured mindlessly. “But a man, well, he has certain physical needs and unless you want him looking to others to fulfill them...”

You almost missed the days when you avoided these parties, (rightfully) frightened of Tom. At least you had  not been subjected to these sorts of interactions. Now and for the foreseeable future, however, these sorts of events would be completely unavoidable as Mrs. Malfoy. Abraxas had promised to stay by your side the entire night, but he'd been pulled off somewhere by someone minutes after your arrival and you hadn't seen him since. All evening you'd been pestered with talk of your engagement. Some were simple congratulations. Others were like Velena, questioning why the wedding needed to wait for schooling to finish when you were already of age. A few had already begun to blindly attempt to curry your favor.

The worst had been Cantankerus Nott, a widower with children older than Abraxas, who had expressed his displeasure at not having the opportunity to bid for your hand. A shiver ran down your spin remembering the way he’d leered. The teal gown you wore seemed too thin, too revealing under his gaze.

“—no one likes to think about their husband—or fiancé for you, I suppose, going off and getting it wet, but he very well could if you are forcing him to wait more than a year—“

“I appreciate your concern,” you cut in, unsure how much longer you could bear to hear her prattle, “it is an honor to have the Minister's wife of all people worry for me. But I have taken up too much of your time. So many of your wonderful, important guests must crave even a fraction of what you've given me.” 

She blinked several times, her alcohol addled mind needing a few more seconds to take in the words. Her eyes widened as she finally comprehended. "Oh, yes! I am the hostess, aren't I? Well lovely chatting with you dear!" Someone behind you caught her attention and she was off.

Navigating through the horde in the opposite direction, you kept your head down to avoid being stopped and dragged into another mind-numbing conversation. How anyone thought a political spectacle like this was a proper way to spend Christmas Eve you could never comprehend. 

Larissa had told you rather happily of her family’s traditions that involved only themselves, seasonal treats, and silly children’s games. Abigail rarely spoke of her home life, knowing neither you nor Larissa could quite understand the Muggle world she’d been forced to grow up in, but you recalled her fond smile once when she spoke about getting to help with a play every year. 

Downing what was left of your drink, you set the glass on one of the trays that floated by and scanned the room for a friendly face. A cousin from school hopefully. At least they'd gotten their fill of your engagement already. Instead it was your mother's disapproving glare you found.

The days you’d spent at Malfoy Manor hadn’t saved you from her presence and it seemed a party full of people wouldn’t either. “Enjoying yourself, are you?" she asked as you came to stand beside her. 

"It was rosewater."

Her contentious huff made you wonder if Velena had a point in being blissfully drunk. Perhaps then you could have some tiny enjoyment in your mother’s company. “I have not seen Abraxas with you since we arrived. Did he bore of you so quickly?”

You bit your tongue. Selene Selwyn, you'd realized recently, was bitter. Bitter at the life that had been forced on her, the man she had married, the children she did not want, the expectations put on her that were impossible to reach. She was bitter that she’d done the same to you, but you’d managed to secure the Malfoy heir while all she'd gotten was one of the Selwyns. 

“I’ve monopolized much of his time recently, he deserves some with his friends.” 

"Find him," she instructed, "people are already talking about him regretting the engagement." She leaned in and lowered her voice. "For once in your life don't embarrass this family." She left you with one last sharp look before pulling her face into a smile and walking off. 

Bitter old hag. You hated her. Gods, did you hate her.

The night's air stung as you stepped out of the party onto the balcony. During the summer and spring, it would be packed with people enjoying the view of the blossomed Fawley Garden. Few dared to brave it in the frigid temperature for the decayed scene it held now. Long, thin, shafts of light spilled across it from the half draped sets of glass doors that lined it, the rest of it barely lit by the sliver of waxing moon. In the darkness between two beams of the light, you rested your back against the stone railing. 

It had been a bitter discovery when you'd stepped off the train to find your mother with Abraxas. You'd expected to see her for a dinner or two, in passing at parties, for the annual New Year's Lunch with her parents, but that you'd be mostly free of her. You weren't. Your invitation to stay at Malfoy Manor during the holiday had been extended to her. The scrutiny you'd been under at Hogwarts was nothing in comparison to her's. Every insignificant detail of your appearance and interactions with Abraxas and his parents was nitpicked. Any free time you'd hoped to have with Abraxas perosing his library was thwarted by her desire to carve out the details of the wedding that didn’t even have a date set yet.

Even now, of age and engaged, your mother had control of everything. 

A familiar flash of silver blonde hair caught your eye. Your first sighting of your fiancé in hours. Vaguely familiar people of status and wealth surrounded him. If you stared long enough you could probably recall their names. You turned your back to the window to stare over the dead foliage instead.

In a few days you’d be with your friends. In a few more you’d be back at Hogwarts. There was a New Year’s Eve party you were meant to attend between then, but maybe Abraxas could be convinced to slip away early and enjoy the beginning of a new year tucked away in his library. All you needed was to get through the night. 

Two figures appeared with loud pops in the middle of the lifeless garden. It was one thing to be late to a party, but this late? You straightened trying to make out who they were, but they were too far and there was too little light. They walked quickly and their voices carried, but not enough to hear what they were saying or identify who they were.

You stayed hidden in the shadows until finally you could make out their faces. One was Theseus Scamander, Head Auror. The other was your brother.

“Rick!” You nearly tripped down the stairs as you ran to meet them and smashed into your brother. It had been so long, too long, since you’d seen him. You held him tight. And as his arms wrapped around you tears welled.

"Hey, kiddo," he said with a hitch in his voice. “I’ve missed you.”

More words caught in your throat, too overwhelmed to speak. Rick was here. A bit shaggier, his beard scratching against your scalp, but here. 

He pulled away too soon. 

“Why are you here? Weren’t you avoiding parties?”

 “I was.” Your fingers flexed at your side. “But I can't really do that anymore.”

Warrick’s brows knitted together, but his response was interrupted.

"I'm very sorry to cut this short, but we're already late." Thesesus gave a tight lipped smile.

He sighed as he checked his watch. "Right.” He squeezed your arm lightly. “We're here on business. But I’ll be by tomorrow and we’ll catch up then. Okay?”

He was already following his boss up the stairs. Their stride was much quicker than yours and you struggled to keep up. "Okay, but I'm not at home for break."

"Really? Mum finally let you stay at Hogwarts?” Blast his long legs. He was nearly at the top.

"No.” You caught yourself against the rail, tripped by your dress catching under your shoe. “I’m staying with Abraxas.”

He stopped. “Why?”

“Have you not read a single letter in the past few months?” You were more out of breath than you liked when you caught up with him. The emerald caught the moonlight as you held up your hand. “We’re engaged.”

Warrick stared at the ring. “Engaged?”

“Merlin, Rick! It’s all anyone’s been bloody talking about! I’ve written three times about it!”

He didn’t have the decency to apologize. Instead roaming his harsh gaze over the doors until he found what he was looking for. He set off without a word.

“Rick!” Theseus called, clambering after him. He tried grabbing his arm, but your brother slipped out of his grip easily.

You too scrambled after him, lifting your dress. You couldn’t quite understand what was happening, but you knew it was not good. “Rick, stop!”

He swung open a set of doors. People were shoved out of the way and a chorus of annoyance sounded. You got to the doors just in time to see him approach Abraxas.

"You fucker," Warrick thundered before pulling back his arm and smashing his fist into Abraxas' face.

Abraxas stumbled backwards knocking into more guests. Blood seeped out of his nose. 

Warrick raised his arm again. "My sister! My little sister! She's a child you sick—" His voice cut off and his entire body froze.

Theseus lowered his wand.

The sound of clicking followed a dozen flashing lights.

Next

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie @itsccc @bluegiraffeplushie

Venomous Tag List: @pearlsofme @fck-this @ambria @sheeple @strangunddurm @weirdowithnobeardo @emberenchanted

[its-toast-time]

I was thinking of what kind of a person Damian would be 10-15 years down the line and I accidentally created an OC group that I absolutely need to share bc I love them.

So I imagine that as Damian grows up, he mellows out in his own ways. He still talks very formally and has a semi-militaristic way of thinking but comes off more as a prickly introvert than a full blown assassin. At eighteen he’s more likely to glare at someone than stab them. Damian takes after Bruce in a lot of ways, he gains Bruce’s tall, wide build and complete inability to social interact. Sure, he can crush an interview or gala, but casual interaction? Forget it.

Damian goes to college away from home (not so far away he can’t visit, but far enough to be away from Gotham’s special brand of apeshit insanity). He decides to pursue becoming a veterinarian but mostly keeps to himself. He doesn’t talk to anyone, ever, unless absolutely necessary and even then it’s usually not more than 1-2 sentences.

Undergrad!Damian can be found usually in one of five spots: Class, Library, Dorm, Gym, or a cafe on the far end of campus. Now this cafe is mostly frequented by different arts majors. It’s a little hippy, but not enough to be trendy. It’s got somewhat decent food and drink, but not enough to be popular. The service isn’t great but the people who go there don’t really care. It’s mostly just a spot to work, be inspired, or lounge. Damian likes it because it’s quiet. He likes the constant scratch of sketching pencils, click of keyboards, and quiet mutter of people at work.

Damian picks a big table in a far back corner and claims it during his first week. One day, someone sits at the table with him. They don’t say a word, just hesitantly sit down with their work and sets it on the table. Damian glares at them and they meet his gaze. The two stand off for a little bit before Damian concedes to having company and goes back to whatever he was doing. The newcomer quietly does their work too. The two don’t speak, don’t acknowledge each other, just work in silence and leave.

It becomes a regular thing. They never talk, but they get used to each other. Slowly over the semester two or three more people show up. It’s basically the same process, sit down without a word, pass the silent vibe check, work at the table. By the end of the semester, they’re more or less an established group. No one has ever introduced themselves, Damian has no clue what any of their names are and he doesn’t care.

The next semester, they continue the same way. Damian quietly starts to note what classes they each work on and deduces they’re all in the same year. He also starts to take note of their regular orders. One week towards the end of the year, he has all of their drinks ready for them at the table. He’s met with a few surprised smiles and nods of the head. Maybe a raise of the cup in appreciation. It’s Damian’s small way of acknowledging them and solidifying for all of them that yes, they’re friends.

This kinda continues through the next 1-2 years. Each of them are kinda cut from similar cloth, introverted, socially inept, socially anxious, doesn’t really matter. At the end of the day they all suck at interaction and are perfect for each other because of that. They get to know each other from observing. They never quite get into having conversations per say, but people start talking. Someone breaks their silence one evening by saying there’s a good food truck two blocks away. It’s not a formal invitation, but everyone packs up their things and they go as a group anyway. Next time, someone at the table asks for an opinion on their palette for an assignment, they get a crisp, direct answer and move on. They all grow closer like this. Call and response conversations start to become common among them.

“Has anyone taken X class with X professor?” “Yeah, I hated it.” End of conversation.

“I’m going to see that ballet thing on Saturday.” “It’s supposed to rain that day.” End of conversation. All of them show up anyway, umbrellas in hand.

*eating skittles* “you know, most artificial red dyes are made from crushed beetles.” “Huh,” End of conversation.

*angry muttering* *curious noise* “fucking politics,” “oh yeah. Same.” *noises of agreement* End of conversation.

Sometimes there’s not even an interaction, someone just says something and no one feels the need to respond. It’s all good.

I’m sure some of the others in the group have other friends, maybe an SO or roommate, but all of them eventually come to the realization that their strange little group is special. They realize that they’d rather be at the cafe with their little group of people who can’t social interact than anywhere else.

By the time all of them are in Senior year, they have all mastered the art of having full conversations without actually saying very much at all. They “invite” each other out to stuff all the time, share news, have silent inside jokes, judge others, they’re a unit. If you see one of them and they aren’t busy, at least one more is nearby. Only… none of them know each others names. None of them have ever introduced themselves. If they know each others majors it’s because they figured it out based on their work. No one knows if anyone has siblings or where they’re from. Not a single one has had a conversation that was more than three minutes with any of them. They don’t even have each others phone numbers. Damian LOVES them. They’re his absolute best friends in the world.

His siblings are aware and after some light stalking are absolutely hyped for him. Dick dramatically grabs Damian by the shoulders while fake sobbing bc “My baby bird is all grown up! He’s got friends and everything! I’m so proud of you—“

Damian, horrified by his brother’s antics but also secretly enjoying the attention and absolutely delighted to be talking about his friends and filled with so much joy he thinks he found explode “Tt.”

Anyway, I love the idea of Damian making a group of introverted/socially inept people who gravitated towards one another. Bizarre little college kids.

I can’t tell what’s the funniest version of the identity reveal: Damian demanding their identities out of the blue to pay off their loans bc Dick said stalking is bad; Damian’s friends eventually recognizing him on TV/internet; all of them end up having Damian as their vet later in life and recognizing him; all of them becoming roomies and leaning each others names via lease contract/mail; or Damian having to protect his friends as a vigilante (they’re in Gotham for some reason post-college) them recognizing his build/voice/demeanor and it not actually mattering bc they still don’t know his civilian identity and all of them just having to accept that their buddy is Robin (or whatever he becomes as an adult).

[mozukumi]

it's a wummer wum-derland

Phineas is going through a bout of seasonal depression. His friends are there to help him out.

1K words. Read on AO3 or under the readmore. Comments much appreciated!

Phineas doesn’t know when this winter got so bad for him.

It wasn’t a problem when he was younger. He had always preferred the summer, but he didn’t hate winter or anything. He would still make the most of every single possible day.

Last year, though, things started to change. He doesn’t remember when it started then, either, but he began to feel a lot more lethargic and depressed during that winter. He didn’t think much of it, though. He was in his first year of high school - it was only natural for him to have been a bit moody, wasn’t it?

He didn’t think it was going to happen again this winter. It started out great, after all! He began December by celebrating Hanukkah with the Garcia-Shapiro family, which he greatly enjoyed. Next were his final exams for the semester, which… yeah, those weren’t fun, but it was a necessary evil. That finally led to the roughly 14 days of winter vacation which fell between Christmas and New Year’s – each of which were the best day ever.

The change had to have happened sometime in January, then. That’s the logical explanation. But he can’t remember when it started; maybe this wasn’t the sort of thing which started, instead being a gradual decline.

He supposes it doesn’t really matter how he got here, exactly. What does matter is this: it’s a Saturday morning in February and he doesn’t want to do anything.

He can barely believe himself. The whole day is ahead of him, just waiting to be seized! Yet he’s still wasting away in his bed. And that sort of thing is fine every once-in-a-while (the do-nothing day is a yearly tradition he quite enjoys). But it’s not like he’s choosing to relax and take it slow. He desperately wants to carpe his diem.

But he just can’t do it.

He’s snapped out of his wallowing by a knock at the door. It’s Ferb, peeking his head in. An is eyebrow raised and a question is implied: what are we gonna do today?

“Sorry, Ferb, I’m - I’m not really feeling up to anything today,” he admits. And he hates himself for it, because he really should just push through this. All of his friends were available to hang out today - and with their busy high school schedules, that was getting so much rarer. He wishes he could take advantage of it.

Ferb nods, then walks over to his bedside. He tilts his head ever-so-slightly, and if Phineas is reading his body language correctly…

“You’re right, it has been a rough couple of weeks for me,” he says. “Not like anything happened, it’s just, ah…”

“You’ve got a case of the winter blues?” Ferb suggests.

“Yeah, I guess that’s right,” Phineas says. “I don’t want to keep you - say hi to the gang for me, okay?”

Ferb gives him a thumbs up, although Phineas didn’t need any confirmation from his brother. A reminder that he could count on Ferb was like a reminder that water was wet: completely unnecessary.

-

A couple of hours later, his phone began to ring. It was one of his customized ringtones – a 8-bit version of Gitchee Gitchee Goo – which meant the caller was…

“Isabella,” he says, hoping he didn’t sound too groggy. He had just woken up from his nap minutes earlier. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good! But I was really calling to ask about you. Are you feeling well enough to come down to the backyard for a few minutes?”

He thought about it. He was feeling a little bit better. Not enough to participate in a Big Idea, but well enough that he could come say hi and see what his friends were working on. “Yes, yes I am. I’ll get changed into my snowgear-”

“No need,” she interrupts, her tone a bit forced. “It’s… it’ll be fine! You don’t need to get out of your pajamas. Just come on down.”

“If you insist,” he says. He’s sure it’ll make sense soon. “I’ll be there soon.”

With that, he hangs up his phone and makes his way downstairs. It isn’t a long trek, but it’s just enough time to make him consider what the gang is up to. It can’t be anything open to the general public, since they told him not to bother changing. So it had to be a more personal project.

By the time he reaches that conclusion, he’s already at the front door. He steps out into the backyard, and -

It’s warm and it’s sunny.

That’s the first thing he notices. After all these months of overcast weather, the feeling of heat on his skin was almost alien. There was still snow on the ground, but it didn’t freeze his bare feet. Instead, it was just pleasantly cold. All around him, his friends begin to sing a familiar tune:

It’s a Wummer Wum-derland Unusual and grand Yeah, it’s anything but bland Because it’s Wummer (Bum bum, bum bum) Talkin’ ‘bout Wummer (Bum bum, bum bum) It’s so Wummer (Bum bum, bum bum)

Their cheer is infectious, and pretty soon Phineas is grinning from cheek to cheek. His eyes begin to water. “You guys, this is so… you’re the best friends ever, you know that?”

“Yeah, I am pretty aweso-”

“Do not ruin this moment, Buford,” Baljeet says under his breath, but Phineas can still very clearly hear him. Did he think he was being discreet…? Well, he’s not going to point that out.

“You always do all this amazing stuff for us, Phineas,” Isabella says, her voice soft. “Like, it’s pretty ridiculous how much you do. And I love- I mean, we love all that you do for us. But we want to take care of you too sometimes.”

“Since light therapy is an effective treatment for Seasonal Affective Disorder, Buford proposed that we rework a classic idea in order to cheer you up,” Baljeet says.

“Wait, Buford?

“Hey, I was at S’Winter! It was a non-speaking cameo, but I was still there!”

Phineas decides to not ask any clarifying questions - Buford said stuff like that all the time. Better to let it pass.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s really not enough. The two words are hardly enough to express his gratitude at the gesture. But for now, it’ll have to do.

[yume-x-hanabi]

So, bit of a life update because it's been... almost two months? since I last properly logged here (I had some stuff in the queue, but I think it ran out after a while, woops). Getting a bit personal, so the rest is under cut.

Honestly the main reasons are simply, I'm busy, and exhausted. Not a good combination lol

I haven't had proper relaxing time for me since at least a year and a half. Summer holidays are supposed to be the time when I can finally relax responsibility-free for a month and a half to get over usually hectic second semesters. Except last July my grandma had a fall, and while she's fine, long story short she's now in a nursing home and we spent the whole summer and lots of free time during the following months clearing her house (which was. a mess).

On top of that I'd bought an apartment (yay) in a building that's still under construction, and while that's great because it means I could customize it the way I want, it also meant spending a lot of time going here and there to choose floorings, furniture, and lots appointments (bank, notary...) etc etc. And now that it's in the final stage we're running into issues because the notaries aren't agreeing about some conditions, so the deed signing date recently had to be postponed, which'll leave me very little time to schedule the actual move (I have to be out of my current place by the end of the month). Super stressful. And also busy--spent nearly two days last week playing telephone game with the developer, the notary's office, the bank... and we still haven't solved the issue as of now orz

On top of that, this past school year has been super intense, I took on more admin responsibilities, which, while fun, consume a lot of time and focus, which put me behind on my regular class prep and grading, which just generally added to the mental load. Also I had to take lessons on Saturday mornings for my teaching certificate, which is also something that ate into my time and energy this year.

This all kinda came crashing down on me in early June when I just... kinda shut down for about two weeks. I had 4 super important tasks/projects to do, and for those two weeks I made progress on none of them. I just kinda froze, not knowing where to start, and my focus was allllll over the place, could not keep it on one thing for the life of me (there may or may not be suspicion of adhd at play, I'll have to look into it more and see someone about it, but... no time atm orz)

I managed to pull through in the end (well, one of the things is postponed to August so I have more time to do it thankfully), but I'm completely mentally exhausted. So yeah, I kinda gave up checking tumblr for a while, bc I just didn't have the mental capacity for that.

In happier news Missy is still as silly as ever, my niece is the cutest, I got a baby blahaj yesterday to go with my big one, Dreamcatcher's new mini-album is wonderful, and once everything is solved and I can move in it'll be awesome to live in my own place. Also I went to TwoSetViolin's world tour show in Berlin last week-end and it was awesome :D (might make a separate post about it later)

And now I need to start packing. Gonna be a busy month again 😅

[betterpathoflyfe]

Life Update Thus Far - 4/18/24

Sooooo…

One thing I said in my last blogpost (and in multiple previous blogposts…) is to get consistent with my posts again! To be intentional about these blogposts and rededicate myself to building this website further.

That being said, here we are! For the rest of the month of April, I am committing to posting a blogpost once a week. My goal is to post on a consistent timeline, like have one posted every Thursday, but since we only have one more Thursday left, I’m going to at least post twice more in the month.

Nevertheless…we are here. And MAN! I’m like, do I even know how to write life updates anymore lol? I’ve been focused on being more private with my life, and in turn, more intentional with my time.

But I’ll give a glimpse of life, as many things have been occurring:

We recently wrapped up our pre-registration period at University, where we assist our freshmen in creating and finalizing their schedule for next semester. We have to make sure students are approved for registration, and considering that my caseload is about 175 students currently…you can imagine the amount of meetings and walk-in hours that needed to happen. And on top of this, the amount of documentation that needed to occur.

Lord have mercy 😭

When I first began this position, I started with half a caseload of 86 students. So you can imagine how different it was this Spring when this number almost doubled in size!

But…we made it through. By God’s grace, we made it through 😭

So now, things are beginning to slow down, and it has allowed me to restructure some things in life and re-prioritize certain habits I want to get back on track with (e.g., writing, journaling, reading, & being more intentional with my time in His presence).

Like I’ve truly been…drained and tired, and the foundation of this is my feeling of things becoming out of control because I’m not having, or making, time to spend with Jesus! Therefore, this past Saturday, we’ve been able to slowly but surely restart and get back on track with Him.

I suppose the real test is to maintain this level of commitment, even when things get a bit overwhelming, or when trials come — to still make sure I am keeping Him first. A balance, truly!

I want to delve a bit more into those habits for a second as well, because I am determined to maintain a consistent habit in my evenings — as of late, I’ve literally been coming home and going to SLEEP! My body has truly been tired. Yet, in that same breath, before sleeping, I end up winding down, but winding down through the means of my phone. And then I get shocked when I feel more drained in the morning, when I feel like I am behind, when I feel like I am truly wasting time. Therefore, after speaking with my mentor about different things, I realized that I truly did need a plan, especially when we are on this path of self-improvement. This plan includes the following:

Writing — I truly want to get consistent in my blogposts. I have had a whole schedule of what I plan to write for…a while. But I really want to continue making this website more well-rounded as opposed to only having reblogs or quotes, you know?

Journaling — I used to be very consistent with this, but with this job, I’ve had little to no time to process some of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Therefore, to get back in the habit of journaling, I am committing to journaling as consistently as possible during this month

Reading — The way that I keep buying new books…with many that I still haven’t read? It is true when they say that buying more books without reading the current ones is a hobby lol. But I want to begin a goal of reading, at minimum, 10 pages a day. Especially with this book that I have had for a minute — Good Boundaries & Goodbyes, by Lysa TerKeurst

Being Intentional With Christ — my mornings with Christ are really sacred to me, and it’s always evident when I haven’t spent time with Him in a while (e.g., begin feeling overwhelmed, behind, significantly tired, detached, etc.). Therefore, this more so serves as a reminder to get back on track with Him.

So yeah! As of today, we’ve been very consistent and it’s truly allowed me to refocus, regroup, and re-priortize. I’m grateful :)

“I can trust You with my future because You are already there.” ~ @petitefleurist

~ May the Author

[flashlight-smallknife]

Realizing I just finished a quest I started in March 2022 in November 2023 holy shit I am sobbing in bed at 8 AM on a Saturday

When The Wonder Years announced they were touring Suburbia and The Upsides last spring, I bought tickets to see the show three times: twice over grad school spring break and a third time two weeks later on a weekend in Philly. I have regularly cited both albums for saving my life when I was a teenager, I saw them play songs off both albums at my first ever GA concert when I was 14, and they remain two of my favorite albums of all time. I had never seen a tour more than once like that before, but I revisited both albums heavily throughout the pandemic and was desperate to see the show as many times as possible.

I was determined going in that by seeing these albums live again, I would fully self-actualize and magically heal my inner child. I ran into a few problems. First, I attended these shows under a lot of stress because I was about to flunk out of grad school the semester I was supposed to graduate. Second, things didn’t always go smoothly (an incorrect hotel booking, a speeding ticket, annoying guys around me, friends getting hurt, etc). Third, I was barely in physical shape to withstand the crowds at these shows. Finally, I realized by the second show that I had evolved a little since I was fourteen and actually preferred the songs openers Spanish Love Songs and Origami Angel were playing. All of this triggered a series of existential crises that sort of clouded the whole “healing my inner child” thing.

Anyway, I went to another thirty or so shows in the twenty or so months after that, with about 25% of said shows being TWY headliners. Somewhere along the way I became the best version of myself: the kind of person who brings the energy I wish to see in the mosh pit, the kind of person who gives the opener and headliner the same respect, the kind of person who throws crowd surfers over the heads of teenagers, the kind of person who has no problem having someone thrown out for making the people around them feel unsafe, and the kind of person who will spend my last spare $30 for the week making sure touring bands have gas money. I got into the best physical shape of my life and made friends with strangers in every major city in a 7 hour radius.

All of this was finally self-actualized during the Spanish Love Songs set in Charlotte when I formed an entire hype squad of strangers after being the most impassioned SLS fan in the pit and deciding to bring my own joy, thus literally living out the message of their most recent album No Joy.

I realize now that the person I am and the person I’ve always wanted to be are the same person, and also that the person I wanted to be was inside of me all along. I am in the trenches, holding space for myself and others, screaming, nervous, and deliberately choosing to have a good time amidst the chaos. The only difference now is that I know I don’t have to change who I am to be liked or accepted by others, and that I am perhaps most likable when I am being true to my authentic self.

I’ll probably always be healing from a childhood of rejection and neglect from my mother, but in a lot of ways, I feel like I finally accomplished what I set out to do during the Suburbia/Upsides tour. I’m not sad anymore, for real this time.

(PS - my love of all things emo was pretty aggressively used against me as a kid, and I think it’s fucking hilarious that becoming actively more emo is what ultimately cured my depression)

[ellewritesalright]

Nine Long Years - Part 4

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Part 3 --- Masterlist --- Part 5

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Note: Hi there! This one is a little nicer and less sad so hope you enjoy. Next part won't be out for a while I'm afraid. I've got a lot of work to do as the semester is almost done so I gotta grind w that.

Warnings: mentions of death, angst but also fluff, unconsciousness, blood, mentions of sickness, panic attacks, firepox, mentions of the Hertzoon con.

Word Count: 5,570

..........

FOURTH YEAR 

It was getting easier to pretend to be newlyweds. Every second spent with Nikolai kissing your hand or resting a palm against your waist only served to endear you to him, especially when he would grin at you like a schoolboy. You were still masquerading as the Ivanovs, Pytor and Ilse, and you called each other such when in the company of strangers. But when you were alone, no matter how weird it felt, you started calling him Nikolai.

It happened because of an inquiry he made on the road to the village you were currently stationed in. He glanced at you from under his cap, a curious smile playing at his lips.

“Why do you keep calling me Sturmhond?” he asked.

"What else would I call you?" You retorted.

"My real name, perhaps?"

"Doesn't sound right," you said. "Sturmhond suits you."

"You're not wrong, but remember what I told you when you found out?"

"Sturmhond at sea, Prince Nikolai in Ravka.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you really want me to call you 'your Highness' now? Even though we're miles and miles and a gargantuan Shadow Fold away from Os Alta?"

"No need for that formality. Just Nikolai will do." He smiled at you. "Except when we're around others. We have appearances to keep up, you know."

So, despite how difficult it was and how odd it felt, you called him Nikolai when the two of you were alone.

At present, his cap was tucked low over his face, trying to hide the changing colour of his eyes. He was more different every day, and you took the quiet of dinnertime as an opportunity to look him over. His jaw and mouth remained the same, though you doubted they had been tailored in the first place; his nose was straightening ever so slightly, but it still looked like he had seen his fair share of fighting; his hair had all but turned blonde, save for a few red highlights; and now his eyes were becoming murky. You hadn't figured out their real colour yet, but you thought maybe they would be a dark gray or a chocolate brown. 

Whatever they were, they would undoubtedly complement his admittedly handsome face.

"Lost in my eyes, my dear?" He asked, catching your stare.

You cleared your throat, eyes darting away. Honesty might be best in this situation. "Just wondering what colour they really are."

You had no qualms saying this aloud as your dinner was a picnic at a secluded park on the edge of town. There was hardly anyone around, and the closest people were far from being in earshot. 

"In that case, I think I'll leave you in suspense," he said.

"If that's what you want." You combed your fingers through the grass beneath your hands. "Tell me again when we should meet Tamar and Tolya."

He received a message that afternoon through an informant in his network. The twins were safe in Novokribirsk, somewhere you were supposed to be very soon if your navigator–Nikolai–would have a bit more focus on the destination and not the journey.

"No later than Saturday," he said, sprawling out in front of you. When he laid his head in your lap you rolled your eyes. “They’re staying at one of my associate’s homes. We’re to meet them there.”

It was Thursday now, and you had been without the twins for a week, not a couple days as Nikolai had initially said. You missed Tolya's bear hugs and Tamar's quick wit. Nikolai was a decent stand-in for both of them, though your relationship with him felt different from your relationship with the twins. You would never go to Tolya for comfort like you would with Nikolai, and Tamar's teasing and jokes didn't get on your nerves unlike those of a certain privateer prince. Additionally, if either twin wanted to rest their head in your lap you would have accepted them with a smile, but you only felt a quick bout of cynicism for Nikolai.

His eyes were shut, and you figured he must still be tired from comforting you the other night. He looked peaceful, like he could be content laying there forever. A strand of half-red-half-golden hair peeked out from his cap, begging for attention as it splayed across his forehead. You tucked it back into the brim with delicate fingers, tracing along the bottom of his cap. When your hand dropped he opened his eyes in a languid sweep. His smile was soft.

“Read to me?” he asked, his hand fumbling for the basket where the Old Ravkan book was waiting.

In all your boredom the two of you had already finished the book and started it over. You were halfway through, and you held the light, malleable book in one hand as you lost yourself in the words. Your other hand was resting beside you until Nikolai brought it close to him, his fingers dancing across your palm, twisting the ring--his ring--on your finger and interlocking his digits with yours.

A feather-light brush of something against your knuckles made you lose your focus as you reached one of the more interesting parts of the story. You expected to grow angry at him for making you pause, but when you glanced down and saw him grazing your hand against his lips you didn’t know what to feel.

He had kissed your hand before in a crowded town square or during dinner at a pub, but it was only ever when you were in public, only to keep up appearances. This was different. There was no one around, no one to be suspicious of two people in a park, so why was he being so affectionate? 

Of course, it was obvious why. Nikolai liked you. He had expressed this to you on several occasions, but you had always brushed him aside. His feelings were there, a shadow behind every single one of his actions, even when he was being less obvious. There were the winks and flirtations, but then there were the times he gave you a genuine smile, told you to keep safe when you had to be apart, or held you close as you sobbed into his shoulder. He was quietly expressing his fondness on the regular.

Perhaps--in your own way--you’d done the same. You straightened out his cap, made him button his jacket to the top to keep away the autumn chill, and read to him in your shared bed each night. But those were all completely normal things, you were sure of it.

You knew how he felt about you, but you didn’t know how to feel about him anymore. Worse still, if you felt some kind of affection for him, what could you do about it? Your extended reprieve from the Volkvolny didn’t change the fact that he was captain and you were his second. It would be wrong to start a relationship with him.

And then there was the fact that--above all--Nikolai was a prince. He had duties that he would one day have to return to, and there was no place for you in his life when he did.

But the more you thought about being with him the more right it felt. 

That realization scared you more than anything else, but you couldn’t stop it from spreading like weeds in a garden. Some weeds are quite pretty, a voice in your mind argued.

He looked up at you with those murky eyes, a hint of interest in his brow. “Why have you stopped reading, my dear?”

The pet name was an unintentionally cruel stroke, a sweet utterance that only added insult to injury. You pulled your hand from his and began packing things in the basket. “It’s getting late,” you said. “We should go back to the inn before nightfall.”

“I didn’t think you were scared of the dark,” he teased, sitting up to help you. There was a worry in his voice even if he tried to cloak it in humour. He knew your secrets now, your past, and he might have thought that had something to do with your eagerness to sleep with a roof over your head, but that was far from your mind at that moment. 

You weren’t scared of the dark, only what could happen in it. People lost their wits at night, got swept up in any hint of tenderness, and you were determined that it wouldn’t happen to you. 

When you got back to the inn you went to sleep on the edge of the bed, keeping your distance from him. He noticed it–because saints knew he always noticed everything–but he made no mention of it. He kept to his side, and you kept to yours. Simple.

……….

On most days, there wasn't much to do in these Ravkan villages, but–luckily for you and Nikolai–one of the days you were stuck happened to fall on a fete celebrating Sankta Lizabeta. The village you were stopped in had bright, floral decor, and children crowded in front of a travelling puppet show. Nikolai insisted that the two of you watch the puppets perform, even going so far as to hold your hand so that you would remain with him. He flashed you a smile as you leaned against him to get a better view through the crowd.

The puppets were ridiculous, and you grew confused as you tried to follow whatever grandiose plot they were trying to convey, yet the children packed at the front of the crowd seemed entertained. Leaning against Nikolai was necessary to stave off the weariness that accompanied this convoluted story.

It was once you rested your head against him that he whispered to you. "Are you tired? We can go to our room and rest."

"I'm fine," you said. "I just have no idea what the puppets are trying to say."

He chuckled. "It's the story of Sankta Lizabeta."

Nikolai muttered narration into your ear as the puppets kept on, and he drew some smiles from you with his commentary.

"Understandably, Lizabeta was pissed, so she thought 'bees will solve all of my troubles.'"

"Never mess with a woman and her bees."

"Quite an overreaction on the northern village's part. They should've just understood that summoning bees isn't a party trick."

The show finished and Nikolai tipped the performers with a shiny coin, then you took your leave.

It was a small village, but the walk down to the inn was not brief, especially not when Nikolai was taking his sweet time–no wonder you had yet to make it to Novokribirsk. He still had his hand in yours, and he made you trail along with him as he strolled down a hill. You felt a nagging sense to pull at him or drop his hand and go ahead without him, but you didn't. 

It might have been his slow pace that landed you in trouble. Or it could have been the fact that he was distracted. He was once more bringing your hand to his lips, his stare on your face as he pressed a quick kiss to your skin. Then he kissed your hand again, this time for a moment longer. He was testing the waters, seeing how much he could get away with before you made him stop. He had barely pressed his lips to the inside of your wrist when you heard it. 

The clambering of rickety wheels came suddenly. A carriage with no horse or rider came burning down the hill towards you. Nikolai glanced back, noticing its descent a split second before you did. In the moment he acted as quickly as he could, shoving you to the side of the path. 

He couldn't move himself fast enough, though, and the carriage struck him. He was knocked beneath it, smack dab between the wheels, and it continued on without crushing him, thank the saints. The carriage was gone by the time you rushed to his side.

Nikolai was sprawled on the ground, his eyes shut. He wasn't moving. 

There was a familiarity to the situation as you kneeled over his unconscious body. The smell of death creeped up your nose and into your head, muddying your thoughts.

But now was not the time for death. You fought off a sob as you shook his shoulders, trying to rouse him awake. When that was unsuccessful you felt for a pulse that could not be found, watching to see if his chest was rising and falling. It wasn't.

Years ago, when you were a sailor on a few trade ships before the Volkvony, you had witnessed otkazat'sya sailors revive people who had almost drowned by pumping their hands against the unconscious person's chest and breathing into their mouth. That sort of thing wasn't necessary on the Volkvolny because of the corporalniks; they could start a person's heart with the wave of a hand.

You were not Grisha, though, so you would have to help Nikolai the otkazat'sya way.

Laying one hand over the other on his chest, you began pumping with quick and hard motions. You kept a focused eye on his face, checking for any twitches of life. After thirty pumps, you bent over his face, plugging his nose and breathing into his mouth. It wasn't how you imagined being this close to him for the first time, but you did it nonetheless, giving him two large breaths.

You were no stranger to death. It seemed to dog your life, stealing your parents and brothers from you without hesitation. What you had done to warrant such grim circumstances, you didn't know. Maybe you were an abhorrent person in another life. Maybe the saints decided to torment you for their own entertainment. You couldn't explain why death always accompanied you, but today you were determined to banish it. Nikolai wasn't going to die on your watch, you wouldn't let him. You kept pumping.

Every second that he lay unconscious you got more desperate, your hands pressing harder and harder as you tried to restart his systems. You pushed back his cap as you bent to breathe into his mouth again. His golden hair shone atop of his head, the red completely gone. There was a cut on his forehead just above his eye that was slowly bleeding, but you couldn't bother with it now. Your vision was clouding with tears and you blinked them away as you kept on. They dripped on his cheek as you breathed into his mouth again. Then it was back to pumping.

"C'mon," you said, more to yourself than to the man before you. "You can't leave me now." Your arms were starting to tire, but you kept on anyways. "Nikolai, you stupid, impossibly aggravating prince, wake up."

His body jolted, and then he was coughing, his eyes crinkling as his face scrunched up in discomfort. A weight lifted off of you and you pulled him into your arms, squeezing him tight. He grunted at the ferocity of your grip and you eased up, muttering a quick apology.

"Thank the saints, you're alive," you said, kissing the crown of his head in a moment of relief. 

"I didn't know... you cared so much about me," he rasped.

He struggled with his breathing a bit, the wind knocked out of him, but it was good to know that the accident had not knocked the humour out of him. You let yourself chuckle at his joke, pressing another kiss to his head. 

"Never scare me like that again," you ordered, rubbing your eyes. He noticed this and grabbed your hand. 

As though he wasn't just nearly crushed to death, he continued where he left off during your walk, bringing his lips to the inside of your wrist in a soft kiss. 

"Yes, dear," he said.

You used your sleeve to dab at the bloody cut on his forehead. It wasn't too deep, but it would need to be cleaned properly once you got back to the inn. He gave you a smile. "You're improving."

"What do you mean by that?" 

"You're getting better at saving my life."

You frowned. "I shouldn't have to improve at that."

He only hummed in response, shutting his eyes and leaning more of his weight against you. "I think you bruised my ribs."

"I save your life only for you to complain? Next time I'll leave you alone, then."

"But what would you do without me?"

"Relish in the return of quiet."

"Sounds boring."

"Sounds peaceful."

He winced as you helped him sit up, and you wished you'd been blessed with the abilities of a corporalki healer so that you could make his pain vanish like a street magician with a coin. He was barely sitting by the time another carriage came along, this time with a horse and driver. with its open top and drab rectangular shape, it was really more of a cart. It stopped beside you, the driver peering down at you two with pity in his eyes. Half a dozen tiny heads leaned over the side of the cart to stare at you in fascination.

"The carriage that hit your husband probably belonged to old man Arkezny. He never ties up his horses, then they get loose and his carriage takes off whichever direction it pleases," the man said after you told him of your accident. "You can come with us. We pass the inn on our way home."

The driver and his rambunctious children had been at the fete all day, all of them watching the puppets just as you had. Nikolai made conversation with the litter like a professional, even despite the injuries that had him leaning against you as though you were a sturdy column; you were neither, and every time the cart lurched you could feel him tense up in pain, though he did not show it on the outside. He kept laughing with the children and telling them stories about sailing--under the pretense that Pytor Ivanov was a merchant sailor, not a privateer called Sturmhond.

When you arrived at the inn you thanked the kind man profusely, and he merely smiled in return and headed home with his family.

Despite the subtle pain you saw on his face, Nikolai made no complaints as you helped him to your room and made him lay back in bed. You borrowed some supplies from the innkeeper then fetched a bowl of warm water and a cloth for his wounds. Nikolai was patient as you sat beside him and cleaned up the blood from his forehead, employing what little experience you had soothing your brothers' various cuts and scrapes.

"You're wonderful, did you know that?" He grinned at you as you dabbed along his cut.

You only hummed in response, forcing yourself to focus on your work and not get caught on his words.

"Truly," he drawled, "you're wonderful, clever, and kind." Nikolai reached for your hand as it swept the last bit of blood. You met his soft stare. "And you're the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"Nikolai," you tsked quietly, as though in a weak admonishment.

He interrupted before you could state your point. "I like when you say my real name."

"Did that carriage give you a concussion?"

He chuckled. "No, rather the opposite. I'd say it knocked some sense into me."

He played with your fingers, traced along his ring that was still on your hand. You hadn't taken it off once since he slipped it onto your hand in that pub; you even kept it on as you slept. He smiled at it, his eyes glancing up at you.

You realized then how close you were as you sat there beside him, leg pressed against his and his fingers entwined with yours. You could feel his breath lightly warming your face, creeping down your neck and making your chest flood with heat. The heartbeat in your ears was louder than the whip of wind when the Hummingbird was in mid-air.

Nikolai leaned forward slightly, getting even closer to you in a movement that would have made his injuries sting. But he didn’t show any pain, he was only staring at your lips with hooded eyes. His hand went to your face, his thumb tracing along the apple of your cheek in featherlight strokes. And when he spoke it was a whisper.

"Tell me to stop," he begged. "Swear at me in Kerch. Call me a fucking scoundrel again. Please."

"Isn't this what you want?" Your voice was so breathless you felt you ought to be ashamed. But you weren't. Cold shame didn't bother you when you were burning under his vulnerable eyes and the slight press of his thigh against yours.

"It is," he said, searching your face. “Saints, it is. But I need to know you want this too.”

You took a second to look at him. He was already quite a handsome man, but he was a beautiful, devilish sight with his cheeks flushed and pupils blown out. You wanted to remember this moment; if only you could capture the air between you and decorate yourself with its passion again and again.

But you took too long to respond, and he pulled away. He hardly dropped his hand and turned his chin before you grabbed his face and kissed him. It was tender, if quick, and you were pleased to find that Nikolai's lips were as delicate as you'd imagined them to be.

"I want this too," you said as you briefly pulled apart. "More than anything."

"You've no idea how happy I am to hear that."

He grinned, pulled you close, and kissed you again. He held your kiss for longer, and when you pulled apart he kept you close still, his forehead pressed to yours. You took a second to look at his eyes, noting how they’d settled into a green and brown mixture. You never would have guessed they would turn out hazel.

“Your eyes are very nice,” you said quietly.

He smiled bashfully, his forehead slipping from yours as he bowed his head in a modesty you’d never seen from him. “Thank you.”

“And your hair…the blonde suits you.”

His cheeks grew rosy. “What else do you like about me?”

You traced a finger along his lips. “I quite like these.”

“That’s good, 'cause I think they go quite well with these,” he said, his thumb brushing along your mouth.

“I think so too,” you said. “Though I will say, your mouth can be impossibly irritating sometimes.”

He leaned back, meeting your eyes. "So far you've called me an idiot, a twat, impossibly irritating, and a fucking scoundrel. It's a good thing I like you, else I could have you locked in a Ravkan prison for saying such treasonous things."

You swept a hand through his hair, pecked a kiss on the tip of his nose. "I never said anything you didn't deserve."

"Perhaps." He flashed a diplomatic smile. "I may need an apology though. My pride is a bit bruised.”

“Will a kiss suffice?”

He hummed, gently thumbing at your lips again. “Only one way to find out.”

……….

It took another day in the village for Nikolai to recover, but once he was more mobile and not completely dependent on you, you continued your journey to Novokribirsk. It took all day with one stop for lunch, but you finally made it to the city.

You had a cheery reunion with the twins. Tolya gave you the tightest hug you’d ever experienced, and Tamar laughed as she brought you in as well. She was a little more gentle, but only a little. They both missed you, and they missed Nikolai of course. They didn’t squeeze him quite as tight as you warned them of his injuries. 

“We’ll have him fixed up after dinner,” Tolya said, poking at Nikolai’s gold hair. He looked at you. “Quick thinking with the manual heart pumping, Rietveld.”

You nodded your thanks, and the four of you made your way to get food. Nikolai and Tolya fell into step beside one another ahead of you and Tamar stuck beside you, updating you about what she and her brother got up to while you’d been separated. They seemed to do pretty well by themselves, but she said they missed you and your shared captain as the trifles of sibling life drove her up the wall a couple of times.

“And how about you two, how did you fare?” she asked.

You blinked at her. “Fine. Yeah, it was fine.”

“That’s good,” she said, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“Rietveld!” Nikolai cheered over his shoulder. “Tolya doesn’t believe that there was a fete at the town we stayed in the other day.”

“I only said I couldn’t believe you let me miss it!” Tolya defended himself. “I love a good fete, especially a fete for saints. They always have the best food.”

“Well, I promise you didn’t miss much,” you told the heartrender.

“Only my near-death.” Nikolai gave you a teasing pout that evaporated into his shimmering grin. You quickly glanced at Tolya, spotting an odd look he threw to his sister. “And a rather fun puppet show. But otherwise, I agree with my second.”

You watched Nikolai turn back around and continue a new topic with Tolya, listening as best as you could from your slight distance, but enjoying the prattle nonetheless. He looked back at you a few times, smiling brighter than the sun every time he did.

You didn’t notice how long you kept staring at Nikolai until Tamar let out a scoff from beside you. When you snapped your head to her she gave you a suspicious look. 

"What, is there something on my face?" You asked. 

"Actually, yeah," she said, and laughed when you rubbed at your cheek. "Saints, Rietveld, I only meant to point out that you're grinning."

"Am I not allowed to grin?"

"You're allowed. But it's a little funny that you're grinning at the same time that your heart is beating incredibly loud. Even more funny that both these things happen whenever your travel companion up there glances back at you."

You pursed your lips. "He's looking back at both of us, just making sure we're all still together."

"I assure you, he's not looking at me." She tilted her head at you, lowering her voice just a touch more. "Did something happen between you two?"

"No."

"Your heart skips when you lie."

"Tamar," you whined.

She raised her hands. "I don’t judge. If something happened–perhaps something romantic–I'm happy for you, both of you."

The arrival at a restaurant halted the conversation, but you gave an appreciative press of your hand to Tamar’s shoulder.

……….

After dinner the four of you stayed with the associate of Nikolai's. But your host only had two free single beds, which you insisted Tamar and Tolya take. That left one couch and a few blankets on the floor of the living room for you and Nikolai, but neither of you minded; there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between you that you would be sleeping together from now on, so if that meant you were sleeping on the floor, then so be it.

The pair of you laid out the blankets on the floor after the others had all gone to bed. You paused for a moment, your eyes following Nikolai as he fluffed his pillow. You absentmindedly carded a finger through his golden hair.

“You really have to go red again?” You asked him.

He set down his pillow and turned to you. “Yes, my dear.”

You sat down on the blankets, glancing at Nikolai. “I suppose that’s alright. Sturmhond is pretty handsome.”

“I’m glad you think so. You’ll be seeing him for a while after tomorrow.”

You didn't mind that, his tailored appearance was just as attractive as his true form, though you were a little attached to his hazel eyes and blonde hair. But he was returning to an image you were also familiar with, so it couldn't be bad.

“So," you began. "Tamar knows about you and me.”

“I figured she would.” He eased onto his back, beckoning you to join him. "Was she tough on you?"

You shimmied nearer to him. "No, she was fine, just teased me a little."

"Couldn't be worse than Tolya's reaction."

"Tolya knows?"

"He's a heartrender too, remember? I don't imagine he wouldn’t know." He drew his thumb over your knuckles. "He kept quoting poetry and saying I should speak the passages to you to 'further your attraction to me.'"

"Please don't ever quote one of Tolya's passages to me."

"I can't make any promises. One of his poems was actually quite sweet."

You sidled up to Nikolai, hugging around his middle and relishing in him and the warmth he emanated. You pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Let's hear it, then."

His words reverberated through your head as you lay there on his chest. The rumbling gave you peace, and you closed your eyes. You'd never been as calm and content as this. You might just have to thank Nikolai for the tranquility he brought you. But before he finished his poem, before you could tell him how peaceful he made you, you drifted off to sleep, only Nikolai on your mind.

..........

FOURTH YEAR - KAZ 

The streets of Ketterdam weren't particularly crowded as Kaz made his way to the Crow Club. He passed by the Fifth Harbour, stopping for a moment to stare at the ships and schooners. He would still be early for his work if he stayed there for a couple minutes. Besides, it hadn't been a spectacular week of business at the Crow club, just the usual, and he knew he wouldn't be missed if he was only on time and not fifteen minutes early as he usually was.

He was glad to have a job and a place with the Dregs. His job was fine, not great, and he worked hard to make himself known among the liars and cheats whose world he had entered. But Kaz wanted more.

He was thirteen and hungry. He hadn't felt the pangs of starvation since joining the Dregs, but he felt a similar ache as he watched men like his leader, Per Haskell, build his empire on the backs of people like Kaz. He saw these men and he saw their weak spots, the tremours in their brows and the softness in their hearts; they would topple one day, someone just had to pull the rug out from beneath them.

But Kaz was patient. He wasn't his brother, rushing into Pekka Rollins trap under the pretense that he and his siblings could make a fortune off their small inheritance. Kaz had a determination that would see him through. And one day, he would be strong enough to be a leader with riches his siblings never could have dreamed of. 

Kaz surveyed the rotting docks and run-down schooners bobbing in the water of the Fifth Harbour. It was a shame the spot wasn't nicer; properly fixed up, it would be a great location for tourists and merchandise to flood into the Barrel. It killed him a little to wonder how much money there was to be made here, how much potential was being overlooked.

He watched one of the ship's masts as it nudged side to side in the wind. It was blustery nights like this that he pictured his sister on one of those schooners, sailing away to a brand new life. He often wondered where she left for after the Queen's Lady plague had run its course. It did him no good to dwell on the matter, but he couldn't help the morbid little curiosity.

The first thing Kaz did once he was off the sickboat and on dry land again was go to the office she worked at. He stood outside all day and night, waiting for her to go in or out, but she didn't show. Of course, Stadwatch saw a grimy little boy outside the glimmering building and cleared him away. Still, Kaz went back every day that week and watched for his sister.

He tried to file a missing person's report with the Stadwatch, tried to find anyone who might help him find his only remaining family, but no one took him seriously. When he told people his story they all seemed to come to the same conclusion. His sister either moved on and sailed away, or she trifled with the wrong people and was dead in an alley somewhere. 

But Kaz knew his sister, knew she was the most sensible person in Kerch; she would steer completely clear of any swindlers or brutes, especially after what happened with Hertzoon--or Pekka Rollins, as Kaz had discovered. She didn't have Jordie around anymore to talk her into trouble. No, it was more likely that she was halfway across the world.

It was four years now since the scam, the sickness, since his sister left, and Kaz found himself in the Harbour more and more. Sometimes he passed it by, other times he would sit by the nearest building and look at the bobbing masts as though they were trees waving in the breeze. He would sit there and wait for a ship to come in that might carry her.

If she came back, Kaz could shrug off the name he gave himself and be a Rietveld again. His family could move back to the countryside, or they could leave Kerch all together. He didn't care. He just wanted his sister back. He just didn't want to be alone anymore.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! The next part will take a little while. If you want to be tagged please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Part 5

Taglist:

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[360iris]

The Invitation (Young!Lucius Malfoy x Reader)

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut! Alcohol comsumption. Finger fucking, overstimulation. Vaginal penatration. Daddy kink, subspace mention. Oral giving and receiving. Pure filth.

Word count: 3,469

Summary: Gryffindor!Reader gets invited to the Slytherin party of the year by her nemesis, Lucius Malfoy. Fun times follow.

A/N: @thotbutpurple​ mentioned my first piece not having enough smut. I hope I delivered! Quite proud of this one, worked on it for nearly a week.

Admittedly, Lucius had caught you under the perfect circumstances. Equal parts tipsy, horny and momentarily separated from your friends. 

Slytherin house had decided to throw another one of their infamous party’s brimming with free booze and food catered by the school’s house elves. 

Over the years, you, like countless other students, had heard the tales of their untamed nights. Admittance being through invite only; of which were handed out secretly and strategically. 

Up until yesterday’s events, you had resigned yourself to the fate of never experiencing the grandeur of the self-proclaimed Slytherin Elite.

Friday, February 10th, 1978

Cutting off poor Frank Longbottom who was usually your lab partner in Potions, Lucius Malfoy, slips into the seat to your left with a low and harsh, “Find another station, you gormless Muppet.”

At this point, it was your natural reaction from hearing his voice, to let out a disgruntled sigh paired with an annoyed eye roll. 

“What do I owe the displeasure of being in your cologne drenched presence today, Malfoy?” You jabbed, in a soft but clearly inconvenienced tone. 

His gray irises narrowed as his thin lips quirked up to the side in a laidback smirk.

 He enjoyed your pointed jabs. So much so that he would go out of his way, on the daily, to verbally prod you until you couldn’t take being in the same vicinity as him anymore. Your unpleasant interactions with the older boy usually ended with you storming off enraged to go rant to your friends about how much of an absolute cunt he was. 

“I come bearing gifts, Y/N. One of which I firmly believe you won’t be able to resist accepting.” He drawled.

Inwardly, you had to admit, this piqued your curiosity however, you decided to mask it by turning away from his irritatingly, attractive visage and towards a piece of parchment Professor Slughorn distributes to the class.

“And this so-called gift is what exactly?” You questioned, careful to keep your eyes trained off of him. A task that was quickly shoved aside when a pale hand slid a single, silver metallic stamp into view. It was no bigger than a galleon. Finely embellished with the words: Salazar Slytherin’s Spectacular Soirée.

Your eyes bulged and mouth gaped as you couldn’t help but snap your head to look at his face once more. “Lucius!” You whispered in absolute surprise. 

“That can’t be what I think it is.” You continue after a sharp inhale.

He tilts his head as he takes in your clearly enthralled reaction, not replying to your statement. 

You take a moment to compose yourself. Drawing your hands into small fists on the desk and letting out a silent but deep exhale. 

You didn’t need to ask why he would gift this to you of all people. Lucius’ verbal prodding had been getting progressively more consistent once you’d entered your seventh year this semester. 

Like most girls turning 18, your inherently childish ways had vanished; awkward appearances for the most part altered and morphed during the summer spent away from Hogwarts. Hips slowly filling out and breasts becoming distinguished. Meanwhile, your library of insults to throw at him became more deadly and varied. 

You could play his game better than he expected you to now.

You crossed your legs underneath your skirt, steeling your expression. You leaned forward to lay your chin against your right palm and turned your gaze towards him. Making a show of looking him up and down before quietly whispering: 

“All this just to fuck me huh, Malfoy?” His face stills and demeanor changes. Tongue-tied by your change of tone.

You proceed with a nonchalant, “Your mind must be plagued with questions of just how pretty and pink my pussy is. I’m right aren’t I, sweetheart?”

You observe his jaw lock in place.

“Do you want to brag to your spineless lackeys about how you were the first one to fuck that cocky, Gryffindor halfblood? I bet you wouldn’t wait to boost over how all you had to do was touch her once, call her a filthy, little mudblood and she’d come like a bitch without a pedigree.”

His eyes darken and fists clench so tightly that they turn whiter than you thought possible for him; as you inwardly muse over if he was becoming horny or infuriated. Maybe it was both, but you wouldn’t stick around to see the outcome. He was a deadly bomb waiting to go off.

Pursing your lips, looking him over once more, you decide to leave him with, “Nice chat. I’ll see you around then, Lucius.” 

Agilely, you gather your things. Sauntering over to Professor Slughorn and quietly feeding him a contrived lie about how it’s that time of the month and you didn’t think you’ll be able to sit through today’s lecture; effectively earning yourself leave from the classroom.

As Lucius sits, daftly staring at your back as you make your escape. If he wasn’t previously furious from listening to your small beratement, he most definitely is when he glances down to see the silver stamp invite missing from where he had placed it on the table.

 “That bloody minx.” He seethes under his breath.

Having made your speedy getaway and in the clear for the moment, you decide to make a beeline to the Gryffindor common room where you know your friends are spending their free period. 

Remus, who is the first to notice you entering the warm lounging area, stands up at your arrival and walks to meet you halfway. 

“Y/n, aren’t you supposed to be in Potions right now? Did something happen?” He questions, his brows beginning to furrow. Sirius and James who are seated next one another mid-laugh immediately turn their heads in your direction.

Not stopping your power walk, you reach out and grasp one of his hands and pull him with you towards the boy’s dormitory entrance. “Padfoot, Prongs! Up, up!” You urgently whisper in their vicinity. 

Once the door is securely locked behind the four of you, Sirius questions you, “Alright, spit it out. What’s got your panties in a twist this time, Y/L/N?”

You ignore him, haphazardly tossing your book-bag on the floor next to James’ bed; of which you proceed to throw yourself onto the edge of, letting out a cheerful giggle. 

“Boys. I’ve just been bestowed one the greatest gifts a Hogwarts senior could ask for. One of which, you lot would have never been able to get your hands on. So you must now bask in my glory!” You jokingly proclaim, yanking off your school shoes before pulling your legs into criss cross-applesauce. Incapable of caring that your underwear is now in the boy’s lines of sight.

“And what is this gift exactly, oh great benefactor?” James questions, sitting on the floor in front you, folding his arms atop your lap and leaning his head forward on them with a fond smile. 

Your fingers absentmindedly glide and fiddle through his chaotic curls. “I don’t know, you might not be able to handle the excitement. I fear you might faint from the shock of the reveal!” You continue to jest.

“I best take a seat before you continue then.” Remus grins, plopping down next you on the bed, giving you his undivided attention. This of which, causes Sirius to scoff. 

“Dish it already, woman. At the pace you’re going, I’ll be a skeleton by time you finally tell us what the big deal is.” He sarcastically jabs folding his arms briskly. Instead of moving away from the door, he leans his back against it and crosses one leg over the other. His gaze lazily quizzical as you roll your eyes at his apprehension. 

“Sirius, you’re no fun sometimes, but if you’re in such a hurry to cum your pants then here it is.” You reply, reaching the hand that’s not currently tangled in James’ hair, to triumphantly pull out a small, silver stamp from the inside of your bra and present it for the group to see.

There are mixed reactions to the reveal. 

James scrunches his nose up in mock disgust, Sirius freezes and Remus placing one hand on your shoulder, leaning forward to get a better look. And then the questions begin.

“What is it?”

“Oh, it just happens to be a pass into one of Slytherin house’s craziest parties of the year, James dear.”

“How’d you even manage to get your hands on one of these?”

“Like I said, it was a gift, Remus.”

“Be honest, Y/n. What poor sod did you steal it from?”

“For your information I didn’t have to steal it. Lucius Malfoy just handed it to me for nothing.” You say matter-of-factly at which he first gapes before proceeding to fume. 

The conversation that continued from then on took a tiny bit of convincing on your end, but all three boys agreed in the end to come with you. No one in their right mind would let a chance like this go by.

Saturday, February 11th, 1978

“If you think you could pull the stunt you did yesterday and waltz in here today without having to answer to me, you’re gravely mistaken, lionet.” Lucius whispers into your ear and you just happen to be in the mood to challenge him further.

“I don’t think I’ve made even one mistake though, Daddy.” You coo back to him. Batting your eyelashes up at him and with a quick smirk you bring your cup of fire whiskey back to your lips for a sip.

With one hand he grabs your hips and pushes your back flush with the wall behind you. The other reaching under the skirt you’re wearing and pausing right at the hem.

“Prod me one more time, doll. I guarantee I’ll have you crying your pretty little eyes out.” He growls into your neck and this time you openly giggle up at him.

“I thought you knew that’s what I wanted, baby?” was the last thing you drawled out before the next thing you know, he’s dragging you further away from the main party, into a small reading room. 

Closing the door behind you two, he leads you to sit down on one of the ottomans in the middle of the room.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Y/N. A small part of your observation from yesterday was correct.” He says undoing the tie around his neck and bunching it up. Before you could question him further, he gingerly stuffs it in-between your mouth.

“Can't risk having anyone hearing the cute little moans you'll be letting out for me. I want all the time I can get from you tonight, lionet.” Is all he offers as an explanation.

Rubbing your thighs together to aid in soothing your gradually aching cunt, you watch as he gets on his knees in front of you.

“I’ve spent countless months thinking of this stupid, fucking pussy of yours and tonight I’m determined to have it creaming all over my cock.” He's gazing at you intensely while his hands are reaching to pull off your undies.

Not being able to actually respond around your makeshift gag, you settle for lifting your hips so he can get to pleasing you quicker.

As the minutes pass, the soberer you become but Lucius’ arousing words continue to sway you into a pliant and silent submission. 

Never in a million years did you think you would willing want Lucius Malfoy to fuck you senseless but the closer you get to having him, the more sure you are of it. You pray to Morgana that he leaves your cunt an absolute mess.

Once you’re free from your undergarment, he pulls you by your thighs until your ass is flush against the edge of the couch.

He pushes your knees back against your chest to get full access to your core, “Daddy wants you to keep your thighs nice and wide for him so he can wreck your little pussy, okay?” He questions and you let out a muffled sob of your confirmed understanding.

“Good girl” is all he replies before he gets to work. Spreading the lips with two fingers, he examines just how pink you are down there, seemingly pleased because immediately after, he springs into action.

His mouth cups around your clit, starting off slow and light to ease you into the pleasure before increasing the intensity. 

He begins alternating between sucking and lapping at your bud while a single finger makes its way to your slit. Leisurely dragging the pad in your wetness before sliding it inside you, centimeter by centimeter, until it’s gone as far it can go. 

Thrusting the one finger in and out until he feels your insides are soaked and loose enough for the next. 

By the time you’re comfortablely taking four fingers fucking into you, your arousal is dripping down his wrist and you’re nearing your first orgasm.

“Lu- Lucius!” You manage to drool out through the thickness of his tie, catching his attention. 

“Luci- I’m close!” You try to sob out and he responds by sucking and lapping at your clitorus intenser than before. His tongue rubbing just the right angle and you can’t help but let out a small squeal as your body is raked over with a white flash of euphoria.

He eases you through it with softer and softer laps as you squeeze your thighs to your chest with a vice grip. He licks up the remainder of your cum before coming up to remove the tie from your mouth and pull you into an enticing kiss. 

As your breathing relaxes, he pulls his lips away. “How was that, sweetheart? Did Daddy make your little cunt feel good like he promised?” He coos, caressing your shoulders to soothe you further.

Fighting to get your words back you mewl, “Mmhmm, thank you Daddy. Felt really good, just like you promised. Do you think I’ve been good enough to have your cock though?” you ask looking up at him through wet lashes. His immediate response is a moan. 

How is it that you know just what to say to rile him up? He wonders.

Picking you up, he takes your place on the couch. Pulling off his trousers and underwear, finally freeing his cock, it swings upright against his tummy. Scooting to leisurely lean back, he places you in his lap as you take a minute to admire his member. It’s thick and hard with a raging reddish-pink tip, leaking a small amount pre-cum. 

Your core throbs and there’s no way you’re not gonna suck him off before getting him inside of you. Before you can scuttle off his lap however, his hands are gripping your hips. “Where are you going, love? I thought you wanted my cock?” He questions with a smirk. 

Of course Lucius would make you beg to suck him off, you think, responding with a desperate moan. You try to lean in for a kiss but a hand flies up to hold your jaw in place. Squishing your cheeks and mouth together.

“Ah ah.” He tuts. “You know what to do, baby.” 

You let out a defiant whine and the hand around your cheeks grip tightens. 

“Daddy just told you to beg, you fucking whore.” He growled, giving your head a slight jerk back and you melt against him. 

Grasping at his shoulders and trying to keep yourself from swooning, you respond with, “Wanna suck your cock, Daddy. Can I make you feel good please? You can even fuck my throat. Let me be a good girl for you.” you whimper through his grip and he just smiles at you before pulling you in for the kiss you wanted.

“That’s all you had to say, little lionet. Come on, let Daddy slide down your throat.” He grins and you practically fly down from his lap to get his penis in your mouth.

Moaning when his pre-cum hits your tongue, you immediately lick up and down his length. Getting as much spit around him as possible before beginning to use your hands to jerk him off. Lapping at his tip all the way to sucking his balls between your lips. 

All he can do is whisper softly  “Fuck fuck fuck, yes- ah that’s a good girl. My little girl is such a good slut for me.”  before you come up to start deepthroating him and then his head is lolled back against the couch, gently holding both sides of your face as his tip hits the back of your throat.

Pulling you off of him by the hair at the nape of your neck, he has to take deep inhales and exhales “I wanna come in you, sweetheart.” He groans, caressing your hair.

Once he’s recovered enough, he lifts you to sit back on his lap, this time facing away from him. 

You lean forward grasping his knees while he fingers you to make sure you’re ready to take him. “Alright, Angel.” He groans, licking his newly wet fingers to taste your arousal once more before reaching around to rub slow circles against your clit.

As you slide onto him, leaning your back against his chest, the room fills with your collective sighs and moans of pleasure.

He begins to set the pace, starting with slow pulls out of your heat before using your weight to pull you back down onto him firmly. Experiencing such euphoria that coherent speech begins to elude you. The both of you too lost in the pleasure to say anything other than “Yes, yes, yes! Right there, fuck me!” mixed with slurred moans and sighs.

His fingers rubbing your clit in circles, fastens in pace and soon your second orgasm knocks into you so hard that all you can do is grip his wrist and thigh, convulsing helplessly around him. 

As you’re climaxing, Lucius fuzzily notices that you’re squirting. All that can be heard from your lips is a fucked out wail and he’s sure he’s in love. 

He’s fucked you through your orgasm and the pleasure is gradually escalating into overstimulation. Your body locking in place as he maintains the same pace, rocking into you. 

“Luci- fuck! Lucius!” You’re crying now, thrown deep into subspace.

“Come on Angel, let me give you one more. Think you can manage one more orgasm, hm?” He asks desperately fucking into you like he’s starved of pleasure.

“Can you handle it, babygirl?”

“O- Okay!” Literally sobbing now from the buildup. He’s fucking you like you’ve never experienced before. 

“It hurts so good, Luci- you’re fucking me so good!” You cry out, both of you racing towards the end. 

One last thrust does it and he grabs you by the waist to bring you down on him. You let a blissed out scream and he’s resting his forehead against your back breathing heavily. Warmth spreading in your stomach as he releases into you. He gives a few thrusts before pulling out.

You’re feeling fuzzy as he cleans your inner thighs and face off. He sprinkles kisses from your legs to your lips, praises peppering your ego. 

“You were such a good girl for me.”

“Look at you baby. So pretty.”

“Good job, love.”

“You were wonderful, little lionet.”

Pulling your panties back on for you, he’s pleased knowing his come is still inside you. “Something to remember me by.” He says before pulling you into one last kiss for the night. It’s slow and soft and as your coherent mind is making its way back into your body, you register how tender he’s being.

Pulling back from his lips, you stare into his eyes. “I hope you’re aware that you can’t fuck me that good and expect it to be a one time fling.” You state smiling, fingers grasping at his sides and he laughs.

“I was never planning for it to be, doll.” He replies, slipping a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now run along back to your miscreant friends. I’ll finish cleaning up here.” He pats your butt, pushing you towards the door and with a roll of your eyes, you head out.

After turning a few corners you immediately bump into Sirius who looks over you with a raised brow. 

“What?” You ask, pulling back.

“Nothing, you just look like you got fucked into next year though.” He barks out. Laughing his head off, pointing out your makeup that’s missing in action and hair completely unstyled. You elbow him in the stomach feeling suddenly sheepish.

“Shut up and help me find the others. I’m in desperate need of a shower.” And you can’t help but chuckle with him, his laugh being undeniably contagious.

“Whatever you say. I think I saw James challenging some random sod to an arm wrestling match.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Certain Type

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, fingering, oral, cheating

This is dark!Steve Rogers (and some side Bucky) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Steve Rogers has an unhealthy interest in his TA.

for @evnscvll​‘s 3k challenge, I used the prompts Professor AU + ‘Don’t’ by Bryson Tiller

Note: A quick one shot for y’all ft. Professor Steve and a little sleazy Bucky too.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Reader📚

You smiled at Lauren as you handed her back her paper; the first assignment of the year. On the due date, Professor Rogers had shuffled them all up and handed you half the stack. That had been the same day as your first lesson. It had all been so overwhelming but more than a month and a half into the semester, you were starting to get a foothold.

“Have a good day,” You watched Lauren go, the last of the students to shuffle out into the hall. 

You grabbed the three papers left in the file folder and crossed to the podium. Your advisor, Professor Rogers, worked at erasing his slanted writing from the whiteboard. You waited patiently until he set down the eraser and turned to you.

“I have some leftovers.” You clapped the bottom of the folder on the wood. “Absentees.”

“Ah, yes,” He neared the other side of the podium and took the file from you. He flipped through the papers inside. “Only three? I think that’s a new record…” He closed the folder and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll hold onto them until next class.”

“Alright,” You nodded. “So… did you get a chance to look over my lesson on Kant?”

“I did,” He bent to grab his bag. “You know, I can really tell you’re a history major first… but it’s good. I’ll send you my notes tonight.”

“I’m trying to break that,” You went to the seat along the first row where you often sat when it wasn’t your turn to teach. You lifted your bag onto the seat. “Trying to focus less on the dry who’s and what’s and more on ideas.”

“Well, so far, you’re a quick learner,” He offered as you packed up your notebook. “We do need to go over the marking scheme for next week’s assignment. You able to make Saturday?”

“Uh,” You glanced at the icon on your phone screen. You had several unanswered and unread messages. “Actually, I’m… busy. I can stop by during regular office hours.”

“I try to keep that reserved for undergrads,” He inhaled. “But I wouldn’t ask you to cancel.”

“I can rearrange--”

“Boyfriend?” He interrupted. “Finally making time?”

“He’s been out of town,” You said meekly. “How about tomorrow? I can come to campus between your afternoon blocks.”

“Hmmm,” He dragged his fingertips over his trimmed beard. “Meet me at Smoky’s. I usually have a coffee there after my morning class.” He pushed the flap over the top of his bag. “They have great carrot muffins.”

“Works for me,” You lifted your leather bag and tucked your phone up your sleeve. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be,” He waved away your apology and went to the door. He opened it and waited expectantly. “We have lives. Some of us more than others.” He chuckled. “You deserve a Saturday to yourself.”

📚

You giggled as your head spun. Bucky pinned you beneath him as he rolled you over on the rug. What had started out as a none-so-innocent wrestling match had turned into your usual affair. He could never win an argument with you so it often ended with his lips, or his hand, smothering out your words.

Besides, you were eager for him. Almost desperate. Two weeks without him and you almost jumped on him the moment he opened the door. And after such a long week, you needed the stress relief.

His fingers tickled along your thigh and past the top of your stockings as he snaked beneath your skirt. You hadn’t started wearing them until you met him. He liked the short ones, especially on you. He pulled your panties aside and you gasped as his fingertips swirled around your clit. You latched onto his shoulders as his lips explored your throat.

“You’re wearing panties,” He growled.

“It’s cold out…” You breathed. 

“You’ve got a coat,” He nipped at your neck and slid his fingers down your folds. “Don’t you?”

You tried to close your legs and his pushed your knee down with his.

“Ah,” He warned. “None of your games.”

“I didn’t come here for a lecture,” You huffed. “I pay tuition for that.”

“We both know why you came here,” He lifted his head and pecked your lips. “How many times did you touch yourself while I was away?”

“That’s none of your business.” You snipped.

“Do you have toys?” His hot breath grazed along your cheek. “Do you think of me?”

“Bucky,” You whined as he poked his fingers inside of you. 

He purred as he dropped his head again and his teeth toyed with the tender flesh of your throat. He pulled your sweater up, rolling it with the tank top beneath until it was above your chest. No bra that day. He hummed and took you nipple in his mouth until your arched your back.

“Well…” He rolled your hard nipple between his thumb and index. “You’ve learned something.”

“Should I just come naked?” You asked.

“Preferably,” He chuckled as he ventured along your stomach, a trail of kisses and bites.

“Ugh,” You groaned as he brushed over your hips bones, his fingers still buried in you. 

He nosed along your pelvis and you tensed in expectation. He paused and raised his head. You looked down at him as his fingers stilled and he hovered close enough for his breath to tickle your cunt.

“What are you waiting for?” You snarled.

He smirked and closed the distance. His eyes never left yours as his tongue swirled around your clit and he sealed his lips around it. You gulped and let out a pathetic moan. His other hand gripped your hip and he hummed as your eyes rolled back and your legs hugged him closer.

“Ah, I missed you,” You stretched your arms out as you tilted into him. “Mmm, Bucky.”

He seemed pleased by your words as his fingers sped up and his tongue danced more firmly around your bud. You began to quiver as he set your nerves on fire. The knot inside of you tightened and the wire drew taut until you couldn’t bear it anymore. At once, you orgasmed, your hand flying down to grasp Bucky’s head as he lapped up your pleasure.

Panting, your body went limp and you laid sprawled out with his head between your legs, twitching as he drew out the ecstasy with his tongue. Slowly, he pulled away and slipped his fingers from inside you, rubbing them over your sensitive clit. He sat up and kneaded your thigh.

“Missed you too, baby,” He flicked open his fly with one hand. “God, I can’t wait any longer.”

Steve 📚

Steve hadn’t been to Bucky’s in a while. They usually met downtown for a beer or ended up at his place. As it was, it didn’t seem like they had much time for each other anymore. Well, Steve wasn’t surprised. His oldest friend was juggling a lot; his job, his fiancee, and apparently some new side piece.

He sat up as Bucky offered him a bottle of crisp beer. The top wisped as he accepted it and Steve felt its chill against his lips before he took his first sip. He sat back and bent his leg to rest over his other knee, rolling his ankle as he stared at the bare floorboards.

“What happened to the carpet?” He asked in realisation.

“It’s getting cleaned,” Bucky sat across from him and snickered. “You know, made a bit of a mess.”

“Anna?” Steve raised a brow.

“Nah,” Bucky shrugged. “She cancelled her flight. Apparently they had some emergency at the lab.”

“Hmm,” Steve rested the bottle atop the arm of the couch. “This other girl?”

“What am I supposed to do? I fly all the way to Germany for about twenty minutes of Anna’s attention. The last time…” He shook his head. “I just don’t know how to… end it. Don’t even know that I want to. I just want it to be over. Two years is a long time.”

Steve nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say. What advice could he offer? His last relationship hadn’t lasted long and had been so far back, he barely remembered more than her name. After a slew of bad dates and disappointing flings, he decided to focus on his work. Well, even that was becoming difficult.

“And when Anna comes back?”

“Well, you know, this girl, she’s still in college, she’s got a lot going on. It is what it is.” He said. “You know, she’d find another guy in an instant and forget about me.”

“College?” Steve blinked. He hadn’t known that. “A bit young.”

His cheeks burned. He wasn’t sure if he was reprimanding his friend or himself. The fact that Bucky was dipping into the campus pool reminded Steve of his own guilt. Sure, he hadn’t done anything, it was all professional, but his thoughts… His thoughts were what troubled him.

“You never… thought of it?” Bucky asked. “You spend so much time around these girls and you never even--”

“It’s against the rules,” Steve cleared his throat. “I’m there to teach. I do my job.”

“And when’s the last time you got laid?”

“Shut up,” Steve took a swig. “The carpet?”

“She’s funny. She likes to… play around first.” Bucky took a mouthful beer and his eyes turned dreamy. “It wasn’t me who ruined the carpet.”

“Mmm,” Steve jiggled his leg anxiously. The vision that flashed in his mind had him sipping again. It wasn’t Bucky and some faceless girl on the floor, it was him and the sweet TA. He cleared his throat and looked through the dark brown glass. “Just about done. You got another?”

“Maybe she has a friend?” Bucky offered as he stood.

He neared as Steve drained the last of his beer and handed over the empty bottle.

“Thirsty?” Bucky took it and disappeared, returning with a fresh one.

“Long week.” Steve rubbed his cheek as he leaned forward to take the second bottle. “Another ahead.”

“Well, I could ask her.” Bucky grabbed his own beer and stayed standing. “The young ones, these days, they don’t want anything serious.”

“But I do,” Steve grumbled. “Thanks but… no thanks.”

“Your loss,” Bucky said. “You know, she’s real wild. I took her to a baseball game. She hates the game but… what she did in the bathroom… wow.”

Steve gave a weak smile and chuckled dryly. He glanced around. The carpet wasn’t the only thing that had disappeared. That framed picture of Bucky and Anna was gone too and the mantle only held the antique gun mounted on mahogany.

“Too bad it’s off season now,” Bucky droned on as he lazily paced and drank his beer.

“Yeah,” Steve leaned back and felt something hard beside the cushion. 

He shifted but it poked him again. He reached down into the crevice as Bucky took the baseball he’d had signed years ago and began to toss it up and down as he complained about the last season. 

Steve pulled out the long cylinder and blinked at how familiar it was. He swallowed and tucked it into his jean pocket quickly as Bucky threw the ball in his direction. He barely caught it without spilling his beer and chucked it back with venom.

“The fuck, Bucky?”

“Good to see you still got it,” Bucky laughed. “Pizza?”

“Sure,” Steve huffed. “No pepperoni.”

“Boring,” Bucky said as he pulled out his phone.

Steve took a deep breath as Bucky set down his beer and lifted his phone to his ear. He stepped into the short hallway and greeted the other end, carefully placing an order for a large and a side of wings. 

As he did. Steve pulled out the pen and turned it between his fingers. The daisy pendant that dangled from the end, the initials etched into the rose gold, the little scratch along the tip. It was definitely hers. His stomach sank and he quickly hid it as Bucky’s voice died.

He’d have to be sure. He’d give it back to her the next day and see.

Reader📚

You were heartened by Steve’s interest as you finished up your last slide. The lesson had gone well and the class was interested in what could otherwise be a dry topic. You took questions but found many of them were simple enough. The students seemed to understand well enough and you reminded them to submit their next assignment by Wednesday night.

Several students stopped to ask you about your office hours before the room finally emptied. Steve approached as you slid your papers into your notebook and closed it. He reached over the podium and set down the metal pen. The one your mother had gifted you when you were accepted to your masters program.

“You forgot this,” He let it roll down to the lip and catch there.

“Oh my god, I’ve been looking for this,” You grabbed it and spun it in your fingers. “Thanks so much! I’d hate for anyone else to just claim it.”

“No problem,” His blue eyes were, for once, humourless.

“Where was it?”

His brows shot up and his lips parted. He looked over his shoulder then back to you.

“U-under the desk,” He pointed to your usual seat. “Caught my eye during one of my other classes.”

“Well,” You fiddled with it and gathered up your notebook. “It needs a refill anyway.”

You grabbed your bag and shoved your things inside. You were glad he’d found it, you had been convinced you’d left it at Bucky’s and he had been evasive since Saturday. Work, as usual. Well, what did you expect? He was older and unlike college boys, he couldn’t just skip.

“I liked it,” Steve hovered around you, a hand in his pocket. “I see you took my advice.”

“Oh, the lesson,” You looked up at him as you lifted your bag. “Yeah, well, it would’ve been a disaster without you.”

“Yeah?” He smirked. “So, you got another class now?”

“Thesis work,” You said. “Library.”

“Fun,” He remarked. “You know… if you don’t… if you need a quiet place, you can use my office. I have some stuff to take care of before my next block so…”

“Oh, I don’t… know, I wouldn’t want to…”

“It’s pretty big anyway. Even if I was there, I probably wouldn’t even notice you.” He said. “And there’s a bluetooth speaker in there. A gift I never really use but you’re free to.”

“I, um…” You considered the library and the stuffy, dry air. The noise of hidden food wrappers and buzzing whispers. “You sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Go on,” He grabbed his bag and checked his watch. “I don’t mind.”

“Twist my arm,” You accepted.

“I’ll have to unlock it for you,” He went to the door. 

“Uh, sure,” You followed him into the hall and waited as he locked up the classroom.

Silently, you walked beside him. You realised you didn’t have much to say about anything besides philosophy. You pulled out your phone. A message from Bucky. Finally. After days of radio silence.

“Sorry, baby, going out of town.” You hissed and blackened the screen.

“What’s up?” Steve asked as you followed him out into the late autumn chill.

“Nothing,” You shrugged.

“That boyfriend again?” He asked. 

“It’s whatever,” You grumbled. “Really.”

“I don’t know, it seems like every time I see you, he’s up to no good.”

“Well, he’s… busy.”

“And? You are too.”

“Yeah, but...I mean…” You were quiet as you walked along the campus path. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t--”

“I don’t mind. A little bit of impersonal gossip is… fun. And your secret’s safe with me.”

You glanced over at him and then around at the students all around.

“He’s older,” You admitted. “So… he’s always busy.��

“Older? Like what? A year or two?”

“A bit more than that,” You said nervously. “More…”

You were quiet again. He led you up the steps of the philosophy building and as he always did, opened the door. 

“...Your age.” You finished.

He blinked and tailed you inside, gesturing you up the stairs. You often did prep in his office so you didn’t need much guidance as he followed you up.

“Oh, old-old,” He scoffed. “I get it.”

You laughed, despite yourself and he came up beside you as you reached the third floor.

“You’re supposed to say ‘No, Professor Rogers, you’re not old’,” He chided as he rounded the corner and stopped in front of his office door. “Or something like that.”

“Sorry, I--”

As he reached into his pocket for his keys, a chiming tune filled the hallway. He pulled out his phone instead and apologized as he put it to his ear.

“Hey,” He cradled it with his shoulder as he fished for his keys. “What’s up, Buck?”

He shoved the key into the slot and the audible friction of metal in metal was like a knife to your heart. ‘Buck’? You frowned as he pushed open the door and waved you inside. He stayed at the threshold as he continued his call.

“Germany? I thought you said-- Ahh, okay, yeah,” He leaned on the doorframe. “Anna will be happy to see ya. Oh yeah, been a while.” He tilted his head. “We’ll reschedule. No problem. Yep. Have a good one.”

You waited anxiously as he hung up and stepped inside. He tucked his phone away and checked his watch again.

“Sorry, old friend. He’s going to see his fiancee and well--” He stopped himself. “Anyways, desk is there, speaker is…” He went to the shelf and pulled forward a rather expensive gadget. “Here. Maybe you’ll have better luck figuring it out.”

“Uh, thanks,” You nodded, almost dumbfounded as your mind began to whir. “I appreciate it. I won’t be more than an hour or two.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks, again.”

“Not at all,” He went to the door and turned back. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Sure,” You smiled.

He closed the door behind him as he went. You dropped your bag and fumbled for your phone. You tore it out of your pocket and swiped up. You searched through your contacts and hit call. It had to be a coincidence. Right?

“Hey,” Bucky answered from the other end, a din of activity around him. “I’m just about to fly out.”

“You’re engaged?” You hissed.

“What-- I-- How did you--”

“You are!” You snarled. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you! So have you been busy with work or with her?”

“Baby, it’s--”

“Don’t call me baby,” You retorted. “In fact, don’t call me. Ever.”

You hung up. A floorboard creaked and you turned around. Steve stood in the open door.

“Sorry, I… forgot to grab something,” He pointed past you. “I didn’t mean to--”

“I gotta go,” You bent to pick up your bag. “I’m sorry, I--” 

You neared but he blocked the door with his body.

“Bucky?”

“Your friend,” You uttered. “I didn’t know. I-- Did you?”

“No,” He answered. “Not until… now.”

“Well, now you do.”

“You don’t have to go because of-- I don’t care,” He said.

“I do. I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. He lied. How could you know?” He touched your arm.

“Isn’t he-- he’s your friend. You should be defending him,” You recoiled.

“And? He can be my friend and still be wrong,” He stepped closer and you back up, his hand lingered along your elbow. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, Professor, but I should--”

“Steve,” He corrected you. “I think we know each other well enough.”

He got closer again and you continued to retreat. He kicked the door closed behind him and you flinched.

“What are you--”

He leaned in and you were surprised by his hand on your chin. You dropped your bag and tried to wriggle away. He kissed you and you pushed against his chest. Your skin was alight as your insides wrenched. He parted, at last, his hand still around your jaw.

“What are you doing?” You breathed. 

“You deserve better,” His kissed your again and you bit his lip.

“Professor--”

“Steve,” He insisted and squeezed your chin.

“Let me go,” You grabbed his wrist.

He marched you backwards until you were against his desk. You clutched his wrist tightly but he didn’t budge.

“What? You’ll fuck him but not me?” He sneered. 

“It’s not-- you’re my advisor. I--” Your hand slipped down his arm as you panicked. “Please.”

“I’ve tried so hard not to think about it. About you.” He pushed you against the desk, bending you back until you were flat atop it, your legs hanging off. He loomed over you. “Thinking I was too old and yet I just wanted to have you... Right here… in the front of the class. Mmm, and then I find out you’re fucking him and I realise… you want it just as bad.”

“No, no, “Prof-- Steve,” You pleaded as his hand slid down to your neck. “I-- It was only… It was just sex.”

“Did you ever think of me when you were with him? Huh?” His lips were just above yours. “I thought of you. He told me about you but I didn’t even realise… I heard you do all sorts of naughty things.”

His other hand tugged at your blouse and you writhed helplessly.

“He told me you wore these little skirts for him,” He pressed his lips to your cheeks. “That you kept them on as he fucked you.”

“Steve,” You whined. “Stop!”

“Or what? It’d be a waste to toss away almost a semester’s work…” He snarled. “You know what they do to students who cross professional bounds? I have a duty to report such misconduct.”

“No, no, you--”

“Who are they going to believe?” He snapped. “Hmm, especially when it comes out you been fucking a man twice your age on the side.”

“They-- Steve,” You tried to catch his hand as he tugged on your pants. “You’re scaring me.”

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted our first time to be,” His hand snaked around and he pulled your pants down to your thighs in a single wipe. “That was before I knew how you like it.”

He held you down by your throat as he forced your pants past your knees, your panties twisted in the folds. He brought his foot up to push them further and free them from your ankles.

His hand flew back up your leg and he pushed two fingers against your cunt as you squirmed. He pressed deeper and rubbed along your folds as he bent over you again. He kissed you and drew back before you could bite him.

“You’re wet, kitten,” He purred. “We both know what you want.”

He toyed with you, flicking his fingers over your clit and dragging them back down. He repeated the motion several times until you bit your lips and slapped at the desk.

“Look at you,” He pushed his middle fingers inside of you and your back arched. “He didn’t care about you. Not like I do.”

He pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and curled his fingers. He squeezed and you gasped. He pulled his hand down and spread it over your chest, holding you down as he played with you. He sped up and his fingers clutched your blouse as he shook your body. You closed your eyes as you tried to resist the coil winding tightly inside you.

You mewled and he hushed you. You gritted your teeth and slapped your hand over his. He rocked his hand faster and you struggled to catch your breath. Your nails dug into the back of his hand and you pressed your lips together to hold in the sudden rise. You spasmed as you came atop the desk.

He slowed his hand and when he withdrew, you felt empty and cold. You opened your eyes as he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked clean his fingers. He hummed and ran his hands over your thighs. 

“Stand up,” He ordered. 

You stayed as you were, shaking, and stared at him. You drew your legs together and he pinched you.

“Now,” He growled.

You pushed yourself up and slid off the edge of the desk. He grabbed your open jacket and pulled it down your arms. Then he tore the hem of your blouse up and you were forced to raise your arms as he stripped away the cotton blend. Your bra fell loose as he swiftly unclasped the hooks and it fell away from your arms.

He grasped your shoulders and ran his hands down your front, cupping your chest as he took in every inch of you. He grabbed your arm and spun you to face the desk. He took your hands in his and placed them flat on the top. 

“Stay,” He bid. “I won’t tell you twice.”

His hand grazed your ass and he spanked you lightly. You winced and he reluctantly drew away. You trembled as you listened to him behind you. He dropped his jacket over your shoulder on the desk in front of you. Then his zipper whispered in the tense silence and he stepped closer until you felt his warmth against your naked back. He kicked your feet apart with his leather shoe and fumbled around behind you.

You flinched as his hand brushed against you and you felt him prodded along your ass. He leaned against you and guided your hand further over the desk. He dragged his tip along your folds, poking until he found your entrance. You tried to push away from the desk and he leaned on you heavier.

“He can’t make you feel like I can,” He rasped in your ear as he slid into you. “How does that feel, kitten?”

He impaled you entirely and your fingers curled against the wood. You gulped and hung your head.

“Answer me,” He wrapped his arm around your neck and forced your head up. “Be a good girl.”

“G-good,” You stuttered as he thrust into you.

“Yeah,” He breathed against your scalp. “Better than him?”

He rocked steadily against you as you struggled to keep yourself from folding over the desk. He grabbed your hip and sank his nails into the flesh.

“When I ask a question, you answer me,” He warned. “Like the good girl you are.”

“Y-y-yes,” You stammered as your thighs tingled. “B-b-better than… h-him.”

“Much better than I ever imagined,” His hot breath seeped into you as he nuzzled the crown of your head. “Fuck.”

You moaned as his arm wrapped snugger around your neck, his muscles hard through the soft fabric of his shirt. His flesh clapped against yours as he rutted into you. Deeper, faster. You slapped at his arm with one hand as your other remained planted on the desktop. You were on tiptoe as you orgasmed, barely muffling it as you bit down on your lip.

“That’s it,” He purred. “That’s it. Oh, kitten, I don’t think I can handle much more. Can you?”

He sped up again and your knees buckled dangerously. His arm tightened until he was choking you entirely, drawing you flush against him. You grasped at his arm and he pushed you closer to the desk until you were pressed to it. The soles of your boots, the only clothing still left to you, slipped on the floor and you came again as you fought for air.

“Ah, here I go.” He grunted.

He slammed into you as his other arm hugged your waist and he lifted you off your feet with his final thrusts. He spilled into you and slowed. As he still, he sighed and his arms loosened just a little. He turned you and rested against his desk, still inside you. 

He drew you into his lap as he slid back and bent his head against your shoulder. His hand fluttered along your cunt, hovering over it as he caught his breath.

“I’ll tell Bucky to leave you alone,” He muttered. “And you will do the same.”

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - A special night

Prompt: Any Fandom | Any Characters/Pairings | Ordering a sweet treat to be delivered to the other person at home/work

Word Count: 2,136

Author/Team: LadyMonotone

Fandom/Original: Redacted ASMR (Gavin/Freelancer. Vincent Solaire/Lovely) 

Rating: T

Triggers: NA

Summary: Having an Incubus boyfriend comes with many perks. The Freelancer and Lovely really should have seen it coming. 

ConCrit: Y 

Well, I guess this can be a sequel to my previous oneshot, REDACTED verse - Those that stood above the rest. I really wanted to write the Freelancer and Lovely interacting after their first, proper meeting so this oneshot suddenly comes to mind! 

-

Exam week is the bane of every student, everywhere — even for the magical ones. 

An uneasy atmosphere lingers around D.A.M.N as the current semester hurl the students into an intense week of revisions, study groups, and extra classes; all for the upcoming exams. 

The seniors are frantically cramming for their final papers and projects under the watchful eyes of the lecturers. The Freelancer doesn't envy them one bit when they caught a Sonal Energetic screamed into his backpack for a solid ten minutes. 

His scream shakes the student lounge, and the windows shattered. 

Once he got that out of his system, he focused back towards his textbook, expressionless. The rest of the students around the Energetic hardly bat an eye over what just happened. 

On that day, the Freelancer learned to avoid a large group of seniors until the exam week blows over. 

"The tension alone in that lounge could make a Serenity Daemon hide underneath a bed." The Freelancer narrates their experience to Lovely. The two of them are currently having their own study session over at the Freelancer's apartment. 

It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and yet here they are - flipping through textbooks, reviewing and swapping notes and downing cans of coffee and Red Bulls from as early as 9 AM. "Even the janitor wasn't fazed by it. He just snapped his fingers, and the windows were good as new!"

That night after their proper introduction, Lovely and the Freelancer had become quite good friends, much to Vincent's annoyance and Gavin's pleased smirk when the Freelancer told him that Lovely would be coming over for their study session. 

"Aww, look you, Deviant. Arranging a little study date with that friend of yours," Gavin teased during breakfast this morning. They both woke up early to prepare meals that could last the Freelancer and Lovely throughout the whole day. When his Deviant absentmindedly replied, "Uh-huh" as they were busy chopping the vegetables, Gavin couldn't help but plant a fond kiss on top of their head. "Anyway, I'll be popping into Aria for a bit today. A few of my, ah, older brothers and sisters called for a meeting. Can I trust that you two won't be having too much fun without me?"

The Freelancer stopped chopping to gave their boyfriend a deadpan stare. "Gavin, we'll be studying." They explained. "Our first paper is literally next week. So I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but there won't be any fucking happening." They then stop themselves. They suddenly recalled something. "I don't want to be on that Solaire Prince's hit list too."

Gavin just cooed at their disgruntled partner, as if the genuine possibility that the both of them being shred to pieces by Lovely's possessive boyfriend amused him. 

Nonetheless, Gavin pulled his weight to ensure there was enough food and comfortable pillows and blankets in their shared apartment so that his Deviant and the Electro Energetic would be comfortable for their revisions. 

An hour before Lovely arrived, Gavin kissed the Freelancer goodbye and Rifted into his home dimension. 

And now we're back in the present. 

"I think those students around that guy were his classmates," Lovely commented. They take a quick sip of the lemonade that Gavin prepared to refresh their parched throat. Even in a simple pair of slacks, baggy t-shit, and hair pulled up in a bun, they still look as breathtaking as ever. "They reacted as if it was like a regular Tuesday for them. It's so crazy to think that we'll be seniors like them soon."

The Freelancer pours more lemonade into their glass from the pitcher beside them. Their books, notebooks and snacks are spread all over the dining table. A large and fluffy pillow is propped behind the Freelancer so they can lean back on their chair comfortably. "Urgh, mood. I can already imagine the coursework we'll be forced to do in our final semester." They groan. Their brain is fried from all the information and notes they've been reviewing since this morning. On top of that, the thought that they will be getting even more work once they hit their senior year is starting to freak them out. 

Seeing the Freelancer is having an internal crisis, Lovely quickly glance at the time on their phone and decides, "OK, I think we seriously need a break. You look like you're going to pull a stunt similar to that Sonal Energetic, and I don't think your boyfriend appreciates coming back to a half-destroyed apartment."

"Gavin can fix the apartment with his magic, don't worry." The Freelancer is quick to assure Lovely. "He did that after he and Vega trashed the place anyway."

"Uh, what? Who's Vega?"

The Freelancer snapped their attention back to Lovely once they realised the name that they accidentally dropped. "N-Nothing! I didn't s-say anything!" They laugh awkwardly, doing their best to brush off Lovely's concerned expression. "Anyway, break! Yeah! That's a good idea! Are you hungry? We can watch something on Youtube and eat in the living room. You're OK with that?"

Lovely gingerly nods; it's best not to comment or ask about this Vega person since the name alone made their friend jumpy. They push their chair back, stretch their stiff spine, and get up to help set the plates and cutleries while the Freelancer heats the lunch they made in the morning. 

They then move to the living room with a tray of food and drinks, where the couch and coffee table are surrounded by pillows and blankets thrown around messily. 

"You play video games, right?" The Freelancer asked after Lovely settle down on the couch with a blanket over their lap. "Do you want to watch a playthrough or something?"

"Sure! Do you and Gavin play video games too?"

"Gavin does, though he usually only plays those dating sim games for girls. It's a guilty pleasure of his."

"Oh, Otome Games? My respect for your boyfriend just levelled up. Has he ever played Hatoful Boyfriend?"

"Uh... I don't remember he ever mentioned that title. What is it about?"

"We're watching a playthrough of that game. Right now. You can watch it with me, but you can't tell Gavin anything, OK? I promise you're going to love his reactions."

Lovely's eyes light up with glee and grin widely as the Freelancer switch on the Smart TV. When thumbnails of pigeons with pink hearts in the background pop up on the screen, they immediately throw an incredulous look at the Energetic. 

"That top playlist is good to watch. Come on, sit beside me." Lovely pats on the empty spot on the couch beside them, unperturbed at the look the Freelancer is giving them. "I think you're going to like Okosan."

The Freelancer press play on the first video and kick back on the couch with the Energetic. What's better than having a break after a long study session? Hanging out with a friend with some good food while watching a crazy romance video game about pigeons! 

However, when the fourth video starts to play, the doorbell rings. 

"Uh... are you expecting someone?" Lovely asks curiously; their head is tilting towards the door. Their plate of eggplant pasta and buttered abalones are polished on their lap. The Freelancer internally preened when they enthusiastically complimented on theirs and Gavin's cooking skills. 

Anyway, the Freelancer moves their empty tray onto the coffee table and flip over the blanket to get up. "Not really. Gavin said he'll be coming back home at night." They explain and went towards the door when the doorbell ring once more. 

A delivery man greets the Freelancer with a stoic face, an armful of flower bouquet, and a thick, rectangular item wrapped in hot red packaging. 

"I, uh, think you got the wrong address?" They said, confused to hell and back. 

The delivery man blinks, unfaze at the Freelancer's greeting. "Good afternoon. Delivery for..." He pauses to read the card attached to the bouquet. "Deviant? We received a request from Gavin to arrange a flower bouquet and some... special chocolates. He also left a message for you: My Deviant has been working so hard lately~ So I got you something to... help you relax. PS: give some of the special chocolates to that gorgeous friend of yours and their boyfriend."

The Freelancer could only gape when the delivery man finished reciting Gavin's message. From the living room, Lovely is also doing an excellent mimicking of a goldfish. Their stunned expression made the man sigh tiredly. "Look, I'm not going to judge your... bedroom activities. Just take the packages already. I still have more stops to deliver."

"O-Oh my god! I'm really, really sorry about my boyfriend!" The Freelancer finally snaps out of it and stammers an apology. Their face is bright red. They hurriedly accept the flowers and package, shoot a quick thank you and slams the door shut. 

Lovely watches as the Freelancer stares into the bouquet with a mixed feeling, something between fondness and extreme embarrassment, before they scream into the large sunflowers. 

They patiently wait for the Freelancer to get it out of their system before Lovely delicately asks, "So, uh, does Gavin do these sort of things often?"

"No. This is the first time ever." The Freelancer replies. Their voice is muffled because the flowers are still pressed onto their face. "That's what I get for dating an Incubus, I supposed..."

"Aww, don't be embarrassed, dude! I think it's super sweet how much Gavin loves you. Flowers and chocolates? Boy got some serious game; might even give Vincent a run for his money, and you should've seen how we first met."

The Freelancer peeks through the petals and is relieved to find that Lovely wasn't put off by Gavin's forward nature. In fact, they are very accepting of the Freelancer and Gavin's relationship.

Feeling the warmth on their cheeks slowly disappearing, the Freelancer made their way back to the couch. The rectangular package is tossed onto the couch, and the bouquet is on the coffee table. The Freelancer figured they could put the fresh flowers in a water-filled vase later. 

"The guy said that Gavin sent you some chocolates?" Lovely reiterate as the Freelancer began to untie the ribbon and unwraps the box. 

"Special chocolates, and knowing Gavin, I kinda have an idea of what kind of chocolates they are." They admit and make quick work of tearing the paper wrappings. 

Apparently, Gavin ordered two types of chocolates for his Deviant. One box holds a fancy gourmet assortment of salted almonds dipped in rich Belgium chocolate, double chocolate raspberry truffles, vanilla pieces powdered with light matcha and some white praliné hearts. 

Lovely whistle, impressed over the spread. "Your boyfriend really went all out for you!"

The box below it contains rows of heart-shaped chocolates, but the short message written on the card of said box proves it's anything but ordinary treats. 

'These are homemade chocolates made by one of my close associates. She's a Succubus, by the way, and renowned for her aphrodisiac desserts. You can try some first if your Energetic friend doesn't mind being a voyeur.'

The Freelancer promptly throws away the card and cues them, and Lovely shrieking in embarrassment. Neither of them expects the second batch of chocolates. 

"These are sexy chocolates? Like, legit aphrodisiac chocolates made with magic!? Oh my god, I didn't know they were a thing!"

"I didn't either! I was expecting sex toys below the chocolates!"

"Wait - didn't Gavin wants to give these to Vincent and me!? Dude, does he has a thing for Vincent? Because at this point, I should tell you: he noticed that Gavin was purposely riling us up when they first met, and he's been thinking that your boyfriend is out to get him. But, uh, not in the sexy way, but I'm thinking otherwise now. And if that's the case, then you can warn that Incubus to be ready and catch these hands."

The Freelancer groans and hides their face in their hands. "OK, you know what? I'm going to put the special chocolates in the fridge, and then we'll continue watching a few more videos from the playthrough and get back to studying."

"... You're in denial."

"I'm just trying to keep whatever sanity I have left. It's been a crazy year."

"Urgh, tell me about it."

-

That night, at Lovely's and Vincent's apartment: 

"Vincent, baby? I'm back. Look what I got!"

"Welcome home, Lovely. Dinner's ready if you're hungry. Hmm? What's that?"

"It's homemade aphrodisiac chocolates made by a Succubus. Gavin and the Freelancer gave some to us."

"...I'm gonna punch that Incubus in his smug ass face."

"...Does that mean you don't want them in the bedroom tonight?"

"OK, I'll punch him tomorrow. C'mere, Lovely. I've missed you."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

[peaches-writes]

meeting points

description: because overcoming heavy traffic is the new crossing oceans for people member: jisung / han genre: fluff, college au, not-so-long distance au, city life au, best friends to lovers au word count: 9.4k warning: explicit language, drinking, suggestive, food, traffic, heights, a clown note: i want to throw fists at han jisung but like with affection y’know

one - a new cafe

For almost 2 years now, you and Jisung have what Seungmin has once referred to as a semi-long distance friendship—only semi since you attend universities literally 20 minutes away from each other when there’s no traffic and friendship because, well, you’ve been best friends since high school. It’s not that you don’t have other friends who attend SNU like him or vice versa (but Yonsei University); rather, it’s that Jisung is the slowest replier in the world and you’re the second clingiest person in the world (just behind Hyunjin). Seeing each other in person as much as you can is an absolute must in order to keep Jisung from fully becoming one with his dorm, you sane from the academic pressure of tertiary education, and your overall friendship afloat. College students need to stick together somehow.

Unless it’s a bigger hangout with your mutual friends, you alternate locations depending on who has a heavier deadline to attend to afterward. When Jisung finds himself struggling to finish a song or needs to be at the campus radio station with the rest of 3racha later on, it’s you taking the bus to his university dorm; when it’s you slumped on term papers for your core subjects or on visual props your club needs, Jisung convinces Minho to let him carpool (since his night part-time job is on the way to your university). 

But even then, it’s more often that you make the tedious travel. Like today. 

On this particular day, it’s you seated on a bus and looking outside the window to pass the agonizingly slow time, sighing for the nth time at the evening rush hour. It’s only 6:20 PM on your phone and your bus is already on the connecting bridge but the endless sight of cars behind and ahead of you, against the darkness of the Han river and the bright city lights, doesn’t make you feel like you’ve crossed any distance. Jisung’s last text was a simple “stay safe” almost an hour ago when you got on the bus from the nearest stop outside your university. 

The two of you are you supposed to try the new cafe inside his campus for dinner since your recent hangouts have only been inside his dorm (with Hyunjin too since they’re roommates), watching old movies and eating take-out until Jisung accidentally falls asleep from power working beforehand. It’s nearing the semester break and everyone’s been sort of busy at SNU, but lately, Jisung’s been actually making an effort to make time for you and insisting that you hang out at the expense of his sleep.  

Backwards thinking but okay, you shrug one shoulder at the thought. You’ve talked about it once on call when his sudden initiative to meet started since you’re concerned about his well-being and that you have all the time in the world once break starts but Jisung unexpectedly fell asleep halfway and Hyunjin had to end the call. Two days later, Jisung texted you that he rented the movie you wanted to watch at the cinema for the weekend with an apology for falling asleep and assurance that he’s almost finished with his deadlines and that he’s asking you to hang out responsibly.

It’s not like you don’t like it, you are already on the way to SNU, after all. Besides, you’re still very much free from heavy academic and club activities since your professors scheduled their deadlines after the break and your club is not as active lately. Have fun now, suffer later as Seungmin and Changbin have told you when you told them your worries about Jisung’s sleep schedule. 

After a while of trying to count the cars on the bridge as your lane moves a little faster now, you open your phone and message Jisung to pass the time. You don’t always expect that he replies but it’s always the most reassuring when it’s him you’re contacting, even when it’s just casual. 

y/n: don’t u have radio tonight? [sent 6:32 PM] 

You’ve heard 3racha’s campus radio show on the several times you hung out at SNU during the day. They air live on Friday nights, Saturday if most of the all-student crew are busy, but the meetings are rather frequent when nearing holidays so you’re careful of leaving on time even on a non-Friday weekday like this.

y/n: just crossed ynghwa

y/n: bus is driving steady now!!! aaaaak

jisung: almost typed ‘arent u supposed to be looking at d road’ then i rmmbr that u don’t have a car LOL [sent 6:56 PM] 

y/n: so do u have a meeting later? 

jisung: no

At their dorms, Hyunjin is out for the night to god knows where but Jisung is quite certain it’s not for studying since he was dressed to the nines. When he got a text from you, he slowly but surely forced himself to stand up from his work area to get dressed. Though he’s the one who insisted on hanging out, it doesn’t change the fact that leaving his work is hard when he’s in his ‘zone’ but he has to since the new cafe’s apparently a 3-minute walk from his dorm but he has to meet you at the bus stop first.

y/n: ur probs not even dressed yet 

y/n: close that laptop nerd

Jisung couldn’t bring it in himself to reply because he was already preoccupied avoiding getting dissed by you again whenever he wears his favorite Supreme t-shirt. 

- 

You arrive at the bus stop at around 6:50 PM, just as Jisung arrives, panting heavily from running the remaining distance when he received an ‘almost there’ message from you. You offer him a bottle of water you forgot to take out from your backpack and he quickly swipes it from you, chugging down the contents as if his life depends on it. “Woah there, haven’t seen you in a long time. Drink slowly and breathe.” You rub his arm comfortingly as the two of you stand on the empty sidewalk. Behind you, your bus drives away. “You didn’t have to run, you know, I could’ve just met up with you wherever you are.” 

He then stops drinking just to breathlessly say, “But it’s dark and there could be creeps out.”  

You’re touched but still concerned. “Still. I have you on speed dial, remember?” 

When Jisung’s fully recovered, the two of you walk to the cafe together, catching up on what’s happened in your own lives in the past week since you last met. There’s not much, actually, since Jisung really doesn’t go out often unless it’s for classes, the radio show, or some of his other friends insisted and you’re almost always with your dorm mates, Lia and Ryujin, or with Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin. 

“Minho says they have good Americano.” Eventually you arrive and Jisung immediately points to the several posters on the window, showcasing the cafe’s specialty. 

“And how many days have you been running only on Americano?” You point out in an almost scolding tone. You approach the counter now where there are barely any people in line since most customers are already seated. 

“Not that long!” He holds up his hands in the air. “Just 2 weeks!” 

“Jisung!”  

He imitates you dramatically with,“Y/N!” to which you only roll your eyes to. 

“Good evening, how may I take your order?” The barista asks. 

Jisung opens his mouth to speak but you hold an arm in front of him and turn to the barista, “One pesto, one lasagna, the chicken wings for sharing, two glasses of water, one cheesecake, and one strawberry cake, please.” 

“Y/N, this is a cafe, where their specialty is coffee.” Jisung teases dryly as the barista takes note of your order, a last attempt at getting himself another cup of Americano. 

So without turning to him, you tell the barista, “Also, can you add an additional Americano—?”

“Finally—” “Two shots for me, not him.” 

The barista only laughs at your banter. “Name please?” 

“Y/N.”  

While you’re conversing with the barista, Jisung shoots daggers to the side of your face, dramatically declaring, “I’m stealing your Americano.” 

But you only drop your arm in front of him as the barista says, “That would be 12,000 won.” 

“Oh, he’s paying.” 

Either way, Jisung reluctantly pays with the sole motivation to get a sip from your iced Americano. 

“Seriously, though, cut the Americano for a little while, maybe until finals.” You point out as you settle on a nearby table that has just been cleaned by staff. “Do you even know what a water dispenser looks like at this point?”

“I drink water.” He pouts, opting to sit down next to you to show that he really has all intents to steal your Americano. “It just doesn’t give me ideas for my projects.” 

“You have one practical project due before the break. What about the other times you do work?” 

“I do them quickly.” 

You sigh in defeat. “Ah, seriously?”

When the barista calls for your name at the counter, Jisung holds you down by the shoulder and makes a run for the counter, taking a long sip of your Americano until you caught up to him. 

“Success!” He exclaims, proud of himself, as he takes one of the two trays. 

“Satisfied with your Americano?” You take the other tray in defeat, walking back to your table with him. 

“Hm, I don’t knoooow.” He teases in sing-song, sitting next to you again instead of across from you as he would usually do. “You might finish everything before even finishing your pasta.” 

“I’m not too much in a coffee mood, actually.” You scrunch up your nose. The two of you then proceed on taking your respective orders off the tray, setting the trays aside. 

“But after the break, you will be.” He states matter-of-factly. “How many projects do you have due after the break?” 

“I can only remember six because I really don’t want to think about them right now.” You steal a small slice of cheesecake from him as an unwritten exchange for his unlimited share of your iced Americano. “As Seungmin and Changbin once said, ‘have fun now, suffer later.’“ 

“Oh, I’m fun?” 

You turn to your side to look at him, finding him looking back at you with a triumphant smile. “You’re not letting me live this down, won’t you?” 

“No, it’s getting added to my list of Y/N compliments!” 

You roll your eyes, taking another slice of cheesecake. He reiterates with his now third sip of Americano—you’re not even sure anymore because you’re pretty sure he’s already drank half of it. 

“I said drink your water, jeez.” You slide him his glass of water, barely a quarter empty. You take the Americano from him, taking your own long sip of the drink.

“I will, I will! Just one last si—” “Han Jisung, let me drink my damn coffee!” “Okay, fine, let’s exchange!” 

-   

You leave the cafe when it’s nearing 9 PM. Somehow, when you’re with Jisung and food, you barely check the time, much less your phone, since your table gets messy from stealing each other’s dessert plates and, for tonight, Jisung drinking most of your Americano. You and Jisung also had a lot to say about your respective classes in a full-on rant session since there’s only 2 weeks left until everyone is on semester break.  

“There’s not much traffic at this time, isn’t there?” Jisung asks you as he walks you back to the bus stop. He holds a paperbag containing your take-out cakes for your roommates. “You might fall asleep and miss your stop again.” 

“Says the guy who sleeps on people during calls.” You tease with an elbow to his side. He tries to slap you back on your arm but you walk ahead enough to be out of his reach, sticking your tongue out at him. “There isn’t much traffic now, though, it’s only Thursday.” 

“Y/N.” He laughs while calling your name, covering his mouth. “It’s Friday.” 

Your eyes, of course, widen in surprise. “It is?” He only nods at this, finding amusement in the way your expression quickly turns into that of horror. “Ah, shit, I told my roommates we hang out tomorrow!”

“Why, do you have to do the dishes or something?” 

But checking your phone, you only find a ‘wya’ message from Ryujin. Almost as quickly as you started panicking, you calm down again. “Oh, it’s fine.” You conclude, shoving your phone back in your coat pocket. “It’s just that they sometimes think I died at the library or something and end up making a big scene about it. Last time, our batch FB group got spammed.”

“Wow, then you judge me for always being cooped up in the dorms?” 

“That’s different—I actually go out and walk. I’m surprised you can even run to the bus stop a while ago.”   

Jisung threatens to swing your take-out bag at you. You only take it lightheartedly by holding your hands up in front of him, laughing. 

But all jokes and banter aside, you give him a hug before boarding the bus. “Text me when you get home.” He recites his constant line when it’s you leaving. “Or when you miss your bus.” 

“Shut up.” You mumble on his shoulder, punching his back hard before pulling away. “I hope you trip on your way back.”

“‘Night, Y/N.” “See you when I see you, nerd.” 

two - a park 

After a month of living off of ramen and iced Americano, barely seeing the sun, and hearing the same chords and melodies on repeat, Jisung passes the song he’s been working a week later. Besides this, he only has three papers left to tweak before he can fully enjoy the semester break without any sort of guilt.

To celebrate, it’s you inviting him this time to ride bicycles so he can move around but also relax. You picked the park at Ichon that’s on your side of the Han river but still far away from university so you don’t think of schoolwork the entire time.

On this particular hangout, you took the same bus but at different times. He boarded the bus first before you, arriving some 30 minutes after you’ve arrived at your nearest stop. Since it’s a Saturday morning, the traffic’s not too heavy.

“You look nice.” Jisung nudges you with one shoulder as you take a seat on the spot he saved you. The bus is not full since the rush hour had just gone.

“It’s just a t-shirt and shorts.” You reply flatly, hiding the fact that you actually thought a lot about your outfit last night. You even wore your good sneakers and denim jacket today.

“Yes, but it’s your other other favorite graphic shirt.” He points out. “The one for when we’re outdoors.”

Oh, so he noticed.

“Yes because someone has to look cute.” But you actually think Jisung looks nice even when he wears the same Supreme shirt like today—you’re just too in deep with the teasing to compliment him.

“I compliment the rainbow shirt you always wear when we sightsee but you diss my Supreme shirt.” He rolls his eyes. “Ah, people these days.”

“Because you’re always in and out of university in that.” To emphasis, you tease him further by scooting away. “Do you even wash that?”

“Of course I do.” He confidently and lightheartedly answers, putting an arm on your shoulder and pulling you back. “While it’s in the laundry, I wear my other Supreme shirt, or my other other Supreme shirt—“

“Yikes.” You tsk at him, crossing your arms. “This is what staying inside all day does to you.”

“That’s why you’re here, my Y/N, to take me out.”

“I was reduced to the role of babysitter.”

“I was going for hangout or date but you called yourself babysitter.”

-

Arriving at Ichon park, you make a quick snack stop at the nearest convenience store first. Since it’s your turn to pay, Jisung makes sure to buy all of his favorites (sans an iced Americano this time as your only condition to pay for him). You fill an entire basket with snacks and drinks both for when you ride a bicycle and for when you settle down for a picnic later at lunch.

“By the way, did you bring the mat?” You ask Jisung as you walk to the renting station, remembering that he and Hyunjin have the picnic mat you and your bigger circle of friends use for outings like this.

“Of course I did, what do you take me for?” He unzips his backpack to show you the blue gingham pattern Seungmin picked out two years ago. Aesthetic, he said. “I’m not the one who mistakes dates.”

“And I’m not the one who had to ask what the picnic mat looks like the other night despite having it for 4 months now.” After a few more steps, you arrive at the renting station. “I was just making sure.”

You then rent two bicycles, both with baskets for your belongings.

“Y/N, wear a hat.” Jisung reminds you while putting in his.

You frown. You did bring a cap but you also put a lot of effort on your hair today. “It’s going to ruin my hair.”

“The sun’s going to burn your hair if you don’t.” He takes your cap from your hands and gently places it on top of your hair before you can even reiterate, a small smile gracing his face at your speechless expression. “There.”

The fuck is he on? Still, your heart beats erratically at his sporadic gestures. Being Jisung’s best friend is a bit of a rollercoaster.

Especially lately.

Before you know it, Jisung’s already on his bicycle, urging you to do the same. Half-dazed, the two of you leisurely circle the entire stretch of the park, pointing at random landmarks across the river and eating your snacks.

Since this hangout’s also meant as a celebratory one, you let Jisung let loose and yell, “I’m done with my projects!” while extending his hands out as he cycles. You think to yourself that you have the rest of the year having a heart attack over that.

-

The park is full of families, friends, and couples on a Sunday that you almost couldn’t find a spot to lay your picnic mat on when the two of you got too tired of cycling around. You couldn’t consider sitting on a park bench since Jisung was getting sleepy as well, a result of not having a proper sleep schedule and a half in the past weeks.

So, after almost twenty minutes, you managed to secure a place from a couple who was just leaving for the nearby Namsan tower.

“Thank you so much again!” You thank the couple who even helps you set up the picnic mat while you let Jisung temporarily rest on the bare grass with his backpack as a pillow, sleep quickly catching onto him.

“No problem.” The woman says with a smile.

“Have fun on your own date.” The man adds, placing an arm on his date’s shoulders.

“Oh we’re not—“ But before you could even finish, the couple’s already walked away. You sigh, squatting down to Jisung’s eye level this time. “Jisung wake up, mat’s ready.”

He scrunches his nose with a groan, about to roll over to the opposite direction until you stopped him and rolled him towards the mat. His head lands soundlessly on the ground, forcing him to open his eyes.

“Damn, I thought I was going to land on your lap.” He rubs the area on his head that hit the grass.

You sit down next to him, taking out the sandwiches you bought from the convenience store. “Who do you think rolled you over, dumbass? For a genius, your sense of direction is quite questionable.”

“But can I?” He looks up at you now, poking your bare thigh. “Do you need like a blanket or something?”

You remind yourself that this is the same guy who threatened to smack you with a box of cake last week and dropkicked you once (but that’s another story). “Fine, go ahead.”

As if he woke up just a little with wide eyes and a genuinely happy expression on his face, Jisung scoots over while laying down (which makes you stifle a giggle because he looks like a worm doing it) until his head lays on your lap. You push a bottle of water and two bags of sandwiches next to his shoulders. “You have to eat later, though, okay?”

Looking down at him, you surprise yourself by finding him with his eyes still open. He busies himself with lazily getting his phone and earphones from his bag, putting on an earbud and offering you the other. “I saved my project for you to listen to.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to sleep?” Nevertheless, you take the earbud just as the music starts to play.

“Yeah, but I’m suddenly hyper-aware and awake.” He shrugs, taking the sandwich on his side. “You know, like when kids get put to bed from sleeping somewhere else.”

“So you do think you’re a kid?”

“Shush, this is the good part in the song.”

You chuckle, opting to not reply vocally to enjoy the song you’ve been hearing fragments off for the past month. The two of you then eat and listen in silence, that is until he asks you for comments at the end and the two of you discuss it for a while then it’s back to comfortable silence again but with different music as you scroll through your phone and Jisung tries to nap again.

Jisung falls asleep once he has a good look at you without your phone in the way.

-

At the end of the day, around 4 PM so you don’t get stuck in rush hour traffic, you take the same bus again but this time, it’s you leaving first.

The only problem is that despite a year and a half of frequenting your side of the Han river, Jisung still can’t seem to memorize bus stops well, forcing you to stay awake the entire ride.

“Y/N—“ “No, Jisung, we’re still three stops away.”

You don’t even have to look up from your phone to know that Jisung’s still looking out of the window as he’s had for the past 20 minutes, trying to gues your stop. At hearing your answer, he decides to stop, turning his head to the other direction as you text your groupchat.

“What’s up?” He rests his head on your shoulder casually to get a better view of the messages you’re skimming through, sending a shiver down your spine.

You try shrugging him off his shoulder but he shows no initiative to move. “Everyone’s starting to talk about the annual Halloween party. You’d know if you check the chat often.”

Away from your view, Jisung frowns. “I get ideas of what you’re talking about from how Hyunjin reacts to them, especially to the memes, thank you very much.”

“Well, at least you’re a bit better than Changbin when it comes to being online.” You say, more to yourself than to Jisung. “Anyway, you, Hyunjin, and Chan are in charge of the guest list. Chan just suggested that you squeeze it in your next radio show this week since the party’s the next night—maximum of 50 people!”

“Oh, yeah, we can do that.” He nods. “Any news on the venue?”

At this, you release a sigh of frustration. “Seungmin and Changbin booked a rooftop in Itaewon of all places.”

“Isn’t that cool? Why are you sighing?”

“Speak for yourself, Jisung. Remember last year?” You close your phone now but Jisung’s head still remains on your shoulder. “I don’t want to deal with a lot of drunk college kids again—especially not on a rooftop and not when I really deserve a drink.”

“Nah, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as last year.” He tries to say dismissively but the two of you know exactly know crazy it was last year, especially for Jisung.

“Which is why I told Minho that we buy the alcohol together on Wednesday—so no one does anything too stupid.” You shrug Jisung completely off of your shoulder now since you’re nearing your stop and he complies, caught off-guard with the way you said you and Minho are doing something together. “Okay, Sung, this is my stop.”

You stand up and Jisung almost does the same in his absentminded state. “So are you carpooling with Minho on Saturday?”

“Yeah, I need to do something for my club before going to the party but we’re sending the drinks early in case we’re late.” You say quickly. “Okay, I gotta go. See you this break?”

“Hm, see you.”

When the bus moves again, there is a sinking feeling in Jisung’s stomach until the view of you walking back to your university disappears.

three - a supermarket

You invited Lia to help you and Minho to buy liquor at the nearby supermarket after Minho’s classes, only to find out that Minho brought 3racha along.

“It’s not that I don’t trust your box-carrying skills but I don’t trust your liquor-handling skills.” Minho explains when he sees your surprised expression at seeing Chan wave at you and Lia from the front passenger seat. “That goes literally and figuratively.”

“I mean, I feel the same which is why Lia’s here but, really? You trust Jisung and Changbin with liquor?”

“Hyunjin’s out with someone again and Jeongin might get carded again.” Changbin shrugs from the open passenger seat window.

“Seungmin? Jeongin? Felix?”

“Do you think we’d actually let them touch alcohol until Saturday?” “Right.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be fine. We’re buying for around 50 people right?” Lia asks Minho as the two of you squeeze in the back seat of his car.

“Yeah, so that’s about 6 boxes since the venue’s also providing some drinks.”

“What about snacks?” “Covered by the venue too.”

“How many bottles can fit in 1 box?” You mumble to yourself but Jisung, sitting very closely next to you, hears.

“Around 10 to 15, probably.” He says, startling you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be finishing papers?”

“I already finished them waaaay back.” He smirks at you coolly. “While being a ‘cave man’ at the dorms like you said. You’re supposed to be proud I’m voluntarily going out today.” 

He’s too prideful to admit that he finished his remaining work in the 3-day window you didn’t see each other so he can tag along today.

-

At the supermarket, you split up in teams, each with two baskets to fill. Changbin and Lia head off to the liquor store outside the main supermarket while Minho and Chan go to the liquor aisle inside the supermarket. You and Jisung, on the other hand, stick together, browsing the other aisles instead after being in the same liquor aisle but at different sections with Minho and Chan. No reason, you both just felt like it.

“Do you think we have enough budget to sneak in a bag of candies?” You think out loud, holding a bag of mint candies from the shelf. “I’m not sure if I want this one but Minho likes it.” 

“Minho probably wouldn’t notice—maybe he’ll even think he put that in himself.” Jisung says, standing really close to you and examining the candies himself. Your two baskets of alcohol bottles are half-forgotten to the side. “Why do you even want to buy candies for him? If you want it, though I can buy it for you.”

You give him a skeptical look, only then noticing how easily your shoulders brush against each other. “Why are you standing really close?” You voice your observation out loud, making him turn his head to you with a pout. “I mean sure go ahead but you’re literally blocking the light.”

“I can’t?” To emphasis, he leans some of his body weight to you, just enough to make you hold onto him by his arm at the feeling that you’ll tip over if you don’t. Succeeding, he smirk triumphantly and takes your hand off of his arm so that he can put in on your shoulder. “Y/N, I missed youuu.”

“We saw each other 3 days ago.” You huff, more to yourself than to him because he really is making you nervous. “You’re so clingy today, that’s my job!”

“Sus, I can’t miss you after 3 days now? When it’s already my break and you’re still attending some classes?” He pouts, holding his arms open. “Come here.”

“What? Why?” At this point, you’re just getting a serious whiplash from his sudden clinginess. That’s my job, how dare he?

When you don’t budge, eyes still narrowed at him, he moves forward himself, trapping you in a hug. “I want to hug you, idiot.”

“What if I don’t want to?” “I’m still hugging you.”

You simply give in this time, the two of you just standing there until Chan passed by to get Minho candies.

“Dudes, come on, we’re buying alcohol.” He reminds with an amused smile, snatching the bag of mint candies from your grasp. “Get moving, lovebirds.”

“We’re n—“ “We’ll be right there.”

You pretend on swinging a bag of gummy bears at him. When he asks you why, you only run back to the liquor aisle to meet Chan and Minho.

-

More bickering, some alcoholic jokes, and the woman at the check-out counter asking for your I.D.s later, the 6 of you rest and eat ice cream at a parlour near the check-out before leaving, your boxes of alcohol carefully placed together at the end of your table.

“So how many people are actually going?” Lia asks Chan over her chocolate ice cream.

“Around thirty-people already responded to the invite.” Chan answers. You wince every time he bites his ice cream. Every person to themselves but biting ice cream is just a no for you. “When the Friday show airs, hopefully more people go.”

“We had 100 people last year, right?”

“That’s because these geniuses thought they can handle a hundred drunks at a house party.” You recall the chaotically eventful party last year. “We’re cutting in half since we’re at a rooftop party and I don’t want to see people jumping off the 4th floor.”

“Also since not a lot of people dress up.” Jisung frowns. The party has always been a costume party when it started 3 years ago but somehow, a lot of the guests you’re not particularly close with always show up in the bare minimum.

“Ooh, what are you guys dressing up as this year?” Minho asks, suddenly excited at the topic of costumes.

“Might just go as a vampire again this year since I won’t have much time preparing this Saturday.” You frown.

“Hey, I wanted to go as a vampire!” Chan complains.

“You already went as a vampire last year! Can we not match again?” 

“What about you Minho?” Lia asks, disinterested in your bicker with Chan.

“I haven’t decided yet.” He shrugs. “Ask Jisung.”

Lia turns to Jisung who enthusiastically answers, “It’s a surprise!”

“It’s probably the horse head again.” You roll your eyes, knowing his enthusiasm very well. “But we’re just going to pretend that it’s a surprise on Saturday.”

“You better do.” Jisung pouts.

“Have you even washed that horse mask since last year?” Minho narrows his eyes at the younger boy. 

You yourself didn’t even expect that he’d keep it for this year especially after what happened.

Yikes. 

“Minho, you know I do! I take it out sometimes to scare Hyunjin’s dates!”

-

You head to the events place in Itaewon after. From the photos in your groupchat, it’s an average-sized building in relation to the others in this particular district, holding a convenience store on the first floor, a BBQ place on the 2nd floor, and miscellaneous offices on the 3rd—one of which rents the rooftop for events.

“So why did we have to buy drinks at the supermarket again?” Changbin asks, still trying to catch his breath from carrying so many boxes of alcohol. 

“Because supermarket alcohol is slightly better than convenience store ones.” You answer matter-of-factly. “It’s semester break and Halloween. Indulge a little,  Binnie.” 

“Y/N has plans to get wasted.” Jisung spoils to everyone, making you call out his name from the front seat. You asked to exchanged seats with Chan after loading the boxes at the back of the car so you can have a run through of the food and drinks. Throughout the whole ride, he’s been hell-bent on exposing you. 

“Then it’s counterproductive to buy those hard drinks.” 

“Who says I’m sharing them?” You chuckle. You didn’t expect that anyone but Jisung would notice that you bought smaller drinks for yourself. 

Then the car is quiet for a while sans the music playing from Jisung’s phone which you immediately recognized as one of the playlists 3racha played on a broadcast before. 

When you get stuck in temporary traffic on the last intersection before the venue, you then turn to Minho. “Minho, aren’t you afraid of heights? Is 4 floors okay?”  

Glancing at Minho for a response, he nods while still looking at the road. “The place’s really nice in person. I went with Seungmin yesterday.”

“If you say it’s nice then I’d probably feel guilty of letting people trash the place this weekend.” Because it’s true, if Lee Minho calls something nice or pretty, it’s really really nice or pretty.

“It’s really spacious so you don’t have to stare at the ground below all the time, lots of picnic chairs and tables with the big-ass umbrellas, fairy lights, and a sound system when people want to karaoke or need mics.”

“Ah, yes, very much of Seungmin’s aesthetic.”

“I’d like to be acknowledged too, thank you.” Changbin says from your rear view mirror view.

“Thank you Changbin.” You tease him with a laugh. “What did you like about the place?”

And before Changbin could even answer seriously, the rest of the car answers in chorus, “There are lots of glitter and foil decorations.” before breaking into laughter. 

“There are beach props too! There’s fake grass and everything so it looks cheerful!” Changbin defends but to no avail because you only end up laughing. “Seungmin didn’t like it but I insisted that we borrow it for the party.”

You arrive at the building afterward, handing the alcohol to the staff on their 3rd floor office and finalizing the food you’re going to have on the party. 

“We’ll see you on Saturday night, then?” The owner of the building confirms once you’ve covered all the inquiries you have. 

Chan nods. “Me and the guy who booked the place, Seungmin, will be here first on Saturday night around 6 PM.” 

“What are you doing at 6 PM that you have to be late on Saturday?” Jisung whispers next to you, diverting your attention from looking at the view next to you to him as he looks at you expectantly. 

“Cramming a poster while waiting for a club meeting.” You frown. “Not everyone had their school day on Friday.” 

“Can’t you skip?” 

“Hm? Why?” You nudge his shoulder, as if trying to take out the pouty expression he wears on his face. “I told you I’m carpooling with Minho on that day so it’s fine.” 

“But stiiill. I won’t save your alcohol.” 

“No need, I already asked Seungmin to do it...and even asked Felix to watch you before I get here.” 

“What did you bribe those two with?”

“Tickets to Lotte world.” 

Jisung narrows his eyes at you but he’s thoroughly impressed. “You’re too smart.” 

“I have to outsmart you somehow when it comes to doing something stupid.” You shrug with a chuckle. “Plus, traffic’s really heavy on Saturday since everyone’s going home that day.” 

“You really should just ditch club.” He shrugs. “It’s the last day anyway.”  

“I can’t, dumbass, that’s part of my grade. Really, it’s fine, at least I’m with Minho on that day so we can be late together.” 

Before Jisung could argue further, however, Lia approaches the two of you. “Ready to go, guys?”

four - a rooftop party

Sometimes, you hate it when Jisung is right. Turns out, the meeting you had for your club was relatively pointless and could’ve just been discussed over e-mail or your club groupchat. Still, it ended at around 9:15 PM because most of your club mates arrived later than the 7:35 PM you agreed on and the stubborn president didn’t want to start the meeting until everyone was there. 

Still, you passed your posters (which you definitely crammed at the school library prior) and made a lot of suggestions during the meeting which felt rewarding enough to make up for the frustrations you can’t vocally tell your seniors over causing a lot of inconveniences to your meeting. Just think that’s going to be you in a few years, Y/N, so try to understand, you think to yourself as you return to an empty dorm. Ryujin already informed you over text that she and Lia already left with Yeji to pick up Chaeryeong from her university. 

“Now, for costume.” You mumble under your breath, heading straight to your room.

After much thought on which black clothes to wear, you got dressed quickly to attend to your make-up faster. Since you’re a vampire again like last year, you have to put in more effort on your hair and make-up—you’re definitely not winning best costume but at least you look decent (and definitely not wearing the same clothes from last year) for the endless pictures Hyunjin’s going to take of everyone later. 

 When you’re already halfway to your make-up, Minho decides on spamming you, your phone lighting up and displaying 9:58 PM. Shit. 

minho: here!!! 

minho: traffic still heavy 

minho: chan asked for reinforcements btw

minho: so were stopping at d mart

minho: pls don’t tell me ur putting make-up blood on ur face [sent 10:03 PM]

You groan, typing a quick “i am” reply to his last message before quickly finishing your make-up and heading out. 

y/n: ok otw [sent 10:06 PM]

You quickly spot Minho’s car right outside of your dorm, his tinted windows rolling down as you approach. Opening the car, your eyes widen in brief surprise before crinkling into a laugh as you get in and close the door. “W-what the...what the fuck, Minho?”  

“Don’t.” He holds a threatening finger up in front of your face, putting his hand back on the steering wheel as you drive away from your dorm. But even he stifles from his own laughter. “The kids asked that we buy 10 more bottles of the whiskey Chan picked out since Hyunjin made cocktails with it and a lot of people want more.” 

“W—wh...sorry, it’s just that I can’t concentrate when you’re looking like this.” You end up laughing for the rest of your first 2 minutes inside the car and almost forgetting what you were going to ask. 

This year,  Minho is a Korean traditional woman for Halloween.

“So,” You start when you’ve recovered, holding a hand to your chest to steady your breathing. “So, are you going out to the mart or do I have to sacrifice myself?” 

“You can air drop the pic of the whiskey brand on your phone.” He answers. 

You sigh, putting on a jacket you find on the back seat to cover your exposed torso for when you go out to the supermarket. 

- 

At the supermarket, people only gave you brief stares because of the fake blood dripping from your chin to your collarbones before their attentions turned to another person (probably from another Halloween party) dressed as a literal YouTube video picking up snacks. Though you’re relieved, you made your exit quick after your purchase, pushing the cart as fast as you can to the nearby parking spot Minho’s car occupied, because your phone suddenly started ringing from consecutive messages from Jisung, of all people. 

jisung: y/n where r uuuu

jisung: party started at 6! 6! 

jisung: seungmin playing truth or drink 

jisung: changbin singing at karaoke

jisung: also i drank ur mules 

jisung: n ur peach sojus

jisung: but i shared w felix! [sent 10:25 PM] 

You sigh, particularly at reading the last message after successfully loading your box of whiskey at the back of the car. You were too hopeful trusting even Seungmin and Felix. 

y/n: otw w minho [sent 10:25 PM] 

“Jisung’s really drunk again.” You inform Minho once you’re on the road again. “I can’t even trust Seungmin or Felix now.” 

“Well, you’ll have to keep texting him because the traffic going to Itaewon doesn’t seem to be moving.” Minho sighs. “You know he’ll sleep dehydrated if he’s that bored by himself to text you.” 

You groan. “No shortcuts?” 

“Even the shortcuts are flooded. I swear, everyone’s travelling home or partying tonight.” 

You lean back on your seat, taking a few deep breaths. If there’s anyone that shouldn’t be left alone at a party, it’s one Han Jisung. 

- 

At the party, Jisung sits at the bar, accompanying Hyunjin as he re-discovers his drunken talent of mixing cocktails. He scrolls through his phone absentmindedly with the occasional sips of the peach soju he’s been struggling to finish for 20 minutes now, having no motivation to join Changbin and Felix at the karaoke or Chan, Jeongin, and Seungmin playing more drinking games with most of the guests. 

“Jisung, you’re sulking.” Hyunjin points out as he gives another guest his new cocktail recipe. 

“No, I’m not.” Jisung frowns and hiccups through his big horse mask even when the older boy can’t actually see. 

“You’ve been in there for the past 20 minutes.” Hyunjin knocks on Jisung’s horse mask for emphasis. He’s no better, actually, dressing up as a big giraffe head since Felix decided to be the Joker this year. “Literally the last time I saw your face, you were texting Y/N.” 

“Y/NNNN! Why aren’t Y/N and Minho here yet? I want to see Y/NNNNN!” 

“Well, it’s traffic out.” At the very end of the bar, Hyunjin can see the heavy traffic below. “Everyone’s going home or eating out tonight.” 

“But I want Y/NNN!” Jisung is fumbling around now, narrowly missing his bottle of peach soju since the horse mask doesn’t have a good view from the weird eyes. “Where is Y/N?” 

Though his friend is incredibly drunk now, the tipsy Hyunjin still tries to keep a decent conversation so Jisung doesn’t accidentally fall asleep on his mask again. “You saw each other a lot the past weeks, though? Unlike when it’s a regular school week and you barely reply to them on chat.” 

“But that’s because I’m not as busy then as I was this semester.” Jisung manages to slur after a while before momentarily taking his horse mask off just enough for him to take a long sip of his peach soju with a metal straw he found somewhere in his backpack a while ago. “I miss Y/N when I’m busy.” 

“What about when you’re not busy?” “I also miss them when I’m busy.” 

Hyunjin sighs. “Just say you have a crush on them and go.” 

And he’s not sure if Jisung actually heard him but the boy replies with a muffled sigh. “Having a crush from people in different universities is hard!” 

- 

You open your phone to check the time, the twelfth time you’ve done so in the past hour since you’ve been stuck in the now moving traffic. Eleven-twenty PM on the dot, the party could either be still in full swing with everyone drunk off their asses or dying down with everyone drunk off their asses—either way, most of the liquor are probably gone now (even the one you asked Seungmin to guard for you) and the reinforcement’s probably not a good idea already. Next to you, Minho sighs, “Not that it’s annoying but you keep checking your phone and frowning every time you do. It’s scary, especially since you look more like a depressed vampire than a slutty one.”

“Thanks, Minho.” You roll your yes, closing your phone and putting it down on your lap.

“You’re really that excited much to see your boyfriend?”

You glare daggers through his side profile. “He’s not my boyfriend and I’m more worried than excited because he’s really bad at drinking. Remember last year—”

“It wasn’t that b—”

“Minho, he was crying because he thought his mask was stuck on his head.”

“But—” “He also tried drinking soju while crying and wearing his mask.”

Knowing he’s on the losing side of the argument, Minho waves his hand dismissively, eyes still on the road. The traffic’s moving steady now. “Anyway, there’s 50 people there someone has to be sober-ish somehow.”

“Uh huh, sure, someone is.” You reply dryly. Though this party has a larger attendance list than your friend group’s usual hangouts since it’s your annual Halloween party, you can’t help but remain distrustful. Your friends aka the worst drunks ever are hosting, for God’s sake.

“Why don’t you text someone so you’d feel less nervous?” Minho suggests after a while.  

And this time, you actually listen to him and open your phone again, opting to text Chan.

y/n: y’all still alive?

y/n: we’re about to turn right to the venue [sent 11:28 PM]  

chan: shit’s lit!!!!!!

“Yup, even Chan’s drunk.” You conclude, closing your phone as Minho pulls up to the building. Minho sighs for probably the nth time tonight, exiting the car when you do. “Come on, ahjumma, we’re checking if our friends are still alive.” 

- 

Arriving at the party by the service elevator the staff kindly showed you, you almost kicked the box of whiskey bottles you placed on the ground in surprise once the doors opened and Chan greeted you dressed as a clown. “Finally, you’ve arrived!” He exclaims through his semi-faded white make-up and red nose, completely ignoring the way you just had the shock of your life. “Here, let me help you with the whiskey.” 

You recover quickly, helping Minho and Chan lift the box to the nearby bar where Hyunjin is still busy mixing drinks. “Chan, why are you dressed as a clown?” 

“Twitter poll.” He answers nonchalantly. “You should see Jeongin, he’s a life-size bread.” 

Carefully setting the box on the ground for Hyunjin (who is more than grateful that the whiskey finally arrived), your expression returns to that of concern. “So, where’s Jisung?” 

“Oh, he said he was going to take pictures by the railings with the good view.” Hyunjin shrugs. Panic sets on your face. “Don’t worry! There’s like a lot of people there right now! And I gave him water a while ago!” 

You swip a bottle of peach soju and a bottle of water you saw hidden expertly under the counter from your view on the ground, sighing. “I swear to God, you guys are the worst hosts ever.” 

And so you set out to find Jisung amidst the most random crowd of costumes ever. You spot Changbin dressed as Kim Shin and a Joker Felix still competing for higher scores on the karaoke and passed by baguette Jeongin and sunflower Seungmin who are now hosting a very drunken Whisper Challenge with your seniors, Younghyun who wears a big report card on his neck, Jae who’s dressed in Chicken Little’s clothes, Snow White Sana, and a pirate Jeongyeon. 

If it’s any consolation, at least people dressed up better this year compared to last year. 

“Ryujin, have you seen Jisung?” You near the viewing area on the other side of the rooftop where the light gets progressively fewer. 

“He’s over there.” Your roommate points to an empty area with only a few tables and outdoor lights. 

“Where?” 

“Oh, he’s laying down somewhere. He’s still wearing the horse mask if that helps.” 

“Thank you!” You part ways as you open your phone, turning on the flashlight to find Jisung. 

From your area of the rooftop, the EDM music Chan mixed for this party already sounds faint and the traffic below sounds louder. You point your flashlight on the ground but also look ahead for any shadow of a horse mask. 

“Han Jisung.” You call for him in a loud whisper, in case he fell asleep since he’s sound-sensitive when drunk. “Yah, I swear to God, we’re not hosting another party again if you’re dead somewhere.” 

You repeat this a few times, changing baseless threats in hopes that it alerts him, until you find him raising a hand up in the air. “Here.” He responds tiredly to you, his voice not muffled by a mask this time as he’s long set it down next to him. He spots you immediately, illuminated by the garden lights. “You look pretty.”

“Thanks?” You approach carefully, pointing your flashlight away from his face and kneeling beside him. “Why are you laying down on the ground?” 

You contemplate on laying down next to him but then you remember that you left your jacket in Minho’s car at the thought that the denim doesn’t go with your all-black ensemble. The bare floor’s already cold on your bare legs, how much more on your exposed back? “Anyway, drink this water later.” 

But Jisung seems to ignore you, pushing you gently away by your arm. “I’m looking at the stars, Y/N, move over.” He groans. “Turn the light off too.” 

You scoff. “You can’t see the stars—” But as you look up at the purple night sky, you see countless of twinkling stars. Caught off guard, you turn your light off. “—here. Oh.” 

“Do you want to lay down?” When you turn to look back down at Jisung, he’s already sitting up slowly. Moving away a little so that you’re not in his way, he then takes his jacket off and places it on the ground. “You can use my jacket. It’s fine.” 

You hand him your water bottle and place your peach soju next to his horse mask. “Sure...” Reluctantly, you lay down on Jisung’s jacket. 

Jisung chugs down half of the water before laying down again, next to you this time. 

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask, sparing a glance in his direction as you do so. Jisung only shakes his head. 

“I thought you’d never come.” He pouts, still looking at the stars. He’s slowly sobering up now, making it harder to look at you in the eye. 

“Traffic.” You heave a long sigh. “Hyunjin also made Minho and I buy extra drinks.” 

It’s silent for a moment, you glance at Jisung for the second time to check if he’s fallen asleep again but you see a very concentrated expression on his face as he looks at the stars. “Are you still drunk?” You shake his arm, immediately getting his attention. 

“Do you like Minho?” He suddenly blurts out, catching you off-guard. What makes matters worse is that he didn’t even spare you a glance while. 

“What?!” You exclaim. At this point, you just regret not drinking your peach soju before joining him. 

“Do you like him? Like like-like as in...hold on, the word like’s getting too redundant here...” In the darkness, Jisung turns beet red the more he looks away from you, not even realizing that you’re equally flushed from trying to hold in your laughter. 

Where is this going? You can only think to yourself as he was rambling. 

“Jisung, I only like Minho when he offers carpool and free drinks when we hang out.” You sit up this time, extending your hand out past him to your soju bottle. You’re definitely drinking to this unusual conversation. “Why did you suddenly think I like him?"

You don’t remember doing anything with Minho that would make Jisung think this way.

Leaning even more towards Jisung’s direction, you see a faint glimpse of his embarrassed expression—his hand covering his eyes as he curses under his breath. You drink a little bit more of your peach soju before nudging him with the bottom of the bottle. “What made you say that?”

“No.” He replies as calmly as he can, hand still covering his face. At that moment, he wishes he could put the horse mask back on quickly so he can run away while hiding his face. 

You try prying his hand away but to no avail. He looks at you on his own accord a moment later but even then he doesn’t hold eye contact for long. 

“It’s silly, just the soju.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Can you lay down again so I don’t have you see your face? Not that the make-up is bad, it’s just really embarrassing when you’re looking down on me like this.” 

You chuckle, amused, but comply eventually when you’ve had enough of your soju. Instead of looking up at the stars, however, you turn your body to the side so you’re facing Jisung this time. 

“Yah—” 

“You said lay down again, I’m laying down.” You tease in between laughs. “Are you seriously not looking at me in the eye?” 

“No!” He whispers loudly in a dramatic fashion, taking his horse mask and balancing it on his face to hide from you. 

You shrug, flicking his horse mask away easily. “Why are you so embarrassed? Best friends talk about this all the time, it’s normal.” You shrug as you say this next, trying to act nonchalant about it as possible. Internally, you’re still processing where this conversation could go. “I’m just wondering how you came to that conclusion? It sounds weird and gross: Minho and I, I mean.” 

Jisung only looks at you quietly for the next 2 minutes, clearly contemplating. “It’s just...” He starts and you hold your breath, realizing that your faces are really close when he turns his head to your side. “Seriously, it’s silly!” 

You shrug, as nonchalantly as you can seem. “I want to know, it’s n—”

“Ilikeyou.” 

“Hm?” You feel lightheaded, and you definitely feel like you need to pee. Soju works fast that way. 

“I like you...” He says, slower and trailing off this time. He thinks you didn’t notice but you caught the way he glanced briefly down at your lips before going back up to your eyes. “Like really really like you; but we’re always running on different schedules since we entered college and we’ve only ever hung out when my deadlines aren’t heavy enough to make you feel guilty to come over until recently.” 

“...Is that why you’ve been asking to hang out more this semester?” Jisung nods at the simple question. “You wanted to see me that much?” 

“Well, don’t get too cocky now.” He chuckles nervously. Suddenly, he’s overthinking everything, trying to pick apart any hint from the tone of your voice. “Because this would be really really awkward and embarrassing if you keep acting like that then turn me down later.” 

Your heart skips a few beat, you’re sure it’s Jisung now and not the soju kicking in. “Who said...who said anything about me turning you down?” 

Jisung’s thoughts malfunction at this. Suddenly, he’s taking too slow to process anything again. You roll your eyes at this. “Do I have to say it?” 

“...yes?” 

You scrunch up your face in distaste but Jisung doesn’t laugh, making you sigh. “Fuck it, fine.” You take a deep breath, slowly following your words with, “I like you too, Jisung.” 

You look at him expectantly and he returns your gaze with one of disbelief. “R-really?” 

“I just said it, didn’t I?” You flick his forehead. 

“Can I—” 

He leans forward but you stop him with a hand in between the two of you.  “You smell like alcohol.” You whine, pushing him away slightly. 

“But we’re in the dark, under the stars, sorta drunk at a Halloween party; naturally, the next thing that follows is—” 

“Ew, Jisung, gross!” You push him away completely but he only resists, managing to hug you with one arm. 

“You can say that all you want but you already said that you like me too.” Slowly, he gains his confidence back which only just makes you squirm more.  

“Yeah, but you said it first.” You give up from squirming in his grip, realizing that it’s warmer than letting your torso be exposed to the cold for another second. “If anything, I actually have the upper hand here.” 

He shrugs. “So? I actually like saying it. I like you, I like you, I like you...” You open your mouth slightly to comment but he takes this as an opportunity to press a long kiss to your lips. “I like you. There.” 

[supernatural-jackles]

The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 13

Title: The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 13

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,834

Warnings: High Stress Levels, Mentions of the readers shitty Mom, FLUFF, All around cuteness! 

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life.

The Man on the Side of the Road - Masterlist

A/N: Three parts left after this one! I hope y’all enjoy this part! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy Reading!! 

Your head was pounding. Your vision was starting to blur and everything looked the same. You felt like you had been awake for forty eight hours. Your stomach was in knots, your chest was tight. You were beyond exhausted.

 Finals were going to be the absolute death of you.

 You buried your face in your hands, trying your hardest to clear your eyes and make them see one thing instead of eight. You had been at this for hours and nothing was sticking. You needed to pass this final. It was the most important one and you needed a seventy five in order to advance to the class you were taking next semester. You needed to learn the next twenty definitions and the process of seven more things and you literally had no idea how you were going to pull this off.

 “Knock knock,” Dean called out from behind your door. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

 “Come in,” you called out, trying your hardest to sound okay. Your bedroom door opened and Dean walked in. He was wearing his new pyjama pants that Sam had sent him as an early Christmas present. They had presents scattered all over them, and quite frankly they looked cute on him.

 “Hey you,” he greeted you. “Still studying?”

 “More like dying,” you sighed.

 “Nothing’s sticking huh?” he frowned, taking a seat at the end of your bed, giving you a bit of space.

 “Nope,” you shook your head. “I am not going to pass this final at this rate. I’m stressed out, exhausted and all I want to do is sleep for ten years.”

 “Don’t say that, sweetheart. You just need a break,” he suggested. “Why don’t we go make some dinner and pie. I did the groceries so we’ve got some food in the house. I can make you one of my dad’s recipes and after we can make your grandma’s homemade apple pie recipe.”

 “What are we going to make for dinner?” you smiled. “Mac and cheese? Winchester surprise?”

 “I was thinking I could make your favourite chicken with some mac and cheese,” he said with a smirk.

 “You know I can’t resist that,” you squinted at him.

 “I know. That’s why I’m making it. You gotta come out of this room and you’ve gotta eat something that’s not dried cereal or leftover beef jerky from our road trip nearly two months ago.”

 “You’re making me sound like I have a problem,” you giggled.

  “You do. It’s called being overworked,” he chuckled. “Kitchen. Now. Then I need you to watch a short movie with me. Give yourself a break. After that, we can kiss a little and I will help you study for however long tonight,” he declared proudly, looking at you with a sweet smile

 “Okay. We’ll go with your plan, chief,” you said with a weak smile. “You win this time. You had me at kissing you.”

 “Let’s go.”

 The second you got to the kitchen, you felt guilty for not having your books in front of you. The worry of not passing this final was really starting to get to you. You knew Dean was right; that you needed a study break because nothing was going to stick if you kept trying to cram it in. He offered to help you later, and you prayed to god that it would stick in better.

 Dean had the pasta noodles on, and the chicken already in the oven, like he was planning this all along. All that was left was to grate the cheese, and he was already halfway done. You just got to sit there, and watch him do what he did best.

 “When I was little,” you started, glancing up at Dean, “my mom tried to teach me how to bake. Red velvet cookies were what I wanted to make because I saw a picture in a recipe book one day. So she found one that would work and picked out an afternoon to do so. I thought it was going to be fun. You know, spending time with my mom, just the two of us. But I accidentally dropped an egg on the floor, and of course it broke. My mom was furious with me and sent me to my room for destroying her good kitchen floor. All because the egg slipped out of my hand and fell.”

 “That is terrible,” Dean frowned. “Accidents happen all the time.”

 “It was,” you nodded. “She came into my room hours later with a single cookie for me to eat. It was the first time I looked at something and felt like I didn’t deserve it.”

 “Why are you telling me this?” He asked, turning to face you.

 “Because I feel like I don’t deserve you sometimes. Especially on days like today when I’m cranky as hell, and not so fun to be around. You’re here making sure I eat and don’t overwork myself, and I don’t deserve to have someone as great as you in my life.”

 “Yeah you do,” he argued with a smile playing on his lips. “You deserve to have someone looking out for you, Y/N. You do the same for me.”

 “Well, I’m glad I’ve got you,” you smiled.

 “Likewise,” he smiled softly. “When I was growing up, my dad was the one who taught me how to cook. He told me it was a valuable life skill that I would need one day. I was always taught that it wasn’t just a woman’s job to cook for the family. I don’t remember a whole lot of my parents together. I was four when she died. But what I do remember is that they were happy together, and I wanted to have that one day.”

 “Do you still want that?” you asked him.

 “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ve got you. I know my parents loved each other. Even if I remember them arguing, and such. I asked my dad about her from time to time, and he always talked about her with that same look on his face that he had when he saw her. Their love was something real. That’s what I want.”

 “The real thing,” you teased. “Growing up, my dad was my best friend. He had this big office in our house that no one was allowed in but me. He had a chair in there for me, and a computer there for me to do work at one end of his desk. It was our space that my mom couldn’t enter. It was a safe place for me. His Sunday’s were spent playing golf, away from my mom. Those were supposed to be the days I spent with her but she never wanted to. She had her girlfriends over for drinks and I’d be shoved into my bedroom, away from everyone and everything. My parents never spent any time together when I was growing up. My dad travelled during the week for work. I spent Saturdays with him. The more I think about it now, I wonder why they waited until I was twelve to get divorced. They were never happy together.”

 “That’s not fair to you,” he commented.

 “No it’s not. It’s like some sort of arrangement for them, I think,” you agreed. “You want what your parents had, and I want anything but what my parents have. How strange is that?”

 “Have you ever gotten along with your mom?” Dean questioned as he poured the cheese into the noodles. “I know Ketch said to you at the diner that night that your mom loved him more than she did you. Is that true?”

 “Unfortunately yes,” you shrugged. “And for the longest time, that was so hard for me. I mean, my mom loved my boyfriend more than she loved me, and I was her daughter. God, my mom was more excited when she found out I was going out with Ketch than I was. Sure, his family is the richest, and their house is a million times bigger than this. Ketch literally doesn’t need a college degree for crying out loud. It’s not like we ever struggled with money. I mean my dad still makes amazing money and he bought this house for me so I wouldn’t have to stay with my mom while I went to school.”

 “He’s got connections to everything and your mom liked that huh?”

 “It made her look good. It was good for the parties and for all the people at the country clubs. It’s like he’s fucking royalty or something,” you scoffed. “My mom didn’t want me to go to college at first, actually. That’s one of the reasons why I’m so late in graduating. I fought hard to go, and she would only let me go as far as here. My dad fought for me. He knew I wanted my own life. My mom was determined. A girl like me shouldn’t have to work hard for one. The job at the hospital was hard enough work. At one point, she even told me I wasn’t smart enough to get in, which was untrue. It’s just not me. I can’t just sit somewhere and have everything done for me. I’ve never been that way, even if my mom tried to raise me that way. It wasn’t right. I think she thought that Ketch was going to turn me into someone that she’d approve of. A housewife. Someone like her.”

 “I could never see you sitting back and doing nothing,” he chuckled. “You work harder than a lot of people.”

 “Thanks, Dean,” you grinned. “I’m at the point where I’m trying not to care about her. I don’t answer my mom’s texts anymore. Her calls are ignored. I’m done dealing with it all. All it ever does is upset me and I’m tired of putting myself in that position. I gotta move past it all.”

 “Good for you, sweetheart,” he nudged your shoulder. “You graduate in June right?”

 “Maybe! If I pass this final and all my classes next semester, then yes,” you let out a dry laugh.

 “You will,” he reassured you. “You’ll get home tomorrow feeling relieved that it’s over with and that you aced it. I’ll pick up some pizza and beer on the way home, and we’ll celebrate.”

 “And I can pick the movie?” you asked with a wide smile.

 “‘Course you can,” he winked.

 You and Dean ate dinner with a constant flow of conversation. For the first time all day, you felt relaxed, and you knew that was going to do your brain some good. When you were to go back to studying, there was a good chance you were going to retain more than you could before.

 Dean was the first one to finish, and he instantly started on the dishes. You couldn’t help but watch him as he worked. His muscles flexed beneath his shirt every so often. It had been a whole two months since you had slept with him that night, and the morning after. Your feelings had only grown stronger for him. You were taking it slow, enjoying the ride as you went on. Since you already lived together, you kept the sleepovers until Friday and Saturday nights. You didn’t want to rush this and ruin things.  You wanted to still have that friendship between you. It was the most important thing to you.

 You were slowly but surely moving past the whole, not good enough for him thing. There were still days when you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, and that was normal. Most of the time, he was the one who made you feel like you were. He was always making sure you knew that you were doing good, especially in the moments when you felt like you weren’t. There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that you weren’t head over heels for him. This had the potential to become what his parents had. This had the potential to be something amazing.

 You got up from the counter, placing your utensils in the sink and your plate on top of his. You reached for the towel, taking the first mug out of the sink, drying it off. Dean gave you a soft smile before returning back to what he was doing. Your heart began to race in your chest.

 You wondered exactly what was going through his mind. If he was thinking about dinner, or anything else in specific. You wondered if he looked at you and thought the same thing you did when you looked at him. If he thought you were beautiful. If he thought he was lucky to have someone like you in his life. It was the little things.  

 There was a part of you that wanted to tell him that you loved him. You knew it wouldn’t be the worst thing to say, especially with how long he had been in your life. But at the same time, you were always the one who expressed how you felt first and that never worked out for you in the end. It was fear this time around. You didn’t want to push it so far only to have it crash and burn in the end. Dean was all you had at this point. You could wait. You could wait a lifetime for him. He was worth it.

 “Pie time?” he chuckled, pulling the apples out of the fridge. A few weeks ago, you had decided to go apple picking one Sunday. He remembered the day you met him that you mentioned something about your grandma’s recipe needing fresh autumn apples. He thought it would be a good date idea for the two of you and it was. It was one of the memories you think about that makes you smile.

 “Pie time,” you nodded.

 You opened up the cupboard, grabbing your book of recipes. Dean was already pulling out everything you needed from the fridge. You stifled your laugh, knowing just how excited he was for this. Quite frankly you were too. He was like a kid when he was excited and you loved that about him.

 He peeled and cut the apples while you made the pie crust. You worked side by side, bumping into one another a few times while you worked. You tried your hardest to focus on the pie in front of you, but when he stood so close, you couldn’t help but look over.

 “You’re cute,” he muttered, taking a slice of apple, bringing it up to his lips.

 “You’re cute,” you smiled, taking a bit of flour before flicking him. The white dust covering part of his shirt and his cheeks.

 “You’re going to pay for that,” he threatened with a laugh, placing his hand in the flour before rubbing your face. “Much better.”

 “Dean!” you shrieked, letting out a laugh. You smirked, inching closer to him, wiping your cheek on his shirt. He gasped, laughing in the process. “Okay, I actually have to finish this if you want to eat this tonight.”

 “Fine,” he grumbled, flicking you once more before getting back to work.

 You managed to get everything ready within half an hour. Dean added a lot of apples into the pie, and extra cinnamon. You smiled when he helped you with the top of the pie, patting it down with you. Your hands brushing against one anothers every so often. He took it when it was done, and put it in the oven for you. You were really looking forward to tasting it after this.

 His hands made their way to your hips, backing you up to the opposite counter until you hit it. He lifted you up quickly, his body settling between your legs before his lips were on yours. His kisses started off slow and soft; chaste. Moving in a perfect sync with yours as his large hands travelled over the length of your back. You melted against him, allowing yourself to enjoy being with him like this. It was really nice to have a boyfriend that wanted to kiss you the way he did on a constant basis.

 “You want to watch a movie, or a few episodes of Dr Sexy? You’re nearly caught up,” he pointed out as he placed a slice of pie on your plate. “Fuck, this pie is amazing.”

 “Dr Sexy!” you stated. “Gotta see if Dr Sexy and Dr Tara get together. I’m glad you like the pie.”

 “I love how into this show you are,” he let out a laugh.

 “This is your fault,” you side eyed him. “I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you.”

 “Hey, this is on you too. I had no idea you had a medical kink,” he winked.

 “So do you, Winchester,” you teased. “You and I both know if I dressed as a nurse, you’d have a field day.”

 “There is no denying that,” he shrugged. “You’d make such a hot nurse.”

 Dean pulled it up on the tv as you sat down in your designated spot. Right next to Dean. It was one of your favourite parts of movie nights. He’d always end up playing with your hair while the movie ended, and you soaked up every second of the attention he was giving you.

 “Can I ask you something?” Dean asked about halfway through the episode.

 “You just did,” you turned to face him with a wide smile. “What’s up?”

 “What’s the plan after you graduate?”

 “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure yet,” you answered. “I have lots of options, and I think that’s what matters the most.”

 “Which one sounds the best?” he questioned.

 “Teacher’s college,” you breathed out. “The one my mom would hate the most.”

 “For that reason?”

 “That’s a bonus,” you chuckled. “But I think I could make a good career as a teacher.”

 “My mom was a kindergarten teacher,” he revealed, giving you a soft smile. “I think that would be an amazing career path for you. You know I’ll support you in anything you want to do.”

 “Thank you,” you smiled. “I have to apply at the end of January, so I still have time. But it’s definitely something I’ve thought about for a little while now.”

 “You’re good at helping people. I’ve learned so many things from you,” he added. “You’d make an amazing teacher.”

 The episode finished, and you needed to get back to studying. You couldn’t relax any longer. You needed to get these last few things down before you could go to bed. You flopped down on your bed, opening up your notebook. Dean was in not long after you with two mugs of peppermint tea. You knew that there was nowhere he’d rather be than here with you, making sure you got this material down.

 It was around midnight when you packed it all up and crawled into bed. Your eyes were drooping, and words started to blend together. You studied the best you could and you felt a million times better than you did earlier. Dean helped you get down the last eighteen definitions and you had memorized the processes you needed to. You have this final in the bag.

 Dean left your room to go lock up the house, something he did nightly for you. You flicked your side light off before curling into your pillow. A few moments later, you felt your bed shift, the comforter moving just a little, before the bed dipped next to you. Dean was sleeping next to you tonight.

 “Gonna sleep with you tonight,” he whispered, linking his pinky with yours.

 “Good,” you muttered. “Night handsome.”

 “Night sweetheart,” he mumbled, reaching over to place a kiss to your forehead.

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

 You walked through the front door with a smile playing on your lips. Friday were the best days. The start of the weekend. The best damn part of the week. You kicked your shoes off, heading straight for the kitchen with your bag in hand. You couldn’t wait to start the weekend off right with the man you loved. 

 “I’m home!” you called out.

 “Hey beautiful,” a familiar voice filled your ears. Your smile only grew wider. Your eyes glanced over to the counter where he stood. The sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong, toned forearms that drove you crazy.

 “Hey sexy,” you winked at him. “How was your day?”

 “Great. Bobby gave me a raise today,” he revealed. “He said I had been working really hard the last few months and it’s paying off.”

 “Dean! That’s amazing,” you grinned widely, dropping your bag to the ground. You circled the counter quickly, reaching Dean in an instant. You stood on your tiptoes, your lips crashing to his, kissing him hard as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “I’m so proud of you!”

 “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he smiled, licking his bottom lip. “You’re my rock.”

 “And you’re mine,” you whispered, reaching up to kiss him once more.

 “How was your day, sweetheart?” he asked, tugging you in close to him.

 “Good. No tears today. No parents to call. And it’s Friday,” you chuckled. “Today’s a good day.”

 “How’s our baby girl?” he questioned. His right hand slipped from the small of your back to your growing bump.

 “Why don’t you ask her?”

 Dean kneeled down to your stomach, pressing his lips to the bump. His hand held either side of your stomach. It had to be the best thing you had seen and he did it over and over again. She already had her daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger. She was going to be a daddy’s girl for sure. This was exactly what you wanted.

 “Hey baby girl,” he said softly. “You being good for your mom in there? Not kicking her insides too much?”

 “Not today,” you whispered.

 “I love you, peanut,” he muttered, pressing another kiss to your stomach. “And I love you, sweetheart.”

 “Not as much as we love you,” you smiled.

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

 You shot right up, your eyes opening widely. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You swallowed hard, realizing that it was just a dream and it was the middle of the night. Dean was still fast asleep, facing your direction.

 For a moment, it actually felt real. It actually felt like you and Dean were going to end up together, and you were having a baby together. It actually looked like life was looking good for the two of you. God, the way he kissed your stomach. Ugh, and the way he kissed you. It was everything you wanted and more. It was everything you wanted with the person you loved.

 “You okay?” Dean breathed out, shifting a little. He never even opened his eyes.

 “Yeah,” you whispered.

 “Bad dream?” He asked you, popping one eye open.

 “No. Good dream. Best dream I’ve had in awhile. I’m just sad it came to an end,” you admitted.

 “Dr Sexy?”

 “Something better,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

 “What if you forget?” He cocked his eyebrow with his one eye still open.

 “Trust me. I will never forget this dream.”

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

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me sharing stories like this! 

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

Il fait un pas à l'extérieur

Existence in Real Time - Chapter 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

A/N: The title of this chapter is in french because this is my first semester without taking french and I miss it and it sounds pretty, it means ‘he takes a step outside’

Summary: Peter is allowed out into the world for the first time for a shopping trip with (y/n)

Series Masterlist

Regular Masterlist

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After two weeks out of the lab Peter truly felt like he was starting to understand how things in the outside world worked. He’d been trying his best to get an understanding of pop culture and how you were supposed to talk to others casually, and there had been some hiccups, but (y/n) kept telling him he was doing great. Peter had quickly decided his initial feelings about (y/n) had been spot on, she was incredibly kind and patient and seemed to have no qualms about spending her free time with him. In fact she seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. She’d come home from school everyday with a list of new things to show him, or a backpack full of different snacks for him to try, and during his first weekend in the penthouse she’d shown him how to order take out so he could try new things while she wasn’t there. Tony was nice too, fun even, but he was usually more interested in Peter’s powers and asking about the lab. He didn’t mind it really, but the rest of the world was much more exciting, and new, and it was a lot more fun than reminiscing about the lab.

For his second weekend at the penthouse (y/n) had promised they’d be doing the thing he’d been looking forward to the most: exploring the city. Tony had given them very strict instructions to let him know exactly where they’d be, and call him if they saw anything even a tiny bit suspicious, but it was still a level of leniency and trust far beyond anything Peter had ever experienced. He had been buzzing all week at the thought, writing up an extensive list of things he wanted to do while they were out. He’d excitedly presented it to (y/n) at 8 a.m sharp on Saturday morning, to which she’d told him to get out of her room and let her sleep in or else, and he’d in turn returned to the living room to try and wait patiently for her to get up. Lucky for him she’d dragged herself into the bathroom at 10 and declared herself ready by 10:30.

“Alright, let’s see that list,” she yawned as they stepped into the elevator.

“Here,” he passed it to her, smiling like it was Christmas morning, “I’m sorry I woke you up so early.”

“It’s okay, just not a morning person,” her eyes scanned over the list with a small hum, “You should knock before you come into people’s rooms though, in case they’re changing or something.”

“Sorry, I won’t do it again,” he promised, “So, uh, do you think we can do all of it?”

“We’ll try, but we can go back out tomorrow if we don’t. What did you want to do first?”

“Well you keep talking about shopping so I thought we could do that first, and then maybe we could eat lunch in central park?”

“Okie dokie, do you wanna get clothes or like try and decorate your room?”

“Can we go to a store with both?”

“Sure, Nordstroms isn’t far and they have everything,” she waved to a man in the lobby as they exited the elevator, “That’s Happy, he’s our driver.”

“His name is Happy?” Peter raised a brow.

She nodded, “Yep.”

“That’s a weird name.”

She rolled her eyes at him before addressing the man, “Hey Happy, this is Peter, dad told him about you right?”

Happy nodded, “Yep, nice to meet you kid.”

“You too. So you drive cars?”

Peter’s introductions could still use a little work.

Happy raised a brow at (y/n), who just pursed her lips, “Yeah, I drive cars.”

“Cool,” Peter glanced to (y/n), not really sure what he should say next.

She smiled and collapsed her hands in front of her, “Happy can you take us to Nordstrom's first?”

He nodded, “Yeah, hop in, I’ll drive the car.”

Peter’s eyes had been glued to the window the entire dive, watching everything they passed in absolute awe. Each block had been packed with more people than he’d met in his entire life, and when they arrived at the store he nearly had a heart attack at the amount of people piling in and out of the doors. Happy had dropped them off right in front of the doors, telling (y/n) to call him when they were ready to leave. She’d grabbed Peter by the arm, weaving them through the crowd with an amount of grace he was certain he would never be able to match.

“Here,” she finally shoved them both onto the escalator, giving Peter a much needed moment to breathe, “The mens and home sections are both upstairs, which do you wanna hit first?”

“Uh, mens.” Truthfully, Peter was getting a little overwhelmed by the crowd, “Is it gonna be this busy up there?”

“I don’t think so. It’s usually not as busy upstairs,” she got on her tiptoes to try and peak at the upper floor, “Why?”

“Nothing, just wondering,” he forced a smile.

She frowned, “You don’t like crowds?”

Peter flushed, “I don’t know, I’ve just never been around this many people.”

“If it’s too much we can go,” she set a hand on his upper arm, squeezing lightly, “I’m sorry Peter, I should have thought about that. We can try going places that are calmer first.”

He shook his head, “I wanna be here, it’s just a little overwhelming. I just need to get used to it.”

She bit her cheek and nodded, “Okay, but if you change your mind just let me know, some people just don’t like crowds, that’s okay.”

“I will, but I’m okay for now,” he followed her off the escalator, letting his eyes wander for a minute, “You’re right, it’s not as bad up here.”

“Yeah, it’s always packed by the entrance,” she walked him to the left half of the floor, where about a million different racks of mens clothes were laid out, “So we just kind of wander around and if you see something you like we can grab it and you can try it on,” she slipped her hand into his, squeezing it firmly, “And if you get overwhelmed you can hold my hand if you want,” she blushed a little when she dropped his hand, “When I got nervous when I was little I used to squeeze my dads hand as hard as I could while we walked around, it always helped me feel better.”

He fought his cheeks when they tried to flush again, “Thanks, that, um, it does help.”

She smiled as she set her hand atop a rack of sweaters, “Just don’t squeeze my hand as hard as you can, you’ll definitely break it.”

“No promises,” he smiled back, “You like those?”

She nodded, “Yeah, they’re soft, do you like them?”

He studied them for a minute, grabbing the sleeve of one before nodding, “Yeah, I like the blue one.”

She smiled ear to ear, taking one from the rack and holding it to his chest, “Definitely a medium,” she concluded, “Alright, one down, anything else catching your eye?”

He shrugged, “Not yet, but that means it's just time to wander around right?”

She nodded, “You lead the way.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Peter had picked out five t-shirts, three sweaters, and four pairs of pants, letting (y/n) add things as they went and give her best guess for his sizes before shoving him into a fitting room.

“You’re really good at guessing sizes,” Peter looked down at himself as he exited the fitting room. He’d opted for one of the sweaters and a pair of jeans, it seemed simple enough.

“Yeah, I go shopping a lot,” she looked over him carefully, “Do you like it?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, I guess, it’s comfortable.”

“Well you should like your clothes, you should feel good wearing them,” she hummed, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him around, “I’ve got an idea for this one, so why don’t you change again and I’ll be right back okay?”

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m just gonna grab something, I’ll be back before you even finish getting dressed,” she assured.

“Okay.” Truthfully he was more worried about her being alone than he was himself. “Just come right back if there’s anything weird.”

She rolled her eyes, “I think you’re spending too much time with my dad. I think I’ll be okay to walk five feet from the fitting room.”

He nodded, watching her leave before returning to the dressing room. Next he settled on a t-shirt he’d chosen, it had a scene from the first movies they’d watched together, Star Wars, and a pair of dark grey sweatpants that she’d told him were joggers every time he said sweatpants. She’d picked them out for him, insisting they’d ‘change his life’ with how comfortable they were. He didn’t really get it still, they were basically the same pants he always wore.

“Hey I think I-” he stopped himself mid sentence when he saw (y/n) was still missing. He was worried instantly, his mind wandering to the worst case scenario as he exited the fitting room, but he quickly relaxed when he spotted her just outside the door, talking to a boy their age.

“Oh hey sorry,” she apologized with a smile, “I got caught up for a second. Peter this is Flash, I go to school with him. Flash, this is Peter.”

“Oh, uh, hi,” Peter gave a tight lipped smile as he looked the boy over, “Nice to meet you.”

 Flash nodded, “You too, so he’s like your cousin or something?”

“No, he, um,” (y/n) looked over at Peter, trying to quickly think of something, “He’s working with my dad, yeah, he’s an intern.”

Peter nodded in agreement, “Yep, I’m Tony’s intern.”

“Oh, cool,” Flash’s eyes hadn’t left (y/n) for more than a second, and he seemed to blush when he addressed her, “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it, I’ll see you Monday?”

She nodded, smiling obliviously back at him, “Yeah, you too,” she began retreating to the fitting room, passing Peter a button up shirt, “You should put that on under the sweater, it’ll look nice.”

“He was into you,” Peter hummed as he took the shirt.

“What?”

“He was into you, you know, like romantically. “

She hummed, “I don’t think so.”

“He totally is. Are you into him or something.”

She shook her head quickly, “No, Flash definitely isn’t my type, and he’s kind of an ass.”

“Why were you talking to him then?”

“He’s not an ass to me, just to some of my friends and stuff. Plus if I’m an ass to him it just gives him reasons to justify being an ass to everyone else you know?”

“No, if he was being an ass to my friends,” he paused for a minute, “Well, just you I guess, er, maybe your dad too, anyway, point is, I’d punch him. And maybe he’s not an ass to you specifically because he’s into you.”

“Maybe but I think if he was trying to get with me or something he’d want to get in good with my friends too. And you can’t just punch people, you could give him permanent brain damage or something,” she took a seat in the large chair in the waiting area, “Let’s get back to our fashion show.”

“He would deserve it,” he commented before glancing at the mirror again, “I like this.” 

“Me too. Now go put the sweater back on, and try the black jeans.”

“Yes mam,” he retreated behind the curtain once again, “So do you know a lot of people at school.”

“Kind of, I mean I know most of the people in my grade, but I’m only close with a couple people.”

“Do you like school?”

“Yeah, for the most part.”

He tossed the curtain open and stepped out once again, “You were right, this looks good.”

“Love it,” she nodded in agreement, “You know if you wanted to you could probably enroll with me, I mean not right now or anything, but we could talk to my dad about it.”

He liked the idea, even if the thought was a little nerve wracking, “Do you think he’d go for that?”

“Definitely! He’d have to get you legal documents and make sure you were ready and everything, but I’m sure he’d be down. I think you’d like it too, you’d get to be around a lot of other people our age,” she seemed excited at the prospect, which dissolved any nerves he’d been having, “I don’t think the actual work or anything would be a problem for you either, so just if you wanted too…”

He smiled at her, “I do, I think I’d like that.”

Her big, enthusiastic smile assured him it was the right choice, “Awesome, we can talk to him when we get home then.”

“Yeah, he’ll have to say yes after he sees my new drip.”

She burst into laughter, “Did you just say drip?”

He nodded, “And I know for a fact I used it correctly.”

“Um, okay,” she raised her hands in surrender, “Apparently Peter uses slang now.”

“That’s right,” he winked, “Give me like a week and I’ll have my very own Twitter too.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Peter stopped very suddenly on their way to the check out, suddenly entranced by a table full of Legos, “What are these?”

“Legos, they’re little building blocks for kids,” (y/n) explained, her attention staying on the throw blanket she held to her chest.

“Let’s get some.”

She furrowed her brow and looked over at him, “You want Legos?”

He nodded, “This one the Millennium Falcon, it’s cool, we could build it together.”

“Cool is a bit of a strong word,” she mumbled as she picked up the box, examining it carefully, “I don’t know Peter, this one says nine and up, I don’t want you to choke on any of the pieces.”

He rolled his eyes, “Haha, you’re so cute,” he took the box from her with a smile, “We’re gonna get it, and we’re gonna have tons of fun building it together, and then you’re gonna be upset that we only got one box.”

She stuck her tongue out before continuing on her way, “Whatever you say spider-dork.”

“That’s Spiderman to you,” he bit back, “Show a little respect.”

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They’d both been surprised to find Tony in the car when Happy came to pick them up, luckily he’d only come to meet them for lunch so Peter’s day on the town could continue. Peter had sat back while Tony and (y/n) argued over where to eat, finally settling on a sushi place right across from central park. He really couldn’t fathom holding such a serious debate over something as small as food.

“So, how was shopping Peter?” Tony questioned as they sat down.

“Uh, it was fun,” he chewed the inside of his cheek, “It’s really cool seeing all this stuff but I’m excited to see all the stuff outside.”

“I would be too,” he sat back in his chair, looking over his menu lazily, “By the way, did I see Legos in one of those bags?”

“Peter wanted Legos,” (y/n) explained.

Tony raised a brow at him, “You wanted Legos?”

Peter nodded, “Yeah, it was the Millennium Falcon, it’s cool.”

“Cool is a strong word,” Tony hummed, “So is that what you two are planning to do for the rest of the day.”

(y/n) shook her head, “No, Peter’s got a whole list, we’re gonna go walk around the park after this.”

“Let me see the list.” (y/n) passed it to him, letting him look over it quietly for a second before shaking his head. “No, this is no good, this is all tourist crap. Kid what were you thinking?”

“That I’m a tourist,” Peter deadpanned.

“Point taken,” Tony nodded, “Well you do this this weekend and next weekend I’ll make you a much better list than this.”

“Yeah and where are you gonna send us? A tour of New York’s greatest retirement homes?” (y/n) rolled her eyes, “If anyone’s making the next list it’s me.”

“Really? And what’s going on your list hmm?” Tony questioned.

“Midtown.”

“The high school?”

She nodded, “Yeah, Peter and I talked about him maybe going to school eventually so I figure he should check it out first.”

“You wanna go to school?” Tony asked.

Peter blushed before nodding, “I’d like to try, I think it’d be good for me.”

“I think so too, but you have to be sure you’re ready before I get any of that started.”

“I’m sure I’ll be ready soon.”

“I’d be with him too,” (y/n) added, “So if anything happened I’m sure we’d be okay.”

Tony nodded, “Yeah, well I’ll see what I can do about that, in the meantime I think it’d be good for him to get a little more practice being out in public.”

(y/n) smiled ear to ear, squeezing his arm excitedly, “You got it daddio, Peter’s gonna be totally socially adept in no time.”

next chapter

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[amanda-glassen]

The Love of Her Life

Some Serena and baby Liv fluff for day 1 of @dailysvu Olivia Benson Week: The moment you fell in love with Olivia Benson. Prequel to The Wonder Years.

February 2009

From the moment she found out she was pregnant, Serena began reading pregnancy websites and parenting magazines, but the most sound parenting advice came from her own mother who told her that no book, magazine, or website could ever fully prepare her for what it’d be like when she actually held her baby for the first time. After Olivia had been dried off, she was placed tummy-down on Serena’s chest so the skin-to-skin contact could help Serena bond with Olivia during her first moments on this earth. She was wearing a little pink knit hat, but underneath it Serena could see Olivia’s soft dark hair. She’s a brunette like me. Feeling her baby against her skin as she held her for the first time was even more overwhelming than she thought it would be and Serena couldn’t help crying.

“You did good, baby,” her mom said as she kissed Serena’s temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Serena responded. “Mom, how is it possible to love someone so much? I thought I couldn’t love her more than I already did when she was in my womb, but that love doesn’t even compare to what I feel for her right now.”

The Bensons had a beach house in Malibu along Pacific Coast Highway and the sound of the waves at night had always been therapeutic for Serena. When her thoughts and the memories got to be too much for her after she had been raped, she’d sit outside on her balcony and listen to the waves while writing in her pregnancy journal. She filled page after page about what she was feeling and what her hopes were for Olivia. On more than one occasion, she wrote about how－if she closed her eyes really tight and just listened to her surroundings－she could be twelve-years-old again and riding boogie boards with her brother and sister or even six-years-old and making sandcastles with them. Some of her best memories were at the beach, but the one she knew she’d never be able to top was that first night she brought Olivia home.

Serena stood on the balcony in her Columbia University hoodie and a pair of pajama pants. Although February in Malibu was nowhere near as cold as February in New York, she made sure to dress Olivia in her warmest pajamas and wrap her in a blanket. 

“Sorry this isn’t skin-to-skin contact, but Mommy can’t be topless on the balcony,” she said as she held Olivia to her chest. “How about to make up for it, I let you drool all you want on my Columbia hoodie? We’ll be going back there in August. Columbia is Mommy’s school and she has to finish up her senior year.” Why am I talking about myself in the third person? I can’t believe I’ve become one of those moms already. “Everyone thinks it's going to be hard for me to be a full time student at an Ivy League school and be a mom living on my own, but I think we'll be okay. Your grandma is going to stay there from time to time and we have a great support system. It’s a lot colder in New York but it’s beautiful in autumn when the leaves change colors. In a couple of years, I’m going to take you trick-or-treating. I can’t wait. There’s a lot of things I can’t wait to do with you, but at the same time I want you to stay this small and cuddly.”

“The semester before I got pregnant with you, I was in a Shakespearean seminar and I got your name from Twelfth Night. My professor was really strict though. He started teaching in the early ‘80s and won’t even let us bring our laptops to class. We’re only allowed handwritten notes. After a three hour class, my right hand was so numb and I thought it was going to fall off. I want to be an English lit professor someday, but I promise I won’t be like him. I’ll actually acknowledge that it’s the 21st century. I’m sorry for rambling. I know it’s important to talk, read, and sing to your baby and trust me when I say you don’t want me singing so you’re stuck with me talking and reading to you. I have so many stories to tell you. There’s this cookie place that your aunt Lexie and uncle Kyle and I love. When you can start eating solids, you and I will share a cookie there. They’re open until 3 a.m. Can you believe it? I bet 3 a.m. is nothing for you, though. You’re a little party animal. You like to sleep all day and stay up all night, have a drink at midnight and 2 a.m.”

“Can you hear the waves?” Serena asked her daughter. “The sound is relaxing, isn’t it? My doctor told me that the most soothing sound for a baby when he or she is in the womb is their mother’s heartbeat. Now that you’re not in the womb anymore, you’re going to hear all types of sounds, some more soothing than others. I hope the ocean is one of them. Can you believe all the way across this big body of water, there’s other countries and people just like us? Maybe there’s a mommy and a baby listening to the waves on the baby’s first day at home just like we are.”

Although Olivia couldn’t understand a word she was saying, she felt as if she still had to get this next bit of information off of her chest. “I’m new to this, Olivia. Just nine months ago, I was a sorority girl who went to parties every Friday and Saturday night and then something really bad happened to me and my life took a turn I didn’t expect it to. Being a mom wasn’t what I had planned, but here you are and I never imagined loving someone so much. I’m probably going to get things wrong four out of five times, but I’m still learning and I promise you I’ll get better. I’m going to love you every single moment of every single day, Olivia, and nothing you do will ever make me stop loving you.”

Serena heard the sound of her sliding glass door opening. “Sweetheart, come inside,” her mom told her. “It’s getting cold out there for my grandbaby. Don’t you think you should put her in her crib now?”

“I was hoping I could sleep with her,” Serena responded as she gently rocked Olivia. “I’m not ready to let go.”

“My big baby,” Mrs. Benson shook her head. “I love how excited you are to spend time with Olivia, but it’s not safe for a newborn to sleep in a bed. She needs to be in her crib. Trust me, you won’t go long without holding her. Newborns don’t sleep through the night. She’ll wake up in around two hours and want you to feed her. Do you remember everything the lactation consultant told you? Or do you need me to help you? If you need me, just call, okay?”

It was supposed to be one of the most natural things a mother can do, but Serena still worried about Olivia not drinking enough of her milk, or too much, or not latching on properly. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll call you if I need help with anything.”

“You’re not ready to let go of her, are you?”

“I’ll never be ready to let go of her.”

“Come in,” Mrs. Benson insisted. “I promised I’d never tell another mom how to raise her child, but you’re my baby and she’s my grandbaby, so I’ll let you hold her longer but only if you come inside.”

There were three generations of Benson women on Serena’s bed, Serena and her mom sitting up, leaning against the headboard, and baby Olivia resting her head on her mommy’s chest. “Mom, what do you think she’ll be like when she gets older?”

Mrs. Benson put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s see. She’s being raised by you so she’ll be stubborn for sure, but she’ll also be kind, intelligent, and brave just like you.”

Ten minutes of holding Olivia turned into half an hour and eventually an hour until Mrs. Benson broke down and decided to make a baby nest so Serena could safely cuddle her daughter in bed. Serena didn't get more than a couple of hours of sleep that night, partly because Olivia kept waking her up, but mostly because she just wanted to admire her. There were so many mixed emotions for Serena. Her baby may have been conceived in an act of violence, but Olivia was so innocent. “You have nothing to do with him,” she said as she placed delicate kisses on her baby’s forehead. “I know I have a long road ahead of me and my healing can’t be dependent on you. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but just know that you’ve already helped me in so many ways and I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you.”