#the chance that I failed my last exam is way higher than I would have liked

[neon-angels-system]

without exams or labs to study for I feel like a horse in a hospital. like what should I be doing. what could I be doing. so many possibilities.

[thesalvationofdoriangray]

Looking back in life, I realized that it has never been easy. It seems that everything has been challenging since the day I was born. From my mother not taking care of me until I was 3, her psychosis from mental illness, my father's emotional rage and absence to being shamed from church, failed romances, and suffering from drug addiction and bondage. Everyone has a story of shame. It was always hard to get past mine. I'm still learning

I think this epiphany dawned on me today as I was thinking about two things.

1. I work at the ROL food bank and I had a relapse on alcohol and Xanax. I was honest to my boss and mustered up the courage to go back to work. I was thankful to him for giving me another chance. I noticed some people treat me different. I use to have great conversations with some of the aunties. We use to say hi. I noticed when I say hi to some of them now, they're expressionless. That's when I realized they stopped greeting me and often ignore me. I always idealize that people at church would treat me the way that Jesus does. With grace, acceptance, and forgiveness but that's just not how humans are. They are judgmental. I guess I can't blame them. I have to pay for the consequences of my sin. I guess I lost credibility with them. One auntie even warned my gf to stay away from me. She happens to be a pastor and my boss. I guess she's just trying to protect my gf like a daughter. One time I was talking to this girl about her ministry. I wanted to help out. I got her number. Then I saw one of the higher ups pull her aside and say something in her ear When I asked her about her ministry, she never responded back to my text. I never hurt anyone else, only myself. This is a lesson about accepting myself and putting my faith in God rather than people. If I don't do so I won't be able to experience God's forgiveness and everyone's opinion of me will become my idol. What they think is their problem and ultimately does not matter. I know Jesus loves me and understands my heart. This job is just a stepping stone for something greater. Lord, please give me the strength to persevere and build character. Walk me through this father.

2. I'm taking Microbiology. I checked the reviews of each professor and went with the easier one or so I thought. From COVID came the inception of hybrid classes. Half online, half in person. These lectures are 1 to 2 hrs long and are jam-packed with tons of info. It takes me around 4 hours or more to finish my notes. There are literally exams, quizzes, practicals and exams every other week to every week. Last exam I studied my ass off. I tried to remember everything and couldn't. When I took the exam which is 55 questions, 5 being bonus, I finished in 25 min when we had an hour. When I got my grade, I was shocked to see I got 102/100. A++! When I was child, I was asking for help from my father in math. All he did was berate me. My mother being unstable and stressed from work came into the room and open hand slapped my face and head until I was dizzy and curled into a ball. I think from there even though I didn't know it, I internalized that I was bad at school. I always cheated, never did HW, skipped classes, and never studied. I went back to school when I was 32. Throughout this time I realized that I have great potential but I have to work hard. I exceeded my expectations on this last exam. May the Lord remind me that I can do it if I give it my all. Be with me father and help me persevere until the end.

Heavenly Father,

I realized that most things in my life have been difficult but God puts me in these situations for me to grow. He has great plans for me. When I trust in God, I experience peace. I don't want to worry too much about my mistakes. So as long as I have faith in God, I will go to where I belong and become whom God destined me to be.

There has never been a time where you didn't love me. Your love is perfect. You always wait patiently for me to come back to you. The heaven rejoices when the long lost prodigal son returns home. When you see me, you smile.

Lord God, I praise your holy and infinite name. You are the mightiest of mighty but yet the gentlest of gentle. You always have faith in me. So many challenges in life. All yet to mold me and help me grow. All to draw me closer to you and become who I am destined to be. You refine me in the fires of my tribulations to make my heart pure gold. You allow this pressure to turn my faith into a diamond and shine bright for this world to see. If the world is my oyster, then you are my iridescent pearl which I treasure so dearly.

Please be with me through this journey called life my dear beloved savior. Place your divine hand on my broken heart and piece it back together with your love.

In the precious name of Christ, Amen.

[wonderful-writes]

Presume

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tom thinks you’re too pretty to be any good at academics. You can imagine his shock when he’s proven wrong.

Word Count: 2k (2,097)

Author’s Note: The idea for this fic was given to me by @bellaswansrealgf. It was such a fun topic to write, so thank you so much bae for coming up with the idea! I’ll definitely be using more of your suggestions in the future.

Tom Riddle found himself becoming increasingly irritated. How could Professor Slughorn possibly expect him to work with a partner? What kind of fool did Slughorn think he was? Tom was perfectly capable of completing his project himself, and it was rather insulting for his professor to assign someone to help him. And not just anyone. Slughorn had assigned you.

You, the pretty girl, were in no capacity an ideal partner. You were friendly and charming and surely too bubble-headed to know a thing about potions. You were probably irritating and selfish and vain, too. Tom would have rather been partnered up with the clown from Gryffindor than with you.

“Tom, right?” you asked as you took a seat next to him. You were dressed in neat robes and had nicely styled hair. You probably spent all morning on it.

“Yes,” he replied curtly without so much as a glance your way. He began flipping his textbook to the desired page and scanning it with his eyes.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced.

Tom ignored you as he continued to read the page.

“So, what kind of potion do you think we should make?” you asked him, opening your own book.

Once again, Tom didn’t bother to look up or respond.

“Hello?” you tried again.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, I know potions is probably not your area of expertise, so it’s best if you just sit there and let me work.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, surprised at how this stranger could claim to already know you without having ever spoken to you. “How would you know if I’m not good at potions?”

Tom scoffed. “If you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly look like you’d be much of an academic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, starting to get offended.

“Well, I’m the best in the class,” Tom said like it was the most natural thing to come out of his mouth. “Professor Slughorn probably sent you here so that I could babysit you. You can’t be any good if you need me as a mentor.”

“I don’t need you as a mentor,” you told him. “Professor Slughorn wanted us to work together for this assignment.”

“Like I said,” he replied, turning back to his book, “maybe you should let me handle the assignment.”

You were beyond aggravated. How could someone who barely knows you make such assumptions about you? You were more than adept in potions, and it was unfair of him to shut you down without letting you prove your skills.

“You realize this assignment is worth 25% of our grade, don’t you?” you asked him as you crossed your arms.

 “Precisely,” he answered. “Which is why I won’t let you mess it up.”

You had never met a more arrogant person.

“If you’re going to be this way,” you declared, “I’ll just ask Slughorn if I can work alone. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience the great Tom Riddle.”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief as you packed your belongings and walked away. You were attractive, sure, but you were also annoying. He was glad to be rid of anyone who didn’t let him take charge.

Slughorn allowed the two of you to work separately. To Tom’s approval, you set up your station far away from his. He almost pitied you. It couldn’t be easy for someone like you to complete an entire project by yourself. People like you only cared about their appearances or what the latest gossip was. There was no way you could make any of the complicated potions on the list of options for the assignment without help.

~

By the end of the week, Slughorn had finished grading the students’ potions and their accompanying essays. Tom, ever so confident in his abilities, was shocked when he didn’t receive a perfect score.

“What did I do wrong, Professor?” he asked after class had been dismissed. “I could have sworn I didn’t miss anything.”

“You forgot to crush the bay leaves before you put them in,” Slughorn explained. “But not to worry, my boy. You chose a highly complex concoction. It is almost guaranteed that any student who attempts to recreate it will forget at the very least one step.”

“Did anyone else choose that potion?” Tom wondered.

Slughorn nodded with a twinkle in his eye.

“And did anyone get it right?” Tom asked. He was doubtful that anyone in the class could have succeeded at something he failed to perfect, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“That’s for me to know, my boy,” the teacher answered. Seeing the frustrated look on Tom’s face, he chuckled and added, “Just know that you shouldn’t judge your partners so prematurely.”

Tom spent the majority of the night ruminating on Slughorn’s words. Could it be that you were the student who had gotten the perfect score on the potion he had attempted? He refused to believe it. Slughorn must have been referring to another student, one that Tom was paired with in the past. You couldn’t possibly be the partner in question.

~

It had been weeks since Tom came in second for the first time in his life. He convinced himself that it couldn’t have been you who bested him. Of course, he speculated who the true victor could be, but he couldn’t put his finger on who in the class could be worthy of such high marks.

Eventually, the time came for the annual examination preparation. Professor Slughorn’s students were assigned a series of practice exams to help them prepare for the actual ones. Each practice test focused on a different area within potions, and it was the students’ job to be well-versed in all of them.

At the beginning of every week, a new practice exam was passed out, and the grades for the previous week’s exam was posted on a roster at the front of the class.

Tom never bothered with making a show of checking his grades, knowing fully well that he would always be at the head of the class. But with the newfound knowledge of a possible competitor, he couldn’t quell his curiosity.

Making his way to the front of the room with the usual throng of Slytherin boys, he displayed no sign of concern. Why should the best in the year have to worry about some halfwit who ran into a bit of luck one time?

His air of indifference was quickly squashed, however, when he approached the posted practice exam scores and saw that his was the second highest. Second? That couldn’t be right. Tom Riddle never came in second. Who was first? Who could feasibly best Tom Riddle at a potions examination? The most brilliant student in all of Hogwarts, and in his best subject too?

He was horrified beyond comparison when he saw none other than your name at the pinnacle of the score sheet.

You.

Impossible. There was no chance that the bubbly girl with the face of an angel, er, a moron, could ever have received such excellent marks.

He’d seen you around, and you were most definitely not the kind of girl who cared about your performance in school. You were always smiling with your friends or tucking your hair behind your ear or dazzling a crowd with an extraordinary story. When you weren’t smoothing down your clothes or checking your made-up face, you were befriending the professors, something only stupid people needed to do.

So how could you have gotten a higher score than him? There must have been a mistake. He would have to ask Slughorn about it after class.

As he walked back to his seat, he glanced at where you were positioned, a table not too far from his own. You had already started on your assignment for the day, making quick work of the cutting and crushing of ingredients. Sure enough, you were dripping with the grace and beauty of someone who most likely didn’t know the difference between reed and foxtail.

How could one possibly be proficient in any academic subject when they looked like that? You probably spent more time shining your shoes than studying for exams. Then how did you beat him, and twice?

He watched you work for the remainder of the period. To his surprise, you were doing everything correctly. You never added a drop too much or a sprig too little. You stirred with precision and knew what color to look for in the brew. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Were you truly more intelligent than he had originally presumed?

Still unconvinced, he approached Professor Slughorn after dismissal to question the scores from the most recent exam.

Slughorn only sent him a mysterious look before answering, “Everything is as it should.”

-

After the third week of coming in second place, Tom decided that it was enough. It was time he put his troubles to rest and find out for himself what sort of witchcraft was in play.

“Are you cheating?” he abruptly asked you the moment you took your seat. Professor Slughorn was not yet in class, giving the students ample time to converse before lessons began.

Startled, you stared back at him. “What?”

“You must be receiving help on your practice exams or at the very least borrowing notes from someone,” he stated matter-of-factly. “So tell me. Who is it?”

You had had enough of this arrogant git’s behavior. “What makes you think I need help? Is it so hard to believe that you are not the only person in this room who can do well in school?”

“Well I- you see, you’re not exactly the sort to put much thought to academics,” he defended.

“And what sort is that?” you questioned.

“You know, the vain, pretty lot,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d imagine you spend more time on your appearance than on your academics.”

You gaped at the boy before you. “You think I’m pretty? And before you go on, my appearance has nothing to do with my drive to excel in scholarly affairs. I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of receiving just as good of marks as you are, despite what you think.”

“Then work with me on today’s partner project,” he challenged.

“Excuse me?” The last thing you were expecting was for the high-and-mighty Tom Riddle to want anything to do with you after his blatant rudeness.

“If you’re truly as good as you say—”

“You mean as good as the scores prove,” you cut in.

Tom rolled his eyes. “If you’re really that good, show me. Demonstrate your skills on today’s potion, and I’ll believe you.”

So the two of you spent the class working together on the assigned potion. Tom made sure to stand back so that you could have the freedom to do things on your own, silently hoping that you would make a mistake. But you didn’t.

Your potion was perfect. There was not an herb out of place or a drop not potent enough. Everything was as it should.

You had clearly proven to Tom that you were a skilled student, worthy of his second glance. You only hoped that the self-righteous twat would realize not to judge people before knowing them.

“While I hate to admit my own shortcomings, you were right,” Tom conceded.

You smiled at his admittance. “Thanks, Tom. I’m glad you learned something from this experience.”

He had expected to feel more disdain at the fact that he had finally found his match. He was waiting for annoyance, jealousy, some spark of rage at being second-best. But all he felt was a strange sensation.

You were quite honestly brilliant, and he couldn’t remember a time when he genuinely thought that about a fellow student. You were quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and unafraid to back down from a challenge. You stood up to him despite barely knowing anything about him, other than that he was a royal pain to you. And, not to mention, you were quite a sight to behold.

It was no secret that Tom kept to himself more often than not. Sure, he had a group of peers who respected him — whether out of fear or genuine liking is up for debate — but he never got to know anyone on a personal level. He never let anyone get too close or see him for someone other than the shining pupil with big plans. But, for once, he wanted someone to share his genius with.

He intended to make you that person.

—

Part 2

[seriouslysnape]

Loving Every Inch

Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language. Body image issues. Very brief sexual content.

Word Count: 1,461

“What about me had you so preoccupied?”

The rain fell steadily from the gray skies outside. The pattering of the rain on the roof was a monotonous drum in your ears as you subconsciously listened to it. Thousands of raindrops stuck to the windows and raced one another down to the bottom of the sill, leaving a wet trail behind them as they slid down the glass. Every few minutes or so, a roll of thunder would boom off in the distance causing Neville to flinch in your hold. He had straggled his way to your dorm, knocking on the door quietly as always, no matter how many times you told him that he didn’t have to knock.

He entered after you gave him permission, not saying a word until he had crashed on your bed. He found himself settled between your legs with his head resting on your chest. He mumbled a sweet, but brief “hello” before growing quiet. He had a rough week between a heavy workload and several exams that he had studied countless hours for. Over the course of the last five days, he had been by your side whenever he had a free chance (which still wasn’t very often). He had told you all about his shitty week and how it was seemingly endless. But alas, Friday was finally here and his hellish week was over.

You could feel the strain in his shoulders when you rubbed them, and the tension all over the rest of his body. Your fingers combed through his soft, dark hair that was strewn about his head. Neville usually put a decent amount of effort into making his hair look nice, but the way it was now showed otherwise. He had become a little more careless as the week had gone on, and his hair was the last of his worries. On top of that, he had been growing it out to “try a new look”, and it had developed a bit of a curl to it as it became lengthier. 

He babbled out a rather muffled sentence at the feeling of your nails scratching lightly at his head. You cocked your head to the side as you peered down at your boyfriend, wondering what in the world he had just said.

“Say again, Nev?” You requested.

“I said I’ll fall asleep if you keep that up.” He repeated, referring to the way you were massaging at his head.

You let out an airy laugh, ceasing the movement with your fingers.

“Sorry,” You apologized, “You can take a nap if you want.”

“I want to spend time with you, flower. I’ve hardly seen you.” He remarked, shaking his head in refusal.

“I’ll be here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere in this weather.” You referred to the nasty weather outside.

Neville turned his head to rest his chin on your chest to be able to look up at you. You could see it in his eyes that this week had done a number on him, but he seemed perfectly content where he was now. You swept some of the hair out of his face, his pupils dilating at the sentiment.

“Can we just lay here? Maybe talk for a bit?” He asked, his voice sounding small, “I’ve missed you, tulip.”

You smiled genuinely at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead with a nod.

“Sure. We can stay here,” You granted, “Did you have a good day?”

He shrugged, his head craning to the side just a touch as he continued to look at you.

“It’s better now. I...I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He admitted.

“Oh? All good things I hope.” You joked.

“Of course, love. I would never think badly of you.” He replied instantly.

“I know, Nev. I was just kidding,” You laughed, taking his face into your palms, stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs, “What about me had you so preoccupied?”

A sweet smile appeared on his face, his eyes brightening with happiness.

“I was thinking about how you’re so pretty; I couldn’t wait for the day to be over so I could see you...so I could touch you,” He explained, his hands trailing from your waist to your hips, “Haven’t seen you all week and I missed feeling you.”

“I missed you. I’m proud of you for working so hard.” You complimented him.

His voice had faded into a huskier tone, his eyes practically gleaming with anticipation. He pressed  a kiss just above your navel through your sweater, his fingertips curling around the hem of it. He went to lift it over your body, but you stopped his hands.

“Wait, don’t. I don’t...want to do this right now.” You blurt out, shimmying higher against the headboard away from him.

He caught your panicked tone and his shoulders dropped. Normally, if you weren’t feeling up to sex he’d just mumble a short “okay” and then move on. This time, though, he could tell it was something more than you just not feeling like it.

“But...I want to touch you. I want to make love to you.” He said, returning to his normal tone.

He kissed a few more times against the material of your sweater as he awaited a response. Body image was something that you had struggled with countless times before. It was something that Neville had always been willing to help you work through, praising you and assuring you that he thought you were perfect. It helped some, but some days were better than others.

“I know, angel, I just...don’t want to.” You lied.

Neville’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. It had been quite a while since you had shied away when he tried to take your clothes off. He figured that since you hadn’t really been around each other lately that you had fallen back into a pit of doubt.

“If this is about your body, [Y/N], you know that I think you’re stunning,” He hushed out, his fingers dancing along your sides, “You don’t have to hide from me.”

You looked away from him, watching the layer of raindrops on the window from the steady storm outside. When you didn’t give him a response, he continued on.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I want you to see yourself the way that I do,” He stated, “I’ll never pressure you into anything, but I do love you. I love every inch of you.” 

He gazed up at you with pure admiration and desire. He would tell you for the rest of your life that he thought you were the most wonderful human to ever walk into his life. He cherished you and everything about you. He hated that you sold yourself short.

“I love you, Nev. I guess it’s just hard to see myself as beautiful.” You responded, nervously twirling at the hair on the back of his head.

His lips upturned into a slight smile, his head pinging with an idea.

“Can I show you?” He questioned.

“Show me?” You echoed.

“How beautiful you are?” He elaborated.

Your heart took a leap, but despite your hesitation, you nodded. His hands returned to the bottom of your sweater, but waited before trying to remove it.

“Can I...take this off?” He asked, pausing before doing anything.

You nodded again, and he whipped it off of your upper half. Neville’s eyes widened and his cheeks went red when he saw your breasts peeking over the top of your bra. You could feel the warmth of his blush under your fingertips, something that you always found endearing. Neville was easily flustered. He was shy, and it didn’t take much to have him red in the face. He had become much more confident with you over time to the point where he wasn’t constantly bashful around you. Although, your tits never failed to bring a pink tinge to his face.

“Pretty, pretty, pretty…” He almost whispered, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your right breast, “All mine too. Thank Merlin I don’t have to share with anyone. Not sure I’d like that.”

His kisses moved up your chest to your neck where he stopped to suck softly in a few of your more sensitive neck areas. His hands were gentle on your body, one cupping your breast and the other beginning to fiddle with the side of your knickers.

“Neville…” You breathed out when he sucked just below your jugular.

“Mmhm?” He hummed, not interested in stopping what he was doing.

“I want you to…” You sighed when he moved to your other side, “...to fuck me.”

He chuckled kindly into your skin, capturing your lips in a deep kiss before complying.

“Anything for you, my pretty girl.”

[eiieiioo]

school

The main problem I find in the current schooling system is that it’s not mistake friendly in any way. This issue is also closely tied with grades, standardized tests, and the competitive environment in general.

Like, I’m told that “failures are good!” “failures help you grow!” but how can we afford to fail when in reality, a single failure can ruin our future? This is very relevant in extremely academically competitive countries where, for example, a B can ruin our chances.

How can you say that “failures are good” but punish students for it? How can we risk to fail when everything is on the line?

If a student is given 2 options for a project where one is a basic, less fun, but easy and the other is more exciting, fulfilling, but difficult, you bet they will choose the first one. Because even if it’s boring, and less fun, nothing out of their passion or interest, they will choose it because it provides a good security of grades. Easier to get a good grade on. While the other option is more fun, but risky. A bigger chance to get a lower grade, and we can’t risk that.

If this is happening EVERYWHERE, can you imagine how much chances the students are missing out on? But really, who are we to blame? 

The overall focus on grades are kind of terrible. I’m not saying that we should remove them completely, but it’s better we should, you know, in a way, “isolate” them. In my class, our grades are announced publicly and the teacher’s reason for that is to “motivate” us but in my perspective, it does makes me feel so much more pressured.

If grades don’t exist, or maybe if we get automatic As for the whole year, what would you do? If we drift the focus from grades and more to learning, it would feel so, so much better. I know many people might say students will be lazy and slack off more, and yes, I can’t deny that, but that’s where the teachers and the overall environment come in. If we push our students to have the right mindset, that learning is prioritized, to co-operate with others, to be a critical thinker- that won’t be a problem.

Now, the thing is, only little students care about learning anymore. Most just want good grades and get a good job, and yes, I am one of them. This is why you see a familiar argument: “why do I have to study (insert biology statement) here if I want to become an artist?” “why do I have to learn about geometry when I want to become a journalist one day?” It’s like as if we’re limiting all these subjects into “Jobs” and careers. And guess what? I don’t blame them.

We are pushed to think that these subjects are for our future, that even if they are useless, we practice discipline, obedience, and work ethic. That’s right too, but what about the other side? the learning side? The main side?

Even if they are “useless”, what’s the harm of learning things? Oh right, grades. We get back to the start again. Grades pretty much measure anything, and most of our academic decisions are based on them. Because we’re limiting these subjects to simply just grades, we don’t actually get to enjoy the beauty of it.

I agree, how are we expected to appreciate the beauty of a school subject when our schedule is jam-packed with daily tests, exams, homework, and the pressure of grades? How are we expected to enjoy the beauty of it when it’s just listening to a teacher, homework, homework, project, test, homework again, last test, and we just move on? just like that? Not to mention to stressing of grades and other classes too, oh boy.

Now let’s just imagine how many brilliant artists, writers, mathematicians, scientists, researchers, musicians we lost just because the narrow-minded system. A lot, I know. It all comes back to grades.

Judging from personal experience (being my perfectionist self), grades make me feel everything is a competition. I see my friends to be more of competitors I have to defeat, that I must not allow to have a higher grade, than as, well, human beings that support me. It’s quite harmful. It pushes me into this, I don’t know- horrible gifted kid burnout. I think that everything is a competition, when in fact, I know for sure learning isn’t. Everyone learns in their own pace.

But as you can see, the curriculum doesn't allow us to do that. And now everything’s kind of a mess.

Yeah, I’m not saying SCHOOL IS USELESS! HORRIBLE! SATAN’S CREATION! It’s extremely flawed. In a perspective of a student, in needs to undergo lots of changes, but I think it will do it. Slowly, but surely. A single student, a single teacher, a single adult won’t be able to change this whole system at once. I just hope in the future, the education system will begin to improve. That’s it for today, peace out

RIGHT SO THAT WAS A LOT??? I GOT CARRIED TOO MUCH, GOOD NIGHT

[baku-bowl]

broke 1,000 followers (the fuck? I don't even make content people), so decided to write up a list of some (but not all, I'll make other lists later) of my favorite Bakugou-centric fic recs. my tastes run towards hurt/comfort, as you'll probably figure from the list. if there are some Baku-centric fics that you've enjoyed that aren't on here, please add them - this is definitely not a complete list of the ones I've read and love, but I'm always up for some recs. <3

fair warning, most of these are wips.

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

Social Media 101 by WindsChild8178

Part 1: Survival Guide to Fucking Up

[Solely Bakugou’s point of view]

Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body. He’s aggressive in everything he does and does everything with 100% of his heart in it. After the Sport’s Festival, Katsuki starts to get harassed by strangers for his unheroic demeanor. It starts with letters but it doesn’t end there. The moment Katsuki realizes the harassment has entered dangerous territory and he needs to tell someone, it’s already too late.

Part 2: Post Traumatic Life Disorder

[Point of View opens up to Bakugou, teachers and classmates]

When the Dorms are finally built, everyone is settling in well, but things become tense as people begin to realize something isn’t right with the recently rescued Bakugou.

[Cannon compliant right up to after the License Exam]

hands down my favorite fic in the fandom right now. it’s the one that converted me into a Bakugou lover. if you have any fondness for Bakugou as a character then it’s likely you’ve read this one already, but if not, I can’t recommend it enough. incredibly depressing, but with the hope that comfort is coming soon in the next few chapters.

The Kids Will Be Alright, Eventually by NotWithThatAttitude

Bakugou is spiraling in the aftermath of Kamino and his friends are starting to notice. He's stubborn, aggressively independent, and less than willing to dig into his past, but after a breakdown that ends with a painful secret revealed, he starts to get help.

Whether he likes it or not.

Meanwhile, a new kind of villain threatens an uneasy peace following the loss of Allmight. Whispers build as a new narrative slowly takes shape:

Hero society needs to change.

Feat. Therapy, Dadzawa, best boy Kirishima, dysfunctional families, healing, growing up, and the mortifying ordeal of being known

guys.. the medical accuracy of this fic is just... *chef’s kiss*

I rarely see mental health genuinely handled well in fics, but this one goes above and beyond. kudos to the author for doing such excellent research into psychology, and making the application of it in here not-boring. also, while this one does have abusive!Mitsuki, it’s done in a way that feels realistic, and how I usually will see it occur in real life, rather than just for the hurt/comfort feels.

fair warning, the fic can be incredibly triggering (themes of severe depression, PTSD, panic attacks, rape survival, abuse survival, suicidal ideation/attempted suicide, among other things), so be safe and heed the tw’s if you decide to read. legitimately one of my Top Favorite fics in this fandom.

Lock and Key by autochorystalize

Bakugou made a choked, gravelly noise before croaking out a low, “You can’t be serious.” His fingers ached to blow up everything in the room.

“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t change reality! This sometimes happens.” Recovery Girl clicked through his file, adding a new symbol in a previously empty slot.

- - -

A pair of eyes discreetly locked on to an explosive blond plowing his way forward, parting people in his path. He recognized the kid, of course. Anyone in the underbelly of society would recognize him, after the publicity of both UA’s Sports Festival and the events leading up to All Might’s fall. The uniform he was wearing cast away any doubts about the young man’s identity.

It was a bit of a surprise that the little firecracker presented as an omega.

- - - - - - - - -

Or: there are certain types of evil that seemed too distant, archaic violations and perversions that would never actually threaten bright-eyed heroes-in-training in the clean, modern world...but sometimes those evils aren't as distant as one might think.

remember when I said that I love a/b/o fics that are full of plot and world-building and gender-induced tension? that’s this one. the OC’s are fabulous and you love to hate ‘em. also, it’s the fic that made me fall head-over-heels for the TodoBaku dynamic, so it’s got a special place in my cold, dead heart. 

be warned, there are rather explicit non-con scenes between an adult (OC) and a minor (Bakugou) in this one, but the author warns for them in advance, and you could likely skip those parts without missing too much if you need to.

Never and Always, Eventually by Wawa_Boonliang

"Katsuki can remember the exact moment that he and Deku…that he and Midoriya Izuku became friends. He can also remember the moment he and Izuku became fierce rivals, a time when they were almost enemies.

However, what he remembers most clearly about their relationship is the moment that they moved passed rivals and became something more close than mere friends. Something more like brotherhood, something forged in fire and secured in the middle of a battlefield or in the midst of natural disaster where the number of the dead was climbing ever higher. And then it was torn from him."

Katsuki is given a second chance. A chance to save everyone. A chance to change everything.

But should he?

y’all. I’m a slutty, slutty whore for time travel fics. a time travel fic with autistic!coded Bakugou? it was love at first read.

Lessons Learned by Sif (Rosae)

Rather than the police station, Katsuki's friends bring him to a hospital after rescuing him from the villains. His wounds were minor, but it didn't make having them treated any less important. As it would so happen, Best Jeanist was also brought to this hospital after the attack.

Sometimes, small choices have a big impact on how a story plays out.

classic Bakugou hurt/comfort. this fic opened me up to the potential that could be a genuinely good Best Jeanist & Katsuki mentor-mentee relationship, and I kind of dig it and search ravenously for it in other fics now. I’m also a huge fan of the behind-the-scences Pro Hero Chat group.

Slope by sunfleurmoon

“I’m not a hero. Or a good person,” Katsuki says, giving Aizawa a pointed look, “So leave me alone. I don’t care about the League or UA, or you—” The two years he’s been away have been fine, more than fine, fucking fantastic actually if you ignore the bi-monthly near-death experiences. He doesn’t need this place. He doesn’t miss this place.

And yet, longing, a childish desire to tear up, or maybe blow something to bits, they all twist in his chest like a band of traitors regardless. “—I just want to go home.”

Or: the one where Katsuki and Izuku fail the first term exam, Aizawa discovers their pasts, and Katsuki is booted from UA. Featuring questionable descriptions of villain organizations, a slightly illegal moving shop, and your favorite emotionally constipated badass in distress with a newly discovered penchant for collecting strays.

paaaaaaiiiiiiiin. the hurt is ALIVE in this one. lots of tortured, angsty exploding child goodness. the OC’s are excellently crafted, and the Bakugou & Eri relationship? beautiful. definitely deserves a read.

Ground Zero by WindsChild8178

In the wake of Kamino, Katsuki is tested more than anyone could imagine. Bound by a villain’s quirk to keep his silence or die, he lives each day knowing it might very well be his last. He continues to work towards becoming a hero, keeping his secret from his classmates and teachers, focusing on making it through each day and trying not to allow the panic or depression to get the best of him. When the villain finally corners him with demands in exchange for his life, there is really only one answer Katsuki Bakugou can give.

honestly don't know which I want updated more - social media 101 or ground zero. this author's fics are amazing, and I really wasn't expecting the twist in this one. can't wait for windschild to come back to this fic some day.

The Defect by LadyGreenFrisbee

"Why do you want to win the Sports Festival so badly?" 

Because I want to see if the defect could usurp the masterpiece.

(In which Endeavor holds a terrible secret and Bakugo has to suffer since childhood for it.)

a great concept, and I adore the shouto and Katsuki sibling interaction here. hoping the author will come back to this one some day.

A Name That You'll Remember by Heronfem

Kirishima Eijirou is a Hero. Bakugou Katsuki... is not. Trapped in his toxic workplace and increasingly desperate to get out, Red Riot's days are only brightened by a new villain known as Caution, who's not exactly villainous and keeps accidentally doing good deeds. But when a real villain appears, a threat from the past that demands that Red Riot make the ultimate sacrifice to keep the public safe, Bakugou is forced into saving the day... and eventually, Red Riot himself.

sob story good guy villains are my weakness, this fic is a gem, and I'd kill for the sequel.

Our Hero by AnonymousTwit

He felt everything jerk to the side and throw his balance off before he saw anything, dust clouding his vision and irritating his lungs as the earth itself opened up to swallow them whole. For a single moment, in a millisecond's time, his wild eyes locked with Raccoon Eyes', hers alight with fear and adrenaline-fueled desperation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that it was the first time she'd looked at him with something other than long-deserved hatred in days.

And then he was free falling.

Or

After a particularly nasty encounter between childhood friends, the class learns about Bakugou and Midoriya's dark history and practically ostracizes Bakugou while trying to defend Midoriya. An earthquake during an outing has all sides regretting their decisions.

just fucking tear apart my self-sacrificing faves in every way imaginable while their loved ones watch on in terror. 💖🥰💖 this one is heavy on the Bakusquad and Class-1A feels, and VERY heavy on the Mina & Bakugou relationship (platonic).

Running back the tape, watching it replay by Faralyne

For someone ripped from their time, ripped from the few but strong relationships built by time and personal development, by self-reflection and swallowed pride, ripped from the one thing that made him feel worthwhile and needed and put-together, and forced to forge everything over again—Katsuki thinks he is handling it pretty fucking well.

Or

A villain’s quirk sends a 29-year-old Bakugou back in time to his middle school days.

am I a sucker for time travel? yes. am I a sucker for vigilante!bakugou? also yes. am I a sucker for this fic? literally refreshing the page in wait for an update as we speak.

Liability by sandelf

After All-Might dies rescuing Bakugou from the League, Bakugou is determined to prove it wasn't for nothing.

But the world is against him, his grief is overwhelming, and his stability is splitting at the edges.

very self-indulgent bakugou angst. tw for harassment, severe depression, and suicidality.

Special Mentions:

How To Win The Sport Festival: A Step By Step Guide by mhwright

Short re-imagining of the Sports Festival Arc if Shinso had planned a little better and worked a little harder to win the Sports Festival and if the match-ups had been slightly different. Self-indulgent fic of watching him succeed.

this is completely Shinsou-centric, not Bakugou-centric, but I love and adore it and am dying for a sequel. Shinsou is Best Boy here and you'll be rooting for him the whole time.

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 257, Replies Part 2

1) “oh- Wait, it was actually about your quirk. Goddammit Bakugo. Now I keep wondering if all of Midoriya`s quirks will be things that Bakugo is capable of doing with his own, that would be hilarious.”- There is actually a school of thought that states that Bakugou has a decent chance to be the number one hero on his own, even lacking OFA’s immense strength and multiple abilities, so long as he leverages the one ability he has well. Superman may be nigh invincible, can fly, lift buildings and has laser vision, and move faster than a speeding bullet, but the Flash can move even faster than him, and can outpace him in those parameters because his own powers are stated towards a higher focus in one specific area, as opposed to Superman’s versatile abilities giving him a wide range of applicability to any situation, but not to the same heights as some of his fellow super humans, depending on what the issues challenging them are. Bakugou might not become the force of nature that Izuku can easily become once he unlocks his full range of powers, but his focus on his explosion-based move set might allow him to outmanoeuvre Izuku in some areas, like instantaneous movement to reach a target, or pin-point damage to a specific area in a fight. 2) “Oh look at- goddamn we`ve came a long way, one would never suspect the things that happened at the start of the series… Goddammit, if only they were always like this, if only…”- This image is total sibling energy. 3) “Yeah All might, your kids will be alright, for the next three months or so, then god knows what will happen.”- Welp, the months are up, time to find out what happens. 4) “WAIT

WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE, THEY DIDN`T TOLD US THE OTHER QUIRKS

THEY JUST TOLD US THAT NANA WAS AIR FORCE ISSHIN AND THEN THEY MOVED THE SCENE ALONG GOD FUCKING DAMMIT ALL MIGHT YOU`RE GONNA KEEP THIS A SECRET FROM THE AUDIENCE?!”- Gotta keep some cards up our sleeves for the dramatic reveal when they’re needed most, don’t we?

5) “AND TODOROKI BRINGING DISHONOR TO HIS FAMILY NAME BY NOT KNOWING HOW TO CHOP THE INGREDIENTS OH MY GOD THERE`S SO MUCH GOING ON”- This implies that Bakugou respects Fuyumi’s cooking skills so much that he’s now holding Shoto’s further cooking and housekeeping skills to her standards, which is an impressive feat for her to achieve from just the one meal she served.

6) “Oh? Class B will show up as well?! Hell fucking yeah! I want to see more of them as well.”- Well, it’s now D-day, so I expect we’ll be seeing a lot more of them, along with any able-bodied hero hopeful, when it’s time for both sides to lay out all their cards on the table. 7) “And Todoroki is once again such a fucking mood”- His lack of social skills translates into a lack of dinner manners, despite Fuyumi’s repeat tuition. 8) “I was going to use another shot name but goddamn I can`t focus on anything but the fact that Hagakure got good enough with her light bending she managed to make the ingredients and part of Ojiro transparent. Holy shit dude.”-Huh, I thought that was meant to be the steam coming off the food blurring his figure, but I guess not. 9) “Shut up Mineta, you better get ready for it, because you`ll definitely fail it- oh wait, I just realized that they won`t even get to the final exams, because by then Shigaraki will have awoken.

oh.

oh no. Oh no, this dinner suddenly has “last time we are all together” vibes”- Their last normal moment before the storm hits, even if they probably technically had a few more relaxing moments together in the intervening months covered by the time skip, because for us, Horikoshi’s moving the story straight to the climax action right now. 10) “Alright, now that Midoriya raised the biggest fucking death flag imaginable, let`s move towards characters that aren`t doomed to die tragically by the end of this, alright?”- Well, he’s still got Nighteye’s ominous prophecy hanging over his head, but we’ve seen how those can be averted with a team effort- the only question is if we’ll have enough time to avert whatever Nighteye saw, because right now it’s time for everything to kick off.

11) “Oh good, at least she`s been able to rest after her power started to emerge again. Jesus, she`s about to have some hard times ahead of her, and worse yet, with this battle on its way, I`m starting to believe even her will need to be ready.”- The teachers can’t be certain they can protect their own student from what’s coming anymore, let alone Aizawa’s new daughter. Eri’s always had to face the harsh reality of the world, but she might have to learn how to defend herself rather than be protected by others if things are going to be as bad as the ominous vibes are making them seem….

12) “No you can`t All might, the fuck, you suck at teaching, but you can help him with the parenting stuff, Aizawa is pretty new at this, and you have a bit of experience, so…”-Well, his issue is that right now, he does feel that he can’t help at all- in fact, it’s Aizawa that ends up giving him the help and moral support here, rather than what he was offering.

13) “Well, he probably is a bit thoughtful considering some memories about his master are being brought to light again. He`ll probably will have to handle the memory of her death, so he can teach Midoriya where he can`t fail.”- That, and he’s reminded of how inadequate he is as a teacher compared to her, especially with the shortcomings he’s struggling with after losing his powered and becoming much more limited as a result in what he can achieve by himself. It’s hard to step back into a supporting role after being an active player, and All Might’s still plagued by his desire to help directly, contrasted with his physical inability to do so. 14) “oh- Oh? I see… Oh, this is going to become a heavy conversation, won`t it? Alright All might, hit us. You probably had thought that your job was done once Midoriya took over the mantle for good, and that the world wouldn`t need you anymore, but it seems like you`re starting to notice that your live is still worthy even if you can`t fight anymore.”-Like any teacher, he’s realised the opportunities that come with watching your student learn from you and grow into their best person, and now he understand that, he wants to live long enough to see what Izuku will become in the future, even if he’s got a fated prophecy hanging over his head that makes him doubt whether or not he can achieve that. 15) “All Might seems to not realize that he is doing something here, something really important. He fail to notice that the kids are growing and learning because of his guidance, they wouldn`t be able to get this far without a guiding light, and he is that light.”- This somewhat calls back to how AFO taunted All Might for his powerlessness and impotence in the face of his ongoing designs during their last face-to-face meeting, and in turns proves both how well and how little he actually knows his nemesis. He understands that All Might will struggle with the inability to do anything himself about the current situation and delights in his misery for that, but in turn he believes that All Might will stay that way and sink deeper into his frustrations, unable to foresee that a pep talk from somebody like Aizawa might cause him to re-evaluate his position and importance in the world going forward. AFO can accurately predict and read his enemy’s actions, but he’s incapable of understanding how his better nature might move him away from his negative perceptions and mind-set, showing that he’s smart, but he doesn’t know All Might as well as he thinks he does. 16) “Alright aizawa, hit him with that realization of parental responsibility, show him how crucial his mere presence is for those kids, even if he never gave them a single class ever again, let him know that he is loved and wanted here regardless.”- In other words, go dad-mode on him. Aizawa cannot be surpassed in this category by anybody. 17) “Also, thank you for reminding me of your dead ex-boyfriend All Might, thank you a lot. bastard.”- He remembers both the threat that his prophecy contains that threatens the promise Aizawa gives him of a happy future, as well as his ex-sidekick’s earnest wish for him to just stop being the hero for once, again realising how much he meant to Nighteye as a person, not just a hero or the Symbol of Peace, regretting that they didn’t patch their differences up before it was too late to fully reconcile. 18) “Yeah All Might, been a while since you last thought about the fact you have value if you are not punching holes into the fabric of reality with your mighty biceps, right? It`s all good buddy, let it sink in slowly.”- The man behind the mask needs time to truly find himself again after he’s found himself living in a world where he doesn’t have to pretend to be this infallible godlike being and come to grips with both his own morality and frailty in the face of a world that has moved on from him. In some ways, All Might must feel like a ghost of his old self, but now he’s starting to accept that he’s not any lesser or worse off than he was before, and in fact, what’s he’s gained since he lost his powers matters much more to him now that the ability to resolve problems by himself, much as he struggles with the desire to. 19) “Oh wait, All might was going to talk to Stain? Why? And more importantly, why delay it? Is it because of Kurogiri? they are trying to focus on him first?”- Given how much of a crazy All Might fanboy Stain is, and how he contributed to the current strength and popularity of the league’s followers by accident, it’s possibly that they were hoping to turn that on its head, by having All Might appeal to Stain to publically speak out against the league and the way they’ve warped the message he was trying to impart to the masses. It’d certainly cause some friction in the ranks, with how Dabi earnestly believes he’s following Stain’s ‘will’ against hero society and Spinner is still greatly influenced by him, even if his loyalties have shifted to Tomura as late. On the other hand, Stain is batshit crazy, so bringing the object of his obsession right in front of him might not have the best effect they’re going for. 20) “…

oh

oh no

oh no this was a timeskip, wasn`t it?

oh noooo oh god- time`s up, isn`t it?”- You are just not having the best luck with time skips lately, aren’t you? 21) “oh boy, it`s time

the clock struck midnight, the day has finally arrived…”-  Well, actually, Caleb Cook, the MHA translator, had a – now defunct- twitter when he analysed the chapters and the background info on them in surprisingly comprehensive detail, pointing out the hidden or overlooked aspects to certain chapters or meanings to some of the details in the story. He worked out that, when Hawks delivered the message to Endeavour and we got the 4-month deadline, it was about the first-ish week of January, after New Year’s, which meant that Tomura’s timeline meant the perfect time for him to awaken would be in May- and also that the first year of Izuku’s school life was set to end before the big plan went down, since Japan starts the new school year in April. It might be far too soon for these kids to be involved in the situation with the PLF, but on the other hand, Tomura’s not ready yet either- and as has been implied, him getting more power on top of his AOE decay would be ridiculously bad for the heroes, so in a way, this is a good thing to happen right now. 22) “AND THAT WAS THE END OF THE CHAPTER APPARENTLY, AND THE START OF A LOT OF QUESTIONS

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

OKAY, I WAS READY FOR THE TIME SKIP, IT WAS WELL USED THERE, BUT OH MY GOD I WASN`T EXPECTING WHAT WOULD BE AT THE OTHER END OF IT. WHAT THE FUCK DUDE

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI, THIS IS A DIRTY TRICK TO MAKE ME CONTINUE READING THIS MANGA!”- He is quite good with his cliff-hangers, isn’t he? Think you’re ready for what’s coming? @thelreads

[anime-corner]

I'm Here | Oikawa T.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm back (hopefully for longer since classes are about to end). Anyways, this one's a bit shorter than usual. I hope you like it!

"Yahoo! Knock, knock~ Sorry, practice finished later than usual!" Oikawa called out but was only greeted by darkness, "(n/n)-chan?"

The house was still, not a single noise was heard. Oikawa doubted that you would leave without texting him, it was practically tradition to crash at your place every after school. He looked around, stealing a loaf of bread before heading upstairs. Dim lights could be seen from under the closed door as Oikawa turned the knob, inviting himself in as usual.

"Hey, Iwa-chan told me that-- what are you doing typing, er writing, whatever it is you're doing in the dark?!" He bellowed, flicking the light switch on. A hiss escaped your lips as you momentarily closed your eyes to adjust to the lighting.

"Shut up, Tooru. I'm kind of busy at the moment so if you don't mind, I'd like to finish all of this tonight." His eyes glanced over at the stack of papers on your left as your right hand hovered on top of another, gripping on a pencil tightly. Your left hand was typing away as fast as it could.

"What's all these? Haven't you finished the assignment yesterday?"

"Well, yes but, this one's for the student council. I need to file a report and it needs to be passed at midnight." You then gestured towards the paper, a bit crumpled with the many times you wrote the wrong formula, "And this is for Monday's class presentation."

"And these?" He pointed towards the stack of papers.

"That's…" You blinked a couple of times before responding, "I think it's the ones from the council three days ago that I haven't checked yet. Anyways, I'll handle that after I'm done with this."

"How many hours of sleep did you even get?" He asked.

"What? I don't think my sleep schedule has anything to do with this, Tooru." You answered, not taking your eyes off of your work.

"Just tell me." Oikawa insisted, sitting on your bed as he stared at you.

"Fine. Around two or so? I'll give it a three since I've been running on coffee since I woke up." His brows furrowed, worry etched on his face if only you took the time to look at him.

"That's not good, (n/n)-chan. Come on, I'll finish that." You shook your head, still not lifting your gaze away.

"No way, you had practice just minutes ago! I'm perfectly capable of finishing these within the day if you just so let me. Now shush-- hey!"

"I mean it, (y/n)." You huffed as you glared at him, "You need your sleep. I'll wake you up before dinner."

"What? No! I can't, Tooru!" You protested, standing up from your seat as you felt a slight pain from your head. You shook it off as nothing, "Tachibana-sensei's breathing down my neck saying she'd be the reason why I wouldn't be graduating this year."

"You still have a day to go before classes start again on Monday. You don't need to rush everything today--"

"Haven't you been listening? The report is due tonight. These," You gestured towards the stack of papers, "Might as well be due at the same time. And after this one, I've also got to revise my notes. I'm falling behind, Tooru and I don't want to hear anything from my mother once I move back."

"You won't (y/n), trust me. You're the smartest girl I know in school and probably the busiest one. I'm sure she'd be proud of you--"

"You see, that's not enough. I need to get my grades up, a bit higher than now." You countered. You retorted, huffing in annoyance at how the setter wouldn’t leave you all alone.

"You don't need to. What you need is to calm down a bit. You know that--"

"Will you stop it, Tooru!? You just don't get it, do you?! My parents thought that I would get into Shiratorizawa and what did I do? Fail the exam!" You bellowed, standing up from your seat as the male stepped back a bit. You stood up, voice raised as Oikawa stepped back, "My mom wanted me to at least be at the top during my first and second year, to at least in her words, redeem myself. But I failed on that too. Now, you're telling me to calm down? To take a break? Well, I can't. I've got my family's voices screaming at me saying I should do better! Do you know how--"

"You're crying, (y/n)..." Oikawa whispered as he placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears. You lightly pushed him back, rubbing your way with your sleeves. He pointed out. A hand lay on your cheek as his thumb wiped away a tear, you pushed him away after, wiping it away with your hands.

"S-shut up. I'm not crying. Just… leave me alone for today, Tooru. I'm really busy and I can't afford to let all of my hard work turn to dust."

"I'll help you."

"For the last time, I--" He cut you off.

"Just let me help!" He was already frustrated seeing the girl he adored so much struggling with her life.

He knew of her problem with her parents and most importantly, he knew the conflict she had with herself. He knew that feeling more than ever. And he didn't want her to feel the same way he did during that time.

And he was afraid that, while it might not cost her a knee, she might lose so much more if she continues. Perhaps, her eyesight or her health. Worst case, her life. And he wasn't going to let her get to that point.

"If Iwa-chan was here, he'd know what to do… but he isn't. And I don't want to disturb him too. I'm just trying my best to help you, because I understand, I understand you the most out of everyone," He walked closer, enveloping you in a hug as the two of you sat on the floor, "You just want to prove something but, you're all fed up about everything. You're trying your best but I guess, to others, that's not good enough."

Tears slowly dripped down from your face once again as you buried your head on his chest, gripping on his jacket, "Why can't you leave me alone, Tooru? I don't care if you get me… I just want to be left alone."

"I'm staying, (y/n) and that's final. I'm not going to let you carry that burden all by yourself anymore. I'm here, remember? I'll help you," Oikawa whispered in your ear as he caressed your back, "You're, besides Iwaizumi, the one I treasure the most. I care about you and I don't want you to suffer like this when I know that I could have tried and saved you from it."

"Why?" That one question made him silent for a while as you looked up at him.

"I… it's because…" He sighed, making you somewhat dread and anticipate the answer at the same time, "I love you, you know that? And while this might possibly be-- ah, who am I kidding? It's the worst time possible to tell you this, I don't think that I'll be able to get another chance like this."

"T-Tooru… I…" You started but went silent as he brought his hand up.

"Please hear me out?" He inhaled before opening his mouth again to speak, "I… I want to support you (y/n), the same way you and Iwaizumi did all these years, especially during the time when I overworked my knee. The two of you were always there. So, let me be there for you too."

"It's just not easy when you've been doing everything yourself for most of your life…" You gulped, avoiding his gaze as you clenched your fists tightly.

"I know. But, I really do love you. And I promise that you'll never regret choosing me unlike how I regret eyeing up girls when I knew that you were right in front of me the whole time and they'll never be you. They'll never be as hardworking, caring and overly kind as you. You're perfect and so much more. Because everything means nothing to me if I can have you to call as mine." Oikawa said, moving a strand of your hair away from your face.

"Even the nationals?" You asked, teasing him a bit.

"I… okay, maybe not the nationals. I still want to beat Ushiwaka and all. But that's besides the point," He shook his head, placing his chin on top of your head, "You're amazing and beautiful, even when you think you're not. And I'm really sorry for confessing at the worst time possible. But, believe me when I say that I love you."

"Why are you… confessing now?" Somehow, this question made him think. It's not like he hadn't practiced his answer in the mirror for a million times, making sure it was perfect to his ears. Not at all. But, given the situation, he'd have to abandon that script and start a new one.

"Well, it just pains me to see you doing the same things I did before, even though your academics and my career as a player are two different things, and I thought that if I manage to successfully tell you how I feel, I could somehow help you carry all of this. Because by that time, I would hopefully be your boyfriend." Oikawa spoke genuinely, moving one of his hands from her back to her head, stroking her hair.

"You don't need to be my boyfriend to help me, you know."

"I know that but you just make it so difficult, argh! Everytime I see you frustrated, I just wanna hug you and kiss you and then take over your work while you rest. But I can't do that as a friend! So… so..." Not that he thought about it, what he said sounded stupid, "Yeah, I know. It's a dumb excuse."

"You're an idiot." The third year laughed out loud.

"I know, Iwa tells me that all the time." You lightly hit his shoulder, hiding the smile that was threatening to show, "At least I made you smile right?"

"I guess you did, Tooru. I guess you did." He hummed in satisfaction before something else you couldn't quite figure out what was etched on his face.

"I'm not going to force you to answer my feelings right away, (y/n)-chan. I can wait." He stammered.

"Why wait when I feel the same way? I love you too, Tooru." He perked up suddenly, making you hide the massive blush on your face.

"Wait, really? You're not joking right? (y/n)?" The setter found you fast asleep, whether or not you were faking it, he wouldn't know. He only chuckled, kissing your head, "Alright… I'll let you get some rest. You deserve it."

He carried you over to your bed, tucking you in. His hand lingered on your cheek, a smile on his face as he whispered.

"Dream of me will you, (y/n)-chan?" Oikawa stood up straight, eyes darting towards your mess of a desk, "Now… which one did she say she needed by midnight?"

Let me hold your hand and carry the same burden you hold. I'll always be here, even if you push me away.

[cassava-49]

Let's Play Cupid

It was the 14th of February and Claude couldn't be happier. Today's the day of his final test as a Cupid. As a Cupid, one must know how to pair someone with a person who will make them happy for the rest of their lives, but get it wrong, let's just say that lawyers are going through a lot of checks.

In his school they were taught how pair and match people to each other. They also learned different kinds of love that could be used for the pair. They were taught how to see the signs of a mutual and capable attraction, and how to deal with the aftermath of unrequited love.

For their last test in their school in order to graduate, he must be able to pair 20 people. Given that Valentine's day is the loveliest and loneliest holiday that would be a perfect day for matchmaking. Each of their success will be recorded by a superior who will be watching them as they performed their exam. If they succeed they get to go to the human world in their assigned areas to matchmake humans in either their Cupid form or they may disguise themselves as humans to help them find their love. Given that students were not allowed to be in the human world in either form without the supervision of the superiors.

"You're Claude, right?" a fellow Cupid asked. Claude turned to find a tall man with brownish orange hair whose wingspan was twice his and had a warm brown colour. He nodded excitedly as his feathers spread out to show his excitement. "Yes sir," he replied in a high pitched tone. "I'm Sparrow, I'll be your supervisor today," the man introduced himself as he held out his hand to shake the junior's hand.

Claude took it excitedly and shook it with both hands. Sparrow grinned at the young man's excitement as he let go. "Alright, your assigned in Paris, correct?" he asked in assurance. "Yes sir, the city of love itself. I'm ready and excited for today," Claude answered. "Let's get going then, you're not the only Cupid whose been assigned to Paris," Sparrow reminded as he turned heel towards the portal. Claude hopped towards his senior and followed him to the human realm.

...

"Now students I want you to finish up to the tenth chapter of 'The Three Musketeers' by next week so that we could continue our discussion," Ms. Bustier said as she dismissed her class. The students hurriedly got out of their seats to enjoy the rest of the day.

Marinette fumbled with the letter in her hands as she looked at the boy in front of her. Noticing her actions, Alya have her a light nudge as she pointed to the boy in front of them. Marinette turned to her friend with pleading eyes trying to tell her that she can't do it yet. Alya gave out a sigh of frustration by the girl's reluctantness.

"I could give it to him for you," Alya offered. "I know this is not going to help you talk to him on your own but it's getting tiring now. Do you or do you not want him to know how you feel?" she asked her friend once Adrien left the room. Looking down at her feet she sighed and replied, "I want to, but if you do this for me how will I gave him when he gives me his answer?" Alya placed an arm over the girl's shoulder and have her a tight squeeze. She smiled at the bluenette and said, "Alright, you've got this."

A snort broke them from their moment. They turned and sneered at Felix who was giving them a heathen look. "I bet she's not going to do it," he stated as a foxy grin formed on his face. Alya scowled at the boy and crossed her arms over her chest. "I bet you wrong. You know why? Because today is the day, I can feel it. There's no better day to confess your love than on Valentine's day," she defended her friend. "Really now?" he quipped as he raised an eyebrow at the two.

"How about this, if I get to confess to Adrien today you're going to be my pack horse this weekend when I go shopping. If I don't," Marinette began. "You're going to go on a blind date with a friend of mine," Felix said as a sly smirk formed. Marinette's eyes widen as they turned into a scowl and smacked him on his head. "No way, I'm not that desperate," she exclaimed to him while he laughed at her actions.

"You know, he does have a point. But if she doesn't take the blind date I'll have it," Alya commented. "Alya! I thought you didn't want to date anyone," Marinette said in betrayal. Felix grinned and nodded and said, "I guess you could fill in for her anyway."

"That's unfair, I'm the one whose the bet about," Marinette pointed out. "Well then, are you going to take the blind date offer, then?" Felix challenged. Marinette looked at him, contemplating whether it's a good bet. "Fine, I'll do it," she finally said as she flailed her arms agreeing to their stupid bet.

He crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders while Alya placed her fingers on her forehead and shook her head in disagreement. "Alright, what are we waiting for? Let's go and see if you can really do it," Alya said as she placed her hands behind the two's back and guided them out. "Wait, wait, why is he coming too?" Marinette asked in confusion. "Well I have to see the bet go through so don't mind me," he says as they exited the room.

...

"So newbie, where are we going?" Sparrow asked as they flew over the city. Claude looked around and began to think. "Why not a high school? There's a lot of teens who are looking for love and could actually help them find the sweet young love they're looking for," he responded. Sparrow pondered and made a note on his notebook. Claude looked at him worriedly and asked, "Was I right?" Sparrow closed the notebook and replied, "That's for me to know and for you to find out, later."

Claude nodded and spotted a school with an open courtyard and landed on the roof and began to scan the perimeter. Cupids have a special ability to detect attraction and capability of humans to another. For Claude, he can see it via scents and colour, a rather rare process that makes it difficult for him to interpret.

"Alright, let's get over the point system," Sparrow spoke as he landed next to him. "If you get soulmates you get 10 points, possible lovers 9 points, young love 8 points, admiration developed through time 7, love at first sight 6, first love 5, sweet 16 lovers 4 points, retrying past relationships 3, friends with benefits 2 points, and finally casual sex 1 point, but the wild card may land you any point," he went over. Claude nodded and took in a deep breath and began to focus.

"Oh right," Sparrow interrupted. "I can deduct points as well, if you matched the wrong pairs, if you use the wrong formula I have to deduct 8 points. If you match those who are not compatible 9 points will be removed. And if you mess up a currently working relationship or possible relationship I'll be taking 10 points," he finished.

"Why are the deducting points higher?" Claude asked. Sparrow shrugged and said, "I don't really know, maybe to fail you guys faster," he joked.

Claude turned his attention back to the courtyard and began to focus on the students and took in the plenty scents and colours around him. He noticed two friends walking with each other. The blonde had two colours around her, one was white, but was slightly faded, either because of the distance or the age. The other colour was pink and it was wrapped around her friend who had the same colour.

He knew this would be a big problem if the soulmate appears but with the faded the colour made it was slightly impossible. Taking two arrows he fired at the two, making a trail of dark pink roses follow.

...

Rose giggled as she told Juleka about a cute video she watched about Prince Ali. Juleka smiled at her as a light pink blush dusted her cheeks. They both stopped in their footsteps as if they were hit with an arrow. The looked at each other and smiled.

"Do you want to, you know, go to that ice cream shop that they keep on talking about?" Juleka asked Rose. Rose smiled and nodded as she took the goth's hand and began to drag her to Andre's.

...

Sparrow looked at Claude and smiled as he said, "That gives you seven points, not bad." Claude smiled to himself as he looked back at the students as he saw a stray colour blue between two people who kept on glancing at each other. He took in the scent and realized that he need to get them back.

He took the arrows and fired at the jock and the other athlete as a trail of blue roses followed. The male pulled the typical I left something in the classroom, making the girl followed him to speak privately.

Next he saw another stray of blue from a girl who was walking into a car and a boy who was driving another couple around town. He aimed at them making the male bike towards his ex.

Sparrow raised an eyebrow at him wondering why he's wasting his points on people who broke up instead of using it to those who have a higher chance of giving him a higher point.

Claude spotted a yellow mess with a sweet honey scent from two friends who were listening to a podcast together. He smiled and shot two arrows at them changing their mood. Next he say a string of red coming from a classroom in the second floor. He flew closer to find an artist and a writer working on a comic, and are obviously attracted to each other, but are too shy to talk about it. He grinned and leaned against the door frame and shot the two arrows that was followed by red roses.

He smiled at this and suddenly caught a whiff of a zesty orange smell. He turned to find a rocker who had a hopeful look towards the girl. He was radiating a strong zest smell, but it was a weak orange colour towards his counterpart. He hates this, it makes it hard got him to decide, mostly because the girl had a strong red colour making it hard for him to decide which one to follow.

Taking a cream colored arrow, he shot it at the two. He watched as the arrows landed on the two making them meet eyes. He watched as the colour changed into a sunset orange with a mixture of a light violet as the scent was an early morning.

"Not bad, you really are moving quickly. You still have fifteen minutes left," Sparrow said as he landed next to Claude.

...

Once out of the classroom Marinette felt a different chill in the air. She shrugged it off as they tried to look for Adrien, who would be at fencing class today. They began to go down the steps, but she can't help but look around.

"Guys, do you feel the weird chill in the air?" Marinette asked. Alya shrugged and answered, "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet?"

"I'm not, it's just that there's something different about today. I mean look, Ondine and Kim are holding hands," make pointed out as she pointed at the couple who just came out of the room. Alya's eyes widened in interest and said, "Scoop! I can't believe they're back. I've got to go and ask them now. Felix make sure that she gets to confess, do not sabotage it."

Felix rolled his eyes and said, "Whatever, as long as she ends up in an awkward situation I'll be happy," he commented earning him a slap on the stomach. "Sadist," Marinette mumbled. Felix chuckled but stopped in his tracks when he saw his two friends together, closer than ever.

Following his line of sight Marinette smiled and began shaking him in excitement. "Oh my gosh, are they finally going out?" she asked as she pointed at Allan who had an arm over Allegra, while they were sitting on a bench listening to a podcast. "I don't see why it's such a big deal," he told her. "What?" she asked in an offended tone. Felix removed himself from her and said, "You know it was bound to happen so why you're overreacting about it." She huffed at his comment and began to look for a seat.

They found a bench and waited for Adrien's duel against a new student in red to finish. "There's something really strange about the air," Felix commented. Marinette nodded in agreement as she tried to figure out what's happening. It suddenly clicked, making her grin and casually reply, "I think it's love."

Felix scoffed at her answer keeping his eye at the game. "Why? Because it's Valentine's day," he sarcastically said. She rolled her eyes at him and said, "What do you know about love anyway? I'm pretty sure you haven't felt it."

He chuckled at her statement as movement caught his eye. "Well, I know when someone's attracted to another. Speak of which, it seems like I found a blind date for you," Felix stated. "Really now, I think Lila has something to say to you though," she commented noticing the brunettes movement.

...

Claude began to look around again, there he found a trio of students coming down the stairs with a string aura to them. The brunette with red tips had a strong pink colour surrounding her while a sweet Carnation smell emitted from her. The bluenette beside her had multiple colours crashing around her, but the strongest ones are white and dark pink, both pointing towards the fencer. However, the blond beside them had nothing, no colour and no scent.

This was a rare occurrence given that all of the people he had seen with this usually end up alone. It's either, they don't want to get attached to anyone romantically, or they are really good at hiding romantic attraction and thoughts. If a Cupid can't detect it, what more the person they love.

He then caught a sudden smell of a horrible odor that could cause him to puke. He turned to find a young girl who was surrounded by her peers. He looked closer and looked at the rather morseful colour colour combination the girl expelled. She was the type of people Cupids dislike, given that they are the homewreckers and whorish opportunists.

He noticed her line of sight and was locked with the blond he just saw. She watched her get up and began to walk towards the boy. He watched as the blond ignored her attempts and touches. However, at the other end he could see another boy who held a letter in his hand and was radiating an orange colour towards the bluenette, who held only the scent of friendship for him.

"You poor soul," he commented as he suddenly noticed a faint red colour mixing with the orange of the boy. Claude turned to find the source of it, it came from the brunette from the stairs who was also radiating a red colour that's mixing with the pink. He smiled as he shot both of them with the arrow.

Suddenly he a sweet fragrance of fresh wine was calling from behind. It was intoxicating and dangerous, given that it's the call of love at first sight. Claude could feel himself get reeled into it, given the aroma was to good to say no to. This made him unconsciously take up two arrows and turned to face the culprits and shot it at them while a spring is violet roses followed.

Realising what he had done he began to see the string white from the male for down. That was when he realized that that was the male fencer the bluenette was fated to. He knew he messed up big time today.

...

"Why am I not surprised?" Felix commented as Lila arrived and gave her model smile with a small wave. "Happy Valentine's day Felix," she greeted him. Marinette wanted to gag at her actions knowing they were all superficial. "What's so happy about today when today is supposed to be the death anniversary of Saint Valentine?" he asked.

"Well, it is his death anniversary. Did you know that I actually babysat his great-great-great-grandson?" Lila spectacled trying to catch his attention. Marinette lost it, making her laugh at this statement while Felix tried to school his features. "You do mean from a close relative not a direct descendant," he tried to clarify.

"Is there any difference?" Lila asked not catching on on what she just said. This made Marinette laugh harder not being able to control her laughter. "Marinette really is crazy," Lila commented. "I mean look at her, laughing at nothing," she added.

"That may be so, but if you were in her position, wouldn't you laugh as well?" Felix asked her. Lila have a puzzled look, not picking on what they both meant.

"You do know that Saint Valentine is a priest, right?" Marinette asked catching her breath. It finally clicked and she knew she couldn't back out now as she placed an awkward smile on her face and began laughing awkwardly. "You got it, it was a joke. I was joking," she tried to save face.

Luckily for her luck was on her side, as Alya arrived and placed an arm over the girl's shoulder. "Hey Lila, I have a major scoop for you," Alya said in an ecstatic voice. Feeling relieved, Lila turned her attention to the reporter, "Really, what is it?" she asked trying to sound excited. "I just found out that Kim and Ondine are back together," Alya exclaimed as she shoved her phone to the Italian's face.

"You know, you still have to notice Nino over there," Felix whispered to Marinette as he edged his head to the boy's direction. Marinette turned to look at Nino and asked, "Are you sure it's for me? I thought he had a crush on Alya if I'm going to be honest." Felix shrugged and simply said, "Whatever." As they both turned they're attention to the duel.

The duel finally ended with both of them pointing each other, making it difficult for the referee to decide. Mr. D'Argencourt smiled as he placed his hand under his chin. "Well it seems like my students are still unbeatable," he stated. "Take your saber away, along with your helmet," he commanded.

The red fencer frowned under her mask, not wanting to show her face to a crowd knowing her failure. Adrien, however, pushed his helmet back and turned to his teacher. "Are you sure, sir? I think he got the point," he defended his competitor. He turned to the fencer and said, "Why not a decisive match to prove yourself?"

The red fencer sighed as she shrugged off her helmet swishing her short dark hair and made eye contact with her opponent. But as their eyes met an instant connection was felt.

Marinette and Felix noticed this, causing her heart to clench and an unintended tear slid down her cheek. She knew that look on both of their faces very well. Those looks they are giving each other are the looks of people who have fallen in love with the first time they made eye contact.

She couldn't help but feel like she's not going to get the answer she would be hoping for. This made her get up from where she sat and began to run out of the school.

...

Sparrow looked at the horrible mistake that Claude had made. He looked at the male fencer and the fleeting figure of the bluenette. Those two were meant to be soulmates, but it seems like Claude paired the wrong couple. He looked back at where the girl sat, only to find that the blond male had gotten up and followed behind her.

Even for Sparrow he wasn't able to hear any form of love emanating from the boy, but seeing him follow after his friend he couldn't help but hear the enchanting symphony of soulmates from him. He looked back at his student and approached him from behind.

"You have to fix this you know that," he told Claude. Claude looked lost as he placed his hands on his head. "I-I don't know how to fix this. They were supposed to be soulmates and I separated them because of a spontaneous emotion," he ranted, feeling angry about himself for making the wrong decision in matchmaking.

Sparrow placed a hand on his shoulder and told him, "It seems like you're forgetting a little thing about soulmates." This hit him as he flew up immediately and began to look for Marinette to set it right.

...

Marinette didn't know that she started to run away from him. She just ran and ran with no direction not caring where she was going as the tears streamed from her face. She even left her schoolbag and dropped the letter she was going to give to Adrien. She finally got tired and sat on the closest bench she found and began to cry her eyes out.

Passersby looked at the girl with pity knowing that she's one of the unfortunate souls that Valentine's day looked down on. But she didn't care about what the other people thought, she just cared about the look Adrien was giving his fencing opponent. Indeed that girl looked beautiful and strong, she had a confident aura around her. Not to mention, she looked like she had a lifestyle and status that was similar to Adrien. How can she ever compete with that.

"Of all the places you could be in, you chose that most romantic spot in Paris," Felix spoke in front of her. She looked up to find him kneeling before her to match her height. He placed her bag and the letter next to her as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. She silently took it and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. He got up and sat next to her with their bags in between.

"You saw it too didn't you?" Felix asked Marinette. She nodded solemnly not wanting to face him with her tearstained eyes and runny nose. "You recognized the look on their faces?" she asked mildly surprised that he knew what a lovestruck face looked like. "I'm not that heartless you know," he replied as he placed both of his arms on the top of the bench's backrest. She snorted and chuckled at his answer as she wiped her eyes again.

The two stayed silent for a while as Marinette tried to compose herself. "Thanks for bringing me my bag," she said once she felt that she would no longer cry. He hummed a 'you're welcome' to her as he looked at the changing sky. She took the note that she wrote for Adrien and began to contemplate as she strolled down memory lane.

...

Five months ago

"You're such a dick, Felix!" Marinette screamed at him as he was sitting on the branch of a tree reading her diary. "Scream all you want, this cat isn't getting down, and remember there are kids in the park," he mocked her with one hand holding the tree and the other he placed his head on to of it while he held the diary and gave her a wink. He adjusted his position as he leaned his back on the main stem of the tree as he began to read her diary aloud.

"Today was an amazing day, I was able to go to the movies with Adrien~ even though I was in my pajamas wearing pink goggles and a towel on my head," he read in an over the top voice making him laugh loudly. "Seriously Marinette, that was the only thing you wrote as the highlight of the day," he added as the bluenette turned red in anger and embarrassment.

"Just shut up and give me my diary back," she shouted at him, losing her patience. "You shouldn't leave these things out in the open you know. If you already had a box for it make sure that it's always in there," he told her sad he continued to flip through the pages.

This made the girl climb the tree as well, hoping to retrieve it before he reads anymore of her embarrassing secrets. Felix, on the other, was rather enjoying this, he knew he still had time given that he's at the top and it would take a while before she'd reach him. He flipped through some pages and a certain word caught his attention.

He read it silently, "Dear Diary, today Felix annoyed the hell out of me again. But I can't help but feel happy to know that at least someone was brave enough to point out my flaws. He's actually right about me being a doormat when it comes to my friends, I noticed that now. Even though he insults us it seems like he's actually looking out for us in his own way (at least he's not as bad as Chloe). He's starting to grow on me despite the horrible first impression we got from him. I just hope that he'll start saying things in a nicer way. I feel like if he was kinder he would be like an antisocial version of Adrien, they look so alike.

"If you look at his blond hair, it's so kept you'd think that he consumes a single can of hairspray or hair gel every day to keep it that way. His eyes are darker than Adrien's though, making him look more mysterious. It makes me wonder what goes on in that thick head of his. Is he thinking of different ways to judge everyone or world domination? Or is he think of, nevermind, as if he'd be think of that. But his eyelashes are very much longer than Adrien's giving him a kind of feminine touch, maybe he got it from his father. But when he looks at me it sometimes makes me feel like Adrien's looking at me.

"Oh Adrien, I just love sitting behind him, because I get to look at the back of his head all the time and when he stands up I could sometimes look at his cute butt. Wait, if Adrien and Felix look very much alike do they have the same body build, like is Felix as ripped as Adrien? Then that would mean—"

"Gotcha!" Marinette exclaimed as she took her diary from his hands. Felix flinched at this realising that he was no longer paying attention to the owner. She gave a victorious laugh only to lose her balance and fall. He reacted quickly, stretching out his arm and caught her, but he was dragged down. He turned them so that he would take the impact as he held Marinette in his arms protectively.

Felix groaned on impact feeling like he broke something. Marinette quickly got up and began scolding him. "What do you think you were doing? You could've been severely injured taking the fall for both of us. But you did deserve for reading my diary," she rebuked. He gave out another groan as he mumbled an apology to her.

"I know, I know, it was stupid of me and I kinda deserved it," he says as he tried to get up. "You think," she sarcastically replied. She sighed as she helped him up as he winced and whimpered. "Ow, ow, ow, careful, I'm fragile," he whined. "Why? Cat didn't land on his feet and ended up bruised," she mocked him. She brought him the get house, where they were supposed to be doing a pair project only to have a brawl.

She placed him on their sofa and began treating his bruises. "I'm sorry," he said as he winced at her touch. "I shouldn't have took your diary it's private," he apologized as he looked at the first aid kit in front of her. "I should be sorry too," she said. "I'm so clumsy that I lost my footing and fell," she explained. The two fell silent as she finished up. "Thank you," he told her. She smiled at his gratitude and replied, "You're welcome, but I should thank you for taking the fall for me. He gave her a smile as he awkwardly scratched his nape and said, "I had it coming. Karma is a bitch anyway." She placed a kiss on his bruised forehead silencing him.

...

Marinette began tearing the love letter she made for Adrien. Felix looked at her with confusion, but didn't stop her. Once she finished she got up and threw it in the trash can and went back to where she sat.

"Are you giving up?" he asked trying to fill in the silence. She looked up at the sky whose colours were changing and turned into a sea of coral colours. "I guess so, I don't want to abuse myself with my obsession with him. He needs me as a friend not as a lover, the same goes for me. I always felt like we were just meant to be friends and I'm happy with that, as long as I'm in his life and he's in mine," she replied.

This made him smile as he looked at the sky as well. "So you gonna start looking for other guys?" he asked her. She shrugged still looking at the sky, "Maybe," she replied. He turned his head slightly to look at her and said, "Luka perhaps? He's s great guy anyways." She turned her head slightly at him and asked in a confused tone, "Weren't you going to set me up on a blind date?"

"Are you still willing?" he challenged with a cheshire smile. "Only if you'll be my blind date," she joked. For some of reason this made his heart skip a beat like that time during their project. She laughed at his reaction as she turned back to the sky. It was short lived because she felt herself get dragged from her seat.

"Where are we going?" she asked rather lost as to why he grabbed her hand and bag. He flashed her a toothy grin and said, "On a date, of course." This made her flush stopping in her tracks, this made him stop as well. He neared her only to have her grip his hand tighter and dragged him along. "Keep up, were going ice cream hunting," she said in a happy tone.

Sparrow and Claude sat on the railings of the Eiffel tower with a satisfied look on their faces. "They are more than two fragments of an original soul," Claude whispered

[shoichee]

Hello! Can I perhaps ask for no. 28. “Make me” from your prompt list for my beloved Imayoshi? It's so nice seeing him here on your theme and avatar and that pERFECT url, it feels like I finally found my people.

HELLO HELLO, and YES I WAS SO SURPRISED THAT NO ONE TOOK THIS URL... considering that it was just an alternative spelling of shoichi and its a rlly short handle too mwehe // im sort of a particular person when it comes to how something looks, whether itd be outfits, drawings, coloring, and the UI of a blog, u name it.... i may have spent hours trying to have the perfect colors for this theme PLEASEEEE, but without further ado here is our man, our little shit, Imayoshi

@knb-kreations howdy! another new work posted here!

Imayoshi x Reader

28. “Make me”

Word Count: 2331

prompt list here

»»—————　☼　—————««

Imayoshi doesn’t exactly know how he feels about you.

Scratch that, he does know. He’s quite amused at the shenanigans you pull on others around you, and a lot of times, you actually elicit a few dry laughs out of the guy. Other times though, he’d wish that you would just shut the fuck up, especially when all he hears amidst his studying was your loud “whispering” and “hushed” jokes. How you were always nearby no matter where he is was still a mystery that he casually ponders about from time to time. Perhaps your natural tendency to project your voice creates the illusion that you were near when you really weren’t?

No matter, such trivial thoughts can’t occupy his mind when college entrance exams loom closer. Then again, they weren’t particularly difficult; they were simply a hassle to secure near-perfect scores, especially when his chances of admittance rely critically on how well he does.

“That’s an awful drawing of a samurai,” Susa comments, snapping Imayoshi out of idle thought.

“Ho? Is it really terrible if you were able to tell what it is?” Imayoshi chuckles. “The point of a drawing is to convey the right idea or emotion. It seems that my drawing skills hit a bulls-eye with this sketch, no?” He playfully spins his pencil around, patiently waiting for his reply to goad him.

All Susa does in response is to roll his eyes before he turns his full attention back to his notes. He knows better than to try a comeback against Imayoshi, who can easily make it backfire against the person with a pleasant close-eyed smile. Imayoshi, seeing Susa’s nonverbal resign from engaging further banter, also looks down back to his book of scribbled notes and chicken-scratch drawings before he exhales an inaudible sigh.

School just doesn’t cut out to be mentally stimulating for him. It’s a little too repetitive and mundane for his taste.

“Argh!! Oh no!” your voice rang out, despite your poor attempt to be reasonably quiet. “I forgot applications for the Coca-Cola scholarship are due today!”

Coca-Cola… what?

Everyone looks up to warily eye you, and your few friends, who are currently rushing to pull you down and slap their hands over your mouth to mute you, were panicking at the new attention you managed to garner. Even still, your mind seems more fixated on whatever was on the laptop’s screen, rather than what they were doing to you.

Imayoshi can’t help but stifle his audible mirth from how you manage to change the mood of the entire library within seconds.

“How do you even forget something as important as a huge scholarship like that?” Susa says in dismay. “Makes me kind of wonder how (l/n) would handle life after graduation, to be honest.”

“Well,” Imayoshi begins. “I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s best not to underestimate (l/n)-san. Surely we’ve learned our lesson with Seirin?” He toys with the pencil grip before he sporadically draws some lines loosely resembling another sketch.

“Drawing again?” Susa raises a brow. “Have you even been studying?”

“Well,” he replies. “There’s still plenty of time before exams—months to be exact. Could you even study with the current distractions in here?” At his own words, he nudges his chin in your direction.

“It’s not just any exams though, it’s—”

“Whether they have more importance or not doesn’t really concern me. After all, standardized testing isn’t worth stressing out for when we’ve taken essentially the same thing all our lives.”

“What most are worried about is the content inside the exams, Imayoshi,” he said, carefully treading into dangerous waters with Imayoshi’s tendency to take all replies as mind-game challenges for his own amusement.

“‘If you have been paying attention consistently throughout the year, you wouldn’t be having much trouble…’ that’s what you once oh-so-wisely said to Wakamatsu yesterday, hmm?” His mimicking tone drips a hint of arrogance. “Unless you mean to tell me my ears do not work? But by all means, please feel free to correct me.”

“That’s different,” he sighed, his face clearly evident that he was done with Imayoshi’s shit. “That exam only tested content for the past year, not your entire academic repertoire over the courses of middle and high school.”

“I’d like to think that the logic still applies the same way.”

“Well,” Susa heaves with a languid stretch. “You generally score better on the exams than me, so you’re probably right. Still, don’t neglect your studying.”

“Right, right, Susa-senpai~”

“... Please don’t call me that again.”

“... If you say so,” he said, but his smile blatantly showed his real intentions of never stopping his irritable quips. Susa gets ready to pack up his book bag before he heads out the door with a friendly wave. Imayoshi half-heartedly returns the gesture with a casual wave of his own. He immediately notices you also packed up and about to leave with a worried frown, and of course, while audibly mumbling your concerns and makeshift schedules to accommodate time for last-minute essay writing. By now, all of your friends have left for home.

“Ah, biology lab due next week, kanji worksheets due tomorrow, hmm, um, how would I finish this on time… ah, calculus test is tomorrow too, ah shit… should I ask someone to tutor?—ah, but it’s super last minute, and there’s still that scholarship… argh, fuck!” Your voice peaked in volume at the end, and the librarian immediately shot daggers at you.

“Shhhhh!”

“A-Ah! S-Sorry, sorry!”

Imayoshi was watching you with his chin on his arm propped up on the desk, unable to control the smile that escaped his lips. You really were entertaining to watch, and you never cease to bore him.

He turns away to crack his neck and roll it around before methodically packing up his writing utensils and notebooks. Soft shuffling filled the air as he rearranged the items inside his bag. As he turns to pack the last thing on the table, which happened to be the notebook filled with his idle doodling, his face slightly softens at the drawing he did after the samurai. Yes, the one Susa chastised him for when he could’ve been studying. Yes, perhaps he was right when he was terrible at drawing after all; your panicked face and wild hand gestures didn’t really translate well into paper, and it looked a little too much like a horror comic and less than a sketch of you. Still, he’s oddly proud of it.

Imayoshi promptly pushes the chair in and leaves the library, but when he rounds the corner of the adjacent hallway, he bumps into you.

“Er—hi! I mean, please, uhhh… if it isn’t too much to ask—canyoupleasetutormeforthecalculustesttomorrowbecausemyfinalgradedependsonthat?”

Imayoshi winces at the sheer volume of your voice and plugs his ears in out of habit to block out some of the decibels. Wakamatsu was eerily similar to you in that regard. Only difference between the two of you was that you were deceptively intelligent. Extremely so.

“My, my, if it isn’t (l/n)-senpai!” He fakes a surprised look, earning him an eye roll on your end. “You need someone like me to teach you the works?”

“I—what? We’re literally in the same calc class, Imayoshi,” you retort. “Besides, drop the ‘senpai’ honorific. It feels so slimy when you say it so disingenuously… Aren’t we both 3rd years too?”

“I’m so hurt,” he mocks. “What if I was really genuine with you?”

“Look, right now, no remarks from you, Evil Glasses,” you say. “It’s really, really urgent and I don’t know how to grasp the material for the class lately, plus my essay, ugh…” You rub your fingers against your temples in an attempt to make the stressful headaches disappear while Imayoshi simply watches with his eyes slightly open.

“... You usually do well on all your exams, no? Unless my eyes and memory fail me.” It was true; even though you were as loud-mouthed as Wakamatsu, you would often shock a lot of people when your name always appeared in the higher percentiles of exam results. Apparently most students and teachers associate your rowdy personality with an expected subpar academic performance. He has you to thank for when your score reports always cause reactions of utter disbelief from the teachers. You really do liven up the school and make it a lot more unorthodox.

“I guess…” you mumble. “But I really wanna do especially well for this one because math is my weakest subject, and you always score the highest for these types of exams, so…”

“It may be my best subject,” he says, leaning slightly closer to your face. “But I’m not the one with the highest scores in any math subjects throughout these years, and we both know that quite well, don’t we, (l/n)? Why don’t you come clean about the real reason why you’re here?”

“Oh my literal fuck—Imayoshi, you’re one of the best students in calc right now regardless of exam results,” you petulantly huffed, not backing down from his intimidation. Imayoshi notes your cheeks reddening, and he figured it was either because of the close proximity between your faces or the fact you were frustrated… perhaps both. “And you’re the only one around here on campus who I could ask!”

“Really now,” he chimes, moving closer to whisper in your ear. “Are you sure?” With incoherent stammers, you backed away from him, slapping your hands against both of your ears to protect them.

“W-W-What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Looks like I won this one, (l/n)-san,” he purrs, relishing the fact that only he could render you this quiet. “Ho? What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“I—Shut up!” you lamely shoot back. “You can just say no if you really don’t wanna do this—urgh, I’m leaving, I’m not gonna waste any more time—”

“How hurtful,” he dryly remarks, standing up straight again after leaning for a quite a while. “It’s almost as if you’re rejecting me~” He knew you would always take his bait and quip back (unlike Susa), regardless of whether or not you tell him that you weren’t going to engage further.

“As if,” you snorted, making another exaggerated eye roll. “You’re the last person who would ever be hurt from this.”

“Dear me!” he exclaims. “Have you ever considered that perhaps I don’t help out people for free? Did you think I would be a gracious, selfless person who would help you like a saint?”

“Okay, fine! Perhaps I didn’t think that far ahead, okay? You just were the first person that came to mind, and I thought asking you wouldn’t hurt.” His smirk widens almost maliciously at your words, lips already opening to deliver another irritating quip before you immediately spoke again to stop him. “Okay, Imayoshi, you little shit, just shut up—I don’t wanna hear anything from your mouth right now.”

“I don’t see any reason why I should listen to you at all,” he muses. “Why don’t you make me?” He has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, eagerly eyeing your next move, and as he expected, you let out a frustrated noise that prompted passerby students to shoot pointed looks towards the both of you.

What he didn’t expect was for you to take a huge step towards him, unceremoniously pull him down to your level, and press a reverberating smack on his lips. His eyes are immediately blown wide open to look at your embarrassed, but determined face. His fingers unconsciously move to touch his warmed lips.

“... That was quite romantic, wasn’t it, (l/n)?” he dryly says, recovering almost immediately from the shock. All the other students fled from the blatantly bold scene to save face. Not that Imayoshi really cared.

“Okay, you know what? Bye, I’m not gonna play anymore mind games with you,” you grumble. “Essays and studying aren’t gonna be done by themselves—wah!”

Imayoshi gently tugs you back to reciprocate back a kiss, meticulously slipping his hands behind your head and on your waist to accommodate you. Your eyes are completely open from the shock that the Imayoshi Shoichi was actually kissing you. You don’t close your eyes from the sensation, completely entranced when you make eye contact with his half-lidded eyes watching your every reaction closely. The kiss ended all too soon, and Imayoshi separates himself from you, secretly admiring your dazed look.

“That was quite a strong reaction to just a simple kiss.”

“I—that was not just a ‘simple kiss!’”

“Now would you like to tell me the true reason why you approached me?”

“You’re… insinuating that you know something.”

“Well we wouldn’t know unless you come clean,” Imayoshi purrs. “I can sometimes be wrong too.”

“Ugh, what the hell—fine, I am quite enamored by you, and uh, I… find it infuriating to be with you, but it also gives me butterflies… so I thought I could be with you more… if I asked you—don’t get it twisted, though! I still need your help to study!...” He covers his mouth to suppress a laugh at your honesty.

“Was it really so hard to say that in the beginning, (l/n)-san?”

“Okay, that’s it! I’m really, really leaving! Fuck off, Imayoshi, I swear to—”

“Ho? Just a minute, darling~” he tuts, reaching to hold your hand. “Perhaps if you offer more kisses as an incentive, I’d be more inclined to offer my expertise.”

“How quaint,” you dryly reply. “It’s almost as if we’re in a relationship.”

Imayoshi can’t help but bark out a genuine laugh. You even managed to pick up some of his mannerisms so quickly.

“That’s an interesting proposal, (l/n),” he murmurs. “Should we try that?” You tut at him irritatedly as you tug your interlocked hands while speed-walking ahead.

“Hurry up, or I’ll consider breaking up with you right now.”

“Ah ha!~” he chuckles at your attitude. “How mean, (l/n)-san! Too bad that we both know that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

[piratewithvigor]

Dr. Isaac Yankem, D.D.S.

There are no fics of this man that I can find. So I wrote this one. Half was written under heat stroke and the other half while watching a druggy kids' show with a plate of nachos. At no point did I ever have an idea of what plot actually is. The coherency left after the fifth article I read on what to expect from dental school. Inspired by a silly tidbit I sent to @old-no7 and wrote it with @the--blackdahlia in mind.

Emphasised Dental Malpractice below

The preparation had been going on for weeks. Arguably the biggest first year project they let you do in dental school. A quiz had happened for every section of the project, a test after every quarter of the material was covered and a massive exam before they would even let you try to get started. It was grueling, but it was what you signed up for: the first clinical cleaning you’d ever get to complete.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the most glamorous-sounding project on the planet and maybe it was only going to last a few minutes once you actually got started, but when your professor had announced that it was coming up sooner than the class thought, the excited energy was intoxicating. Of course, after graduation, almost none of your classmates would actually be performing these cleanings; that would be left to hygienists. But this was the first step. It wasn’t even spring break yet and you were going to get actual experience on an actual human being instead of just picking dried crud off a set of dentures.

Everyone was going to get a shot to work on a classmate, but that meant that a classmate was also going to work on you. Partners were going to be randomly assigned the day of the cleaning so no one would actually know who they were working with until they walked into the room (a rule supposedly put in place after some of the frat guys would eat the stickiest taffy they could find to make their buddies fail). You were slated to be cleaned first, which was fine by you. Gave you a chance to see what the process of examination would be. What to do and what not to do and all that.

Come the day of the cleaning, you got yourself situated in the chair and waited, drumming your fingers on the armrest excitedly. The student assigned to you is probably getting directed to the room with the examiner, just as nervous as you are. They’d get a quiet reassurance by the examiner, open the door and the project would begin, just like if you were in a real clinic and they were your real dentist.

The doorknob rattled quietly and you turned as far as you could in the chair to face your incoming visitor. Upon seeing him, maybe tilting your head up would have been the right call. Looking to where you expected his head to be offered nothing but a broad chest and a white coat that was struggling to stay buttoned over it. Another foot higher was letting you look him in the eyes. Light blue and glistening with excitement. His smile was quiet and nervous. Felt the same way about this whole project as you did.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Isaac Yankem. I’ll be your dentist for today,” he introduced himself, the faintest hint of a tremble in his deep voice. Yankem. You remembered that name. The professor had made an ironic joke about it during attendance in the first lecture. He’d been sitting behind you, so you didn’t get a good look at him at the time. Understandable, since you had to guess his height around seven feet, maybe more, but a damn shame. He was gorgeous enough that you almost forgot you were also supposed to talk.

“Nice to meet you, doctor,” you choked out, offering him your hand to shake. He took it in a grip that was obviously far lighter than he was capable of and shook once.

The examiner entered behind him and closed the door. Some TA you’d never spoken to. Isaac looked to him like he wasn’t sure how to begin exactly.

“Just pretend I’m not here. Proceed how you’d give a routine cleaning. I’m just marking on if you got all the steps and general bedside manner,” he explained, taking a seat in the corner of the room, out of your line of sight. Isaac nodded, his thick blond curls falling into his eyes a little.

“Beside manner… right…” he mumbled, pulling on a surgical mask.

“You don’t have to worry, I don’t bite,” you joke lightly, getting a little of your nerve back. Isaac seems to relax as he chuckles behind the mask.

“Hope not. I need all my fingers for the rest of the exams. I’ve got casts to make in lab next week and that stuff is tricky enough as it is.”

“I hear that. I kept ripping the teeth out of the plastic models until I finally got the mixture for the plaster right,” you mention. Light conversation. It should help him get a better grade and if it put him at ease, there’d be much less likelihood of getting stabbed in the gums with the scraper.

“I think the prof was almost convinced I’d ripped the teeth out of my model on purpose the first time. There were more stuck in the plaster than there were still there,” he commented, calmly pinning the bib around you.

“You… it was an accident, right?” You asked, hoping those adorable curls weren’t hiding something sinister. He just winked, smirking behind the mask.

“I plan to specialise in prosthodontics. Best to get in the practice early on if you know what you want to do, right?”

“Right...” Prosthodontics was the area concerned with the restoration and maintenance of oral function, comfort, appearance and health. In other words, replacing teeth and surrounding tissues.

“But you’re not here for any of that. I can handle a cleaning just fine.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was convincing you. He reclined your chair and turned on the overhead light. Seeing you on your back, helpless… it made the nerves fade away.

Thing felt natural, felt right sitting above the patient. A tray full of sterilized tools at the ready. It gave a sense of power. Easily addictive. You could see the glint of the recognized power in his eye before he held the scraper above you.

“Open wide…”

[igotyouniverse]

Higher

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader

Request: henlo I know I already requested something, but can I please get drabble prompt no 7 with hyunjin from stray kids, either like rivals to lovers or maybe secret crush. And make it SOFT please. fast forward 15 minutes` → make it ;) now.

Prompt: “That's the eggnog speaking.”

Genre: rivals to lovers, non idol au, fluff ending, suggestive.

/Lots of bickering and oppressed feelings and ;) tension, friends trying to hook you up with Hyunjin, who you’re totally not interested in.

Warnings: light swearing, alcohol, suggestive(!!), make-out

words: 2.7k

Part of my Seasonal Requests Special - Winter Edition.

a/n: This was so much fun to write. Oh and it's a full-blown scenario. Whoops. This was requested by my best friend: @ithilinne Honestly I hope you find it as funny as I do, lol. ❄️❤️❄️❤️I enjoy writing bickering so much, it's fun! Plus, dude. Hyunjin. Do I need to say more? I hope you like it !❤️

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“I'm totally getting drunk tonight.” you exclaimed in annoyance, helping Felix to put some snacks on the table. “Mind telling me why?”, your friend asked grabbing some of the alcohol bottles he had in his cupboards, to place them near the snacks. “Dude, I'm studying like crazy. My life's basically books.”, you groaned, while placing down cups, “but apparently I'm not good enough to get in the top rankings. But guess who is? Hyunjin. Again!”, frustration swang in your voice, as you spoke about your long-time rival.  

“He's not even studying!”, you added, throwing your arms in the air. Felix chuckled next to you, a grin gracing his face. “You really need to let off some steam.”, he said, making you roll your eyes at him. “I don't have time for such distraction.”, you hissed and looked at the clock, pretty sure that your friends will arrive soon to your small gathering.  

“I don't even get why you're so annoyed by Hyunjin. We're in the same group of friends after all. And I honestly think you two would hit it off-”, you stopped Felix in his sentence, putting a hand on his mouth to keep it silent for a second.  

“He annoys me because he doesn't study and is still beating me in every single seminar. That's fucking unfair. Plus, he is arrogant and annoying.”, you muttered, a sigh leaving your lips as you waited for the doorbell to finally ring. If you were being totally honest, you weren't even sure why exactly Hyunjin was taking your last nerve. Maybe it was the way he always grinned at you in that stupid cheeky way whenever you had to take an exam. Or maybe how he always asked about the rankings in the group chat – even though he were perfectly aware of the fact that he was better than you. Every. Single. Time. But maybe it was how he always tried to tease you every chance he got. And maybe – just maybe, because he was ridiculously good-looking for being such a pain in the ass.

When the doorbell finally rang you rushed out of the kitchen, hearing Felix laugh behind you. The first person who greeted you was your best friend, two bottles of eggnog in her arms. “Damn, you do know what I need.”, you chuckled as you hugged her. “I always do, love.”, she winked and pecked your cheek before disappearing in the kitchen, greeting Felix. The rest of the group just walked in after her, greeting you with hugs and even more booze. Last but not least, Hyunjin entered the door and grinned at you. “Just saw the new rankings.”, he clicked his tongue, sighing at you while walking past you, “I'm still at number one.”, he whispered into your ear, before entering the kitchen as well, leaving you behind. Ass.

You felt Felix's eyes on you as soon as you entered the kitchen as he handed you a glass of eggnog. “Exactly what I need.”, you mumbled and took the cup, taking big sips, enjoying the sweet flavour on your tongue.

“I honestly thought I might fail that one sociology exam. I swear, I didn't study a bit.”, you heard Hyunjin brag to Minho but you clearly saw how he looked at you with that stupid grin on his stupidly beautiful lips. “Yeah, right.”, you snorted before rolling your eyes at him, taking another sip from your drink, trying to keep you sane. “I'm sure you'll be better than me the next time.”, he said, shrugging his shoulders before chuckling.  

“You know what's better than sex?”, your best friend whispered in your ear, making you jump slightly as you didn't even hear her appearing next to you. “Angry sex. Letting off some steam, you know.”, she added, wiggling her brows at you. You rolled your eyes as hard as humanly possible and grabbed a second cup full of eggnog after already finishing the first one.  

Your eyes wandered over to Hyunjin, who casually leaned against the wall, talking to Minho and Felix. He wore his longer blonde hair in  a loose ponytail, messy strands of hair falling down on his shoulders in soft waves. You let your gaze continue to wander over his figure, how his black leather pants hugged his figure and how his fitted shirt showed off his upper body. “I'm telling you.”, your friend whispered still right by your side, obviously following your gaze, “If I were single, you know.”, you freed your gaze from Hyunjin's figure and looked at her brown eyes, which winked at you. “God, stop it. He's arrogant and annoying.”, you sighed, before biting your tongue. You looked up for a second, just to meet Hyunjin's gaze, which nonchalantly eyed you just the way you did with him, before a mild grin appeared on his face and he looked back to his friends. Damn it.  

An hour later you were peacefully munching on some crackers your friend  handed you between your cups of eggnog. “Oh wow, I see an empty cup and that's a crime!”, you heard Felix say, dramatically putting his hand on his heart to show his shock. “I already had-”, you started your sentence, but Felix interrupted you, “Nonsense! You need more!”, and before you could protest he filled your cup and chuckled as soon as you took your first sip.

You started to feel the warmth inside of you, leaving you all fuzzy. For a moment you felt like your mind wasn't about studying and grades, which you enjoyed to the fullest. You let your eyes wander through the room, watching how your friend was nuzzled against Chan's arm, while talking to him and how Minho tried to play Jenga against Changbin but lost for the third time in a row, which let the boys around them laugh out loudly. You chuckled, watching how he pouted and said that Changbin was probably cheating or else he wouldn't be able to win. Your eyes searched for Felix and maybe even for Hyunjin - which you would obviously never admit in a sober state of mind, but you couldn't see either of them.  

As your bladder was filled with alcohol you naturally needed to go to the bathroom for a moment. Staying in front of the sink you checked your Make-Up you put on fro the night, after washing your hands. You slowly turned your face from side to side, checking if everything was still set and looking okay-ish. You left the bathroom with a small smile on your lips, heading through the floor until you suddenly had to stop in your tracks as Hyunjin nearly ran into you.  

“Oh sorry, didn't see you there.”, he said with a small chuckle. You rolled your eyes. “Yeah.”

“You look really pretty tonight.”, you heard him say and for a second you thought you lost your ability to breath. ´”What?”, you asked furrowing your brows. “I said, that you look really pretty tonight.”, he repeated calmly.  

“So I'm usually ugly?”, you snorted back at him.  

“No. You actually look pretty every day but especially tonight.”, he answered, scratching the back of his head.  

“Yeah, stop making fun of me, idiot.”, you rolled your eyes, wanting to go back to the others but your legs just didn't want to move.  

“I'm not making fun of you-”, he started.

“Seriously, shut up, Hyunjin.”, you interrupted his sentence, “Honestly, you're an arrogant and annoying ass.”, you snorted, feeling how the booze in your system made you feel way more confident than you used to be.

“What annoys you about me?”, he asked you while moving a step closer to you.

“Everything. Your teasing and always being better than me, without actually studying.”, you started but you felt how your voice got just a tad shakier when you felt him shifting in front of you.  

“Honestly, it's unfair. Would be easier you if you weren't that hot.”, you said before even realizing what words left your mouth. The alcohol in your system not even letting you feel ashamed over what you said.

Hyunjin chuckled in front of you. “Did you just call me hot?”, he asked but you shook your head.  

“Nope. That's the eggnog speaking. Not me.”, you laughed and tried to focus your eyes on anything else beside his body who was moving dangerously close to yours.

“Ah, bummer.”, he sighed in front of you, “would be great if it were you speaking.”, he added and a small smile graced his lips.  

“Why?”, you asked, your eyes finally able to actually look at his.  

“Well, because I wouldn't feel stupid for saying that I actually think you're attractive, too.”, he chuckled once more.  

“What?” you asked, completely dumbfounded, not quite sure if you're brain was even able to process this conversation.

“Jeez, I'm kinda confessing here. Would you mind meeting me halfway here?”, he sighed. At first you were annoyed but as soon as you saw his lips turn into a small smile you just blinked at him, realizing that he maybe wasn't even making fun of you at all.  

“Hyunjin.”, you said slowly, “You're annoying. And arrogant.”, you said, replying what just came out of your mouth minutes ago.  

“Yeah, you already said that. Thank you, by the way. It's not like I was complimenting you or anything.”, he responded.

“Annoying. Arrogant. Stupid.”, you whispered, while staring at Hyunjins face, your eyes wandering over every of his features. His deep brown eyes, with that small mole under his left one.

His small nose and those perfectly shaped, stupid lips on which your gaze rested for a couple seconds. You secretly wondered how they would actually feel on yours. You wanted to know how the fabric of his shirt felt under your hands and his bare skin under your fingertips. You needed to know how it felt like, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you and how it would feel to have his slender hands on your body.  

“I'm curious.”, you whispered as you moved closer to him until you could feel his breath on you cheek. Your eyes wandered back to his, which were locked on you. You felt how one of his hands cupped your cheek, his thumb softly running over your bottom lip, leaving you with goosebumps. Your breath quickened, when you let your hand rest on his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly in  his chest. You let your hand wander up over his shoulder to let it rest on his neck, until you slowly pulled him closer to you until your lips finally connected with his.

They were soft and tasted sweet like eggnog, gently moving against yours in perfect sync. Your other hand joined the one already resting on his neck, pressing him even closer to you, which made him smile softly into the kiss. Hyunjin's hands wandered down your back, until they rested on your hips. Chills went down your spine, warmth slowly spreading through your body which wasn't coming from the alcohol. It felt like you were finally doing that one thing your body and heart told you to do so many times but you never gave in - until now.

Just when you thought about how good it actually felt to kiss him, he moved his lips away from yours, his eyes looking at yours.  

“Curiosity satisfied?”, he whispered. You looked at him for a moment, letting your hands wander over the fabric of his shirt until you let them rest on his chest. Your hands shortly continued their way over his arms, until your hands were over his, which were still resting on your hips. He let you intertwine your fingers with his, leaving you in complete control over the situation. You looked over his face again, feeling an urge to just place a kiss on his skin, so you placed them on his neck for a quick second, leaving soft, quick kisses on his jawline and his cheek. “Not quite.”, you whispered back at him, before pressing your lips on his again but this time you wanted more, you needed more, completely unbothered by the fact that you were still standing in the floor of your apartment at a party.  

His lips were just as soft as before, slowly moving against yours, making you hum. You wrapped your arms around his neck again, his arms now gently around your waist, pressing you closer to his body to eliminate the air between them. You had to admit, kissing Hyunjin felt amazing. Like something you've wanted and waited for. You enjoyed how gentle he was, even when he smoothly let his tongue slip into your mouth for a moment, deepening the kiss, leaving your body with goosebumps all over again. Even now, he let you take control, kissing in your own tempo and exactly how you wanted and needed it.

He let you wander your hands over his upper body, exploring the softness of his skin. You wanted to touch every inch of his body, the urge to feel him nearly overwhelming you. Between all the teasing and glancing, all the cheeky grins and smirks you were curious. Curious how it would feel to feel that pretty mouth of his on yours.  

You enjoyed the physical sensation, how his hands gently stroke your back, until they reached for your head, holding you tightly. You were surprised about the gentleness of his hands, about the way he touched you.  

“More.”, you whispered between kisses, feeling how Hyunjin smiled against your lips. You lightly dug your fingers in his neck, connecting your lips again, feeling how his tongue entered your mouth once more. This time, you felt more pressure behind his kiss, as if he waited for you to allow him to do so. His hands slid down the sides of your torso, sending chills over yogr body, before resting on your hips. You felt how his grip tightened a little bit more and you smirked before grinding your body against his. A small gasp escaped his mouth and you wondered what other sounds you could possible coax out of it. You could feel how his kisses increased in intensity, his lips always connecting with yours, his tongue gently playing with yours. You needed to know what sinful things those lips were able to do.  

“Oh my God. Finally!”, you jumped away from Hyunjin, heart beating rapidly in your chest, as soon as you heard Felix yelling from the other side of the floor. “Jeez, this took way too long.”, he added and sighed in relief. Another head popped up next to him, belonging to your best friend, which raised a fist and smiled.  

“Dude, I said eggnogg is the solution!” you stared at the two of them while listening to some excited screams from the kitchen as soon as the others saw you, too.

“You owe me a 20, Minho!”, your best friend  screamed back at the kitchen and started to laugh. “I swear, I made like a hundred bucks tonight.”. She looked at you and Hyunjin, giving you a cheeky smile. “Anyway, we don't want to disturb you two any longer so we will be hanging out in the kitchen.”, she wiggled her brows, “with the doors closed and music playing so please, continue.”

Felix laugh halls through the floor before he turned around and closed the door  to the kitchen behind the group, leaving you alone with Hyunjin again.

“Not awkward at all.”, you whispered to Hyunjin, whose arm was around your waist. You looked at each other and immediately started laughing together at the absurdness of the whole situation.  

“I can't believe they actually made bets with money,”, he responded, placing a soft kiss on your temple. You smiled, closing your eyes for a moment.  

“So, what do you wanna do now?”, you asked him, looking at his twinkling eyes.

“Continue?”, he answered with a grin before wrapping both of his arms around you again, and placing his lips on yours once more.

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[lucefrs]

          tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.

                                                                      insp for the song she plays at the end. 

BEFORE.

luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.

she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.

she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘   my sat scores were no where near the average,    ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.

‘   god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge.   ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.

she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.

PRESENT-ISH.

luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.

SUMMER.

she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.  

INTERLUDE

she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.

i miss you.   missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼 ft? x

she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.

                                                         ***

‘   i don't know how to miss you in the right way,   ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘   it hurts.   ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.

SOMETIME, SOME DAY.

she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘    you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough.   ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.

she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 02

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Vague mentions of PTSD, spoilers for the Foyet storyline/mentioned character death. Little angsty, maybe a little OOC since Reid and Hotch don’t actually have a boss/subordinate work relationship in this story and I’m adapting that whole-heartedly. But other than that, it’s just grown men acting like dorks and Reid attempting to give parenting advice. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 4535

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link 

--

Chapter 02

--

May 2010

-

Hotch does, indeed, take Dr. Reid up on his offer.

They work on a few more cases together, over the course of six to eight weeks, and each time Dr. Reid proves to be an invaluable asset. His knowledge is unsurpassed, extensive, and astounds Hotch every time he opens a correspondence email from the esteemed professor. 

Have you ever thought about being an FBI agent? He teases one night, when they’d been sending theories back and forth in emails that had become less and less formal. Dr. Reid still sent dissertation-length assessments of the cases when they landed in his niche (which was often), but their replies had turned to a messaging template instead of the business-like format Hotch is used to writing all day every day. Quick, rapid-fire messages replacing the professional grade layout that felt so impersonal, with titles and headers and enough filler to give him chronic headaches.

This was much better. Informal as it was.

I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t pass the physical exams, but thanks for the compliment. Another life, maybe. Dr. Reid answers, and Hotch finds himself smiling and huffing a laugh behind closed lips, the kind that stays caught up in his chest. He’s not sure how much older the professor is, for all he knew he could be bordering on retirement, but it was an amusing thought nonetheless.

 I would get them waved, or curve the scores. I have that kind of pull around here. Never would he speak with his agents or anyone at the Quantico office like this, and it had taken weeks and dozens of emails to get to this point. But the freedom of it was nice, enchanting, like a little taste of his life outside of the office. Just confined to the response box of his email. Despite what everyone (ie: Morgan, Prentiss, Garcia) said about him, he did have a sense of humor. He just also had a sense of propriety, and he was their boss. He wasn’t going to make light with them in the place where they catch murderers.

Don’t tempt me. I have tenure. But Virginia gets so cold, I’d freeze to death half the year. 

Didn’t you attend MIT? What did you do during winter?

Froze to death. Pay attention.

Hotch outright laughs, and then snaps his mouth shut and looks out the open blinds of his office. Everyone has gone home, for the most part, but he doesn’t need JJ or someone else hearing him and coming to check on him. He hasn’t been getting much work done since Dr. Reid started replying to his emails that evening, and the little half smirk on his face is something he doesn’t think he can school as he rereads their conversation over and over. 

Apologies. Next I’m sure you’ll tell me how you had to walk to class uphill both ways in the snow.

No, I took the bus. And Froze. To. Death. I live in sweaters, and I’m from Las Vegas, I’m not meant for the cold. 

Las Vegas? Really?

Born and raised. My mother still lives there. 

Hotch’s eyebrows raise at that, apparently he’s not so old that his mother is still around. His own parents are gone, have been for years, but that’s under different circumstances and really not a situation he likes to reflect on.

Must be nice, only being a few hours from home. Do you go back often?

As little as possible. I should really visit my mother more, but that’s hard for reasons I won’t get into. I do write her, though. A letter every day, although not much happens around here for her to get invested in.

As in a real letter? Not an email, or a phone call?

She doesn’t do well with phone calls, or computers. Letters are more personal, anyway, and she likes being able to have the paper in her hands in my own handwriting. It’s the least I can do, not going home unless I absolutely have to. 

This is the most the man has ever spoken about himself, in a personal manner instead of an academic one, and Hotch isn’t quite sure how to take the evolution. It feels like a shift in their dynamic, an opening that could lead to a deeper level of friendship and -- it’s been a while since he’s had that. Allowed himself to have that. After Foyet, and even before when Haley started pushing for divorce and Hotch responded by isolating himself as much as he could to keep his work unaffected, he’d had trust issues. Hotch is man enough to admit that. 

But speaking with an old professor on the other side of the country might just be the stepping stone he needs. Who knows, maybe they’d even get the chance to meet one day.

I just grimaced at my own triteness. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you such a maudlin review of my life story.

No, that’s okay. I don’t talk much about myself, so I wasn’t sure how to respond. Work and home are kept very separate for me. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism, I know, but it works as best as it can.

In your line of work, I can only imagine. You do what you have to. 

Hotch pauses in their conversation, looks at the clock and the stack of paperwork he still hasn’t finished -- too busy lost in his talk with Dr. Reid -- and feels an itching in the back of his mind he wants so desperately to scratch at. To give into. Lists of things he knows he should talk about, but doesn’t trust anyone enough to do so. Hotch really isn’t sure he can even trust Dr. Reid with them.

At least, not yet.

Thank you. And thank you for entertaining me, as well. 

Anytime.

--

It’s not a month later that Hotch is sitting at his desk, after hours, once again. Head in his hands and his phone still warm, overworked from the hour-long phone call he’d just endured with his ex-sister-in-law, Jessica. 

Jack was being bullied in school. She’d had to attend the parent-teacher conference about it instead of him, because he’d been on a case in Florida for over two weeks. Which really just highlighted to Jack’s teacher what his home life is like and she expressed her worry. Adamantly. Jessica was in agreement, and she once again wanted to have the conversation on if Hotch returning to work at the BAU had been the right choice after Haley was killed. He’d taken his sabbatical for 30 days, passed his psych evals -- which didn’t mean much, he helped write the qualification questions -- and Jack was doing well with his therapist and in school.

Or so he’d thought. Until today. 

That ‘conversation’ turned into an argument, because Hotch gets defensive when someone questions his choices in regards to his family, and as much as he knows that she is right -- he feels awful about how it devolved. Jessica has gone above and beyond in taking care of Jack, to allow Hotch to return to work, and she is the last person that deserves the brunt of his frustration. He only has himself to blame, and he doesn’t know what to do. Who to turn to. Who might have answers for him, if there even was a correct answer for his situation. 

The Foyet case is classified. His assigned therapist is so easily played he hasn’t returned to her in months. 

Hotch just wants someone who won’t see through him, even when he pushes back.

He wants to talk to someone who he doesn’t want to push back against.

Who he trusts.

Dr. Reid, I need help with something no one seems to have an answer for, but it’s of a personal matter and not a professional one. Would you mind lending me your services?

Hotch sends the email before he can take it back. It’s late in Virginia, but Dr. Reid is four hours behind him in California and there’s a high chance he might still be in his office. He seems to keep longer hours, for an old professor. 

He won’t admit it to himself, but he feels a tightness in his chest as he awaits an answer. All the paperwork from the Florida case is completed, there’s nothing keeping him there at the office any longer. But it’s too late to go pick up Jack from Jessica’s, and he doesn’t think he would be welcome to come sleep on her couch like he often does on nights like this. When he wants to be there when Jack wakes up, and tonight he longs to do just that. But he isn’t sure he can even look Jessica in the eye right now.

So he sits there, and watches his computer screen, and feels himself distance from the ache in his bones. Knowing if Dr. Reid doesn’t answer him, he would have to spend however long it would take to compartmentalize his apprehension, once again, and go home to his empty house and not think about how he is failing in raising his son. In being a good father. 

The soft ping of his inbox is his single solace in the storm of his thoughts.

Agent Hotchner, You know I’m always happy to help, in any way -- personal or professional -- if I can. What is it you need an answer to?

That tightness releases, but it also gives way to the worry building up in his chest. An overwhelming, crushing amount of it that he didn’t realize was climbing higher and higher the longer he’d been left alone with his thoughts. Drowning in trepidation. Everything he doesn’t want to have pressing on his mind when they are hunting down serial killers, working with criminals that would see it as a weakness and exploit it without batting an eye. 

But this time, Hotch knows this is becoming something he shouldn’t try to hide away. 

Child psychology. Trauma, in particular, and the effects on children after the fact. 

It’s enough to describe what he needs answered, without telling too much of what happened. It’s still hard for Hotch to think about what happened, to fully realize what they had gone through. What had happened to Haley, what had happened to him. What Jack will have to grow up knowing nearly happened to him. What he almost witnessed.

(626)-595-0387 I have unlimited texting, and tend to stay up very late at night. Also, I have a feeling that you might want to keep this off government regulated emails. I’m not a practicing psychiatrist, mind you, but anything I can do to help you I will be more than happy to offer. 

Hotch is stunned. Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. He’s near speechless, staring at the phone number with a Pasadena area code, and hesitates in moving their correspondence off of the email platform. A drastic change in dynamic and expectations, but… it would be nice, to be able to message the professor whenever he wanted. The ease of access an alluring thought. 

Another soft ping in his inbox has him looking up from where he’d been glancing at his cell phone in contemplation.

Also, it goes without saying, but everything we talk about in our conversations would still be confidential. I have no one to tell them to, anyway. 

Hotch huffs out a sound that could have been a laugh, and he’s surprised he even can manage that. But he’s barely thinking about it before he’s picking up his cell phone and typing in the number Dr. Reid had given him. []6/3, 22:46[] This is Agent Hotchner.

He sends it, pauses in thought, then keeps typing.

[]6/3, 22:47[] You can call me Hotch, since this is outside work. Agent Hotchner just reminds me I’m abusing bureau resources for personal gain.

The whole interaction is causing this clawing, hot feeling in his chest that might be nervousness in risking the change in their work relationship, or residual guilt from the fight with Jessica about Jack, or just… the fear that Dr. Reid will tell him he is fucking this up and he should never have returned to the FBI at all. Because there are days, like today, where Hotch really starts to think that might be the case.

[]6/3, 22:49[] I figured as much. No one else actually messages me after 6pm except you and some of my more zealous students. 

[]6/3, 22:51[] And although I don’t think you’re abusing anything; in that same vein, you can call me Spencer. This is just two friends having a chat, nothing more. 

Hotch appreciates the gesture, finds himself almost smiling about it -- but then he remembers what he has to relay to ask what he wants to ask the other man. And he isn’t sure where to begin. 

So he just -- begins at the start. The case where Foyet fooled his whole team, posing as a victim, and managing to get away. Slipped through their fingers. Gotten away with murder and insider FBI information and more than he should have ever been able to access. Dr. Reid -- Spencer, please -- doesn’t say anything as he relates all of this, and Hotch commends his patience. Because from the start, this isn’t about child psychology at all. But it is certainly about trauma, and that becomes apparent when Hotch throws caution to the wind and describes what happened to him in his own apartment. Paraphrasing and dropping out intimate details, but explaining what happened is still brutal even stripped to its bare minimum. When Foyet had broken in, and blitzed him, and tortured him as he stabbed him nine times in the chest. Precise, practiced, indicative of letting him live with the knowledge of what that monster masquerading as a man could do. 

The details begin to bleed through the more he types. The more he remembers.

How he’d had to put his ex-wife and son into protective custody. How it hadn’t been enough. His late night obsessions all for naught. And finally, a brief -- or as brief as it can possibly be, for as brutal an event as it was -- summary of what happened when Foyet had found his family. How he had killed Haley, how they had stopped Foyet and Jack had been spared witnessing anything. Even the fight inside Hotch’s own house. He doesn’t… well, Hotch doesn’t plan on describing that and keeps it at bay. He barely remembers it. Blurs of fists and broken furniture and rooms he has memorized from years of memories flying by as they tore through his home like a hurricane. 

But he gives enough of a picture. Enough that, though he doesn’t say as much, Spencer probably knows Foyet didn’t make it out alive. Can guess it was by Hotch’s own hands. 

Which leads them to now -- to the part Hotch needed help with more than anything. His past and his trauma Hotch has a lot of practice dealing with, knows how to handle it alone. As he always has. But the part he doesn’t know how to handle?

He is raising his son on his own. His ex-sister-in-law, Jessica, has been a godsend and is helping with Jack so Hotch can be at work. His lifeblood. His identity. Everything he’s ever worked for. He almost left; Strauss had offered him an early retirement package that was too good to pass up, but he had in the end. Because being an FBI agent, catching the monsters that plague their world, that is what he does. And that’s what Jack knows him to do. 

It helps Jack, Hotch found, to know that his dad is out there catching men like the one that took away his mom. He probably would have taken the loss a lot worse, if Aaron had left the bureau. 

But he’s messing up. Hotch feels that in his bones. He’s gone so much, Jessica is taking on the role of parent instead of Aunt more and more, and Hotch does not want to turn into that father that shows up once in a blue moon and pretends he never left. He’s worried that what Jack’s teacher, and Jessica, had said is true and Jack’s home life isn’t going to be healthy for him. It’s going to make him suffer.

That what Jack has gone through, Hotch doesn’t know how to address correctly. 

It’s near a half hour later that he’s gotten the entire story out, and Hotch realizes that even though text is probably going to be easier to have a conversation like this… he probably could have written it in an email and saved them both some time. He apologizes at the error, because it’s late and his head isn’t quite screwed on straight whenever it comes to matters with his son, and he just… he’s at a loss. Doesn’t know what the right course of action is, or if there even is one outside of a professional’s opinion. 

Then Hotch waits for a reply.

It feels like hours, but in reality is only a couple of minutes. 

[]6/3, 23:22[] Hotch, the fact you are so worried about your son and how your actions have affected him through all of this, is all I really need to know about you being a good father. The consideration you are showing him is not something every parent can do, in the face of what happened to you and your family. You do not need to worry about that. You love your son, and that is the most important factor right now.

[]6/3, 23:25[] Secondly, I’m so sorry that this happened to you at all. You and your son sound like you have such a strong bond, and I know that’s what must have helped you through such a difficult time. It’s apparent that you love him very, very much. 

[]6/3, 23:29[] I don’t have a lot of friends that ask me the hard questions like this. Not that I don’t want them to, I just understand why, because I can recite statistics all day and give you textbook answers easily. Which I know you were hoping would give you a black and white response to your question. But in this there isn’t one, sadly. I know you are worried and I feel like you don’t need to be. And I don’t know how to express that in a way that won’t make you detest me. 

[]6/3, 23:32[] Your son just lost his mom, and you just lost your ex-wife, and there’s not going to be a straightforward path to healing. Everything you say you have done for him? It’s perfect, it’s exactly what you should be doing, and don’t stop. That’s all you can do and all you should focus on, in truth. Listen to what he tells you and watch for what he doesn’t, and hug him, because you are a great dad -- and this is coming from someone who did not have such an example. 

[]6/3, 23:33[] And I am very sorry about Haley, Hotch. I truly am. 

Hotch doesn’t even answer him for a good few minutes. It is a lot to process, to read through, and he does read through it more than once. But every single time he reads that final text, his eyes sting hotly and he has to blink back emotions he thought he had waded through plenty on his 30 days of leave. Apparently, not enough.

It’s so much, and yet he wants more. It’s not enough in the sense that he wishes Dr. Reid -- Spencer -- would keep talking to him. Keep telling him he’s doing a good job. That he hasn’t failed his son. 

That for once, he’s handling something right.

With a breath that feels like it shudders through his chest a little more roughly than it should, Hotch slowly types out a response that doesn’t even begin to feel anything close to adequate.

[]6/3, 23:41[] Thank you, Spencer. I could never detest you, in the slightest. Everyone keeps telling me I’m not screwing this up, but 

He pauses, not sure if he even believes what he’s about to type. 

At the last second, he switches tactics entirely. Feels a flood gate open. Just one, solitary floodgate in the vast Hoover Dam size wall he keeps up from the moment he shrugs into his suit jacket at home until he sheds it all away at the end of the night. In the confines of his home, with six physical locks on the door and two different digital security systems. With a weapon carefully concealed and childproofed in every room. With steel reinforced windows and no exit save for the front and back doors. A fire hazard, but a good precaution against anyone who would try to break in -- like Foyet had. 

[]6/3, 23:41[] ...I find it so hard to believe them. In some ways it’s hard to believe you, too, but that’s not personal. Your words have resonated more than anyone else’s, if that’s any consolation. Even more than the therapist they assigned after everything. 

[]6/3, 23:45[] My sister-in-law flat out told me I was failing my son, being away like I am, and his teacher believes his home environment isn’t healthy. He’s being bullied in school. I don’t know what to do.

Hotch types it all out and sends it. 

The reply is instantaneous.

[]6/3, 23:46[] Yes, you do. You know exactly what to do. 

And then there isn’t any further elaboration.

At first, Hotch is confused. He feels himself being pulled from that precipice of self-loathing and despair. Tugged by a string. The confusion forces him to look at Spencer’s response, nine words long, and decipher what they mean. 

Trusting his first instinct, once more.

[]6/3, 23:49[] I have to talk to Jack. 

[]6/3, 23:54[] You have heard all of this from everyone other than your son. He may be young, but he is going to know the answer better than his teacher or his aunt. Talk to him, before you start nailing yourself to a cross. You may find the answer to the situation a much easier fix than you are anticipating.

Hotch considers this, thinking about his son. Six-years-old now, first grade, smart as a tack, curious and kind. But so strong, a foundation that even he found himself clinging to sometimes, in the face of the storm of everything that had happened to them. Which is not healthy, and Hotch learned to not do that to him. To instead find solidarity in their relationship, withstanding the storm together. As they always have. 

[]6/3, 23:57[] He’s not one to let a bully have his way. He knows that’s not right. Maybe he has another strategy.

[]6/4, 00:01[] He’s young enough that trying to befriend his abuser would be a good tactic to counter the situation, does that seem like something he would do?

[]6/4, 00:02[] That sounds exactly like Jack. Hotch replies, with a smile finally easing on to his face -- and it feels lighter now. Easier to hold.

[]6/4, 00:04[] He sounds like a sweet kid.

[]6/4, 00:05[] He is. I’m very proud of him.

[]6/4, 00:07[] You really are a great dad, Hotch. I’m not just saying it to say it. 

That crushing, overwhelming feeling has ebbed to nearly nothing -- and with a sudden rush of vertigo it is replaced with gratitude for the old professor lending him his evening hours. It flashes warm and sudden and Hotch isn’t used to that, either. 

[]6/4, 00:08[] I would never expect you to, but thank you.

Even he feels lame for thanking the man for saying such a thing.

[]6/4, 00:10[] You don’t need to thank me, I barely did anything.

[]6/4, 00:11[] But if you ever need to talk, about anything really, I’d be more than happy to do so. 

[]6/4, 00:13[] I promise I can be good at that. The listening part. Day or night, it really doesn’t matter. I’ll always be around.

Hotch pauses at the offer, and then types slow and hesitant.

[]6/4, 00:16[] What if I just want to check in on a friend?

[]6/4, 00:16[] I am also around for that. 

The answer is sudden, without hesitation, and Hotch feels a smile start to ease the muscles in his face. Soften the edges once more.

[]6/4, 00:18[] I wouldn’t mind someone to talk to after a long day. It’s been a while since I’ve had a…

He pauses again, not quite sure if he remembers how to do this without pressing in too fast. Committing to too much, not sure what he is able to give of himself. But he’s already shared more with Dr. Reid in two months than he has with David in the past two years. 

Hotch makes a decision, for himself, for the first time in a long time.

[]6/4, 00:18[] ...It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend outside of the bureau. 

[]6/4, 00:19[] Do I still count if I’m a consultant?

[]6/4, 00:19[] You absolutely count. 

His own message makes him smile, and there’s a beat between messages where he hopes he made the older man smile as well. 

[]6/4, 00:22[] I’m never short on topics of conversation, I warn you. So unless you want a lecture on quantum physics -- how do you feel about chess?

[]6/4, 00:24[] I’m getting the feeling you’ll wipe the floor with me.

[]6/4, 00:25[] Oh, without a doubt. But the desktop app also has a chat feature.

[]6/4, 00:26[] Look at you, all modern and with the times.

[]6/4, 00:28[] My home phone may be a rotary, but even I can’t scoff at the vast reach of online chess. 

[]6/4, 00:28[] So what say you?

Hotch pauses, one final time, and considers the night; the conversation, Spencer’s advice, the way talking about what had happened helped ease the weight of it more than he’d ever anticipated. Then he thinks of the source, of what started it all, and how -- once again -- Dr. Reid was right about a number of things. But one thing in particular. 

[]6/4, 00:32[] I’m going to take your advice and go to my son. But tomorrow night, after he’s in bed, I have many hours to myself.

[]6/4, 00:35[] By no coincidence whatsoever, my evenings are always free. Care to show off those FBI honed deduction skills? My best chess opponents have ironically been FBI agents.

[]6/4, 00:36[] Oh, I’m terrible. Trust me.

[]6/4, 00:37[] I promise I don’t care. Your company is worth however many short games we can endure. 

Hotch smiles, despite himself, and this time doesn’t try to hold it back.

[]6/4, 00:39[] Then, it’s a date.

-

(tbc...)

-

Tagged list: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom​ @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat​​​ @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

[disastermages]

this is for @alliecatstrophe bc she’s one of my best friends and bc she loves it when lxc plays matchmaker

--

"Wangji, that wasn't what it looked like." His brother tells him, but Lan Wangji barely hears his brother over the blood rushing in his ears. His exam prep class had ended early, and Lan Wangji had walked in on Lan Xichen and Wei Ying standing together with barely an inch between them while Lan Xichen adjusted Wei Ying’s posture. 

He'd stood there and looked at the both of them dumbstruck, but Wei Ying had noticed him before his brother had, and he'd turned the full force of his smile on to Lan Wangji. He would have crumbled underneath it if Lan Xichen hadn't turned to look at him right after, smiling as though he hadn't brought the source of his younger brother's distraction into their home.

"I'm only doing it as a favor, Wangji, please," Lan Xichen pleads, following Lan Wangji up the stairs when he still doesn't turn to look at him. "Jiang Yanli told me they couldn't find anyone else to tutor him on the dizi. He really is getting much better compared to how he was when we first started."

The explanation sounds too simple to be true, but Lan Wangji knew that his brother had been tutoring someone, but he hadn't asked who, and his brother had always gone elsewhere for the lessons, often refusing dinner when he returned.

Lan Wangji had just never truly imagined that his brother had been tutoring Wei Ying of all people.

"Why did you bring him here?" Lan Wangji asks, finally turning to face his brother, though he fails to keep the petulance out of his voice. If Lan Xichen hadn't brought Wei Ying here, Lan Wangji could have remained blissfully ignorant of the fact.

Lan Xichen looks truly apologetic then, looking down at the hardwood floors, "Wei Wuxian and I usually practice at his house, but his aunt was hosting her monthly book club and asked that we practice elsewhere. If I had known that the two of you were at odds, I wouldn't have brought him here." 

A flash of guilt and something else starts in Lan Wangji's stomach and moves up to his throat as he looks away from Lan Xichen, his nails digging into the banister. "We are not at odds." He says simply, heat beginning to color the tips of his ears and Lan Wangji only hopes that his brother doesn't notice.

"You aren't?" Lan Xichen asks, and he sounds confused as he looks up at Lan Wangji again, his eyebrows knit together. Lan Wangji can feel himself backing away from his brother then, forcing himself not to reach up and try to hide the blush brightening his ears.

He could still run away, he could duck into his bedroom and lock the door behind him and refuse to answer Lan Xichen when he came knocking. 

For one, wonderful moment, his plan seems plausible, but then Lan Xichen is coming closer and Lan Zhan feels himself back away instinctively. "Is Wei Wuxian the person you were telling me about?" His brother's words are gentle, but Lan Wangji only wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

He'd managed to avoid telling Lan Xichen Wei Ying’s name when he'd finally broken down and told his brother about his crush the week before, though he'd carried it with him for months now. He'd been so careful, he'd dodged certain questions perfectly, but just by standing in his living room, Wei Ying had undone all of that in less than five whole minutes.

Daring to glance up at him, Lan Wangji can watch the information come together on Lan Xichen's face, and he takes another half step towards his room. "Wei Ying is still waiting for you downstairs," Lan Wangji says, swallowing thickly and backing away when a smile spreads across Lan Xichen's face. "It would be impolite to leave him alone for much longer."

Lan Wangji doubted that Wei Ying would think either of them rude, but it was the only excuse he could grasp at that Lan Xichen might buckle under. 

Though, when he meets his brother's eyes again, Lan Wangji can see that he isn't going to take the bait. "I'm certain Wei Wuxian would appreciate someone else's feedback for a change of pace, if you'd like to sit with us, Wangji." His brother says, all of the sympathy and guilt from earlier leaving his voice as he glances backwards, as if he expected Wei Ying to appear behind him and agree with him.

Lan Wangji looks too, before he can stop himself.

"I have homework." Lan Wangji declines. It wasn't a lie, he had a paper that was due in three weeks, starting it now would be the best thing to do. 

Whether he believes him or not, Lan Xichen doesn't argue, he only smiles before he turns and walks downstairs again.

Lan Wangji knows better than to trust the smile on his brother's face.

His weekend should have been a peaceful one, but instead it had passed with Lan Xichen offering advice that he swears is helpful one moment and teasing him the next, telling him how Wei Ying had gone off on tangents about Lan Wangji and his own musical capabilities. Lan Wangji hadn’t asked to hear a word of it, but he’d only been met with a knowing smile whenever he dared to glare up at his brother. 

It isn't fair, Lan Xichen has been in his own relationship for years now, there's nothing Lan Wangji can do to retaliate. 

Not that he would, thinking about it is different than actually doing it.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying’s voice cuts through Lan Zhan's thoughts almost as soon as he walks into the classroom, the other boy almost bouncing out of his seat by the time Lan Zhan settles in at his own desk. "You left so fast when I was at your house last week, I didn't even get to say hi!" Wei Ying scolds, but the words are lined with a teasing tone and the pout on his face is quickly replaced with a grin. 

"I did not want to intrude." Lan Wangji hears himself say, knowing that it was as close to the truth as he'd let himself get while Wei Ying was looking at him like that.

"You still could have stuck around! Your brother says I need to get used to playing in front of people anyways, you could have been my first audience." There's that smile again, Lan Wangji was sure it was supposed to show him that Wei Ying wasn't really upset with him for leaving, but all it does is make the tangled, knotted mess of words in Lan Wangji's throat worse than it already was. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn't get the chance to before their teacher is starting class and Lan Wangji feels himself swallow down the tangle of words as he turns and faces forward in his seat. 

He's grateful for the distraction, really. Wei Ying knows that he won't answer him again until class is over, though it rarely stops him from trying.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying whispers, and Lan Wangji's eyes flick upwards to the clock on the wall, there’s still another 40 minutes before he would have to answer Wei Ying. "Lan Zhan," Wei Ying tries again, and Lan Wangji glances over at him this time, "tell me what your favorite song on the flute is and I'll ask your brother to teach me how to play it on my dizi.”

Normally, that kind of offer would be something Lan Wangji would only think about when he couldn't sleep and his mind inevitably drifted to thoughts of Wei Ying, but hearing it offered to him in real life makes his mouth feel dry. "There is no need." Lan Wangji answers, breaking his own rule, but he would feel guilty enough about it later, when Wei Ying was no longer looking at him.

Wei Ying groans loudly then, almost leaning over into Lan Wangji's space before their teacher calls on him to answer a question. He doesn’t try to hear whether or not Wei Ying answers the question correctly, instead, Lan Wangji forces himself to stare straight ahead, his hand taking notes almost mechanically.

He doesn’t doubt that Lan Xichen would teach Wei Ying any song he showed an interest in learning, it’s the thought of Wei Ying learning something for him that makes the knot of words even bigger in Lan Wangji’s throat, his grip on his pen entirely too tight as he ignores the way Wei Ying keeps trying to get his attention again, refusing to look over until he gives up entirely.

His throat feels tight when he dares to look over at Wei Ying out of the corner of his eye. Long hair drapes over Wei Ying’s shoulder like a shadow, stretching out and covering his forearm as Wei Ying reaches up and pushes some of it back. If it kept getting in the way, Lan Wangji knew that he would tie it up even higher eventually, sweeping it up into a messy bun that left his neck exposed and left Lan Wangji’s mouth even drier than it already had been. 

Unless Wei Ying’s own hair tie broke again, and if it did, he would wordlessly wave his hand at Lan Wangji until he handed him one out of his bag.

He wouldn’t have an answer if Wei Ying ever asked him why he carried hair ties, his own hair was kept short, and he’d only started carrying them after he’d watched Wei Ying whine and wince at using rubber bands in his hair.

Wei Ying’s hair tie does not break during the last few moments of their class and Wei Ying does not ask Lan Wangji why he carries hair ties in his bag.

He almost thinks that he’s escaped Wei Ying’s question, but then he’s caught in the middle of the hallway, Wei Ying’s hand tight around his wrist keeping him from going any further.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying whines, pulling at his hand and pouting when Lan Wangji finally turns around to face him. “Tell me your favorite song! I wanna learn it for you!”

Lan Wangji should tell him no, he should stay firm in his decision to turn him down, but a sigh is leaving him before he can stop himself. “I will tell my brother so the correct sheet music can be found when Wei Ying is ready to learn it.” His own resolve crumbles in Lan Wangji’s hands in the face of Wei Ying’s pout, just like it has every time since simple friendship had given way to a hopeless crush. 

“Really?” Wei Ying’s face brightens and his grip on Lan Wangji’s wrist only tightens as Lan Wangji nods minutely. No one else beyond his brother should have been able to catch it, but Wei Ying does. The pout is gone within seconds, like clouds breaking up after a storm to reveal a sun shining too brightly and too warmly over Lan Wangji’s skin. 

It should have been the end of the discussion, but Wei Ying insists on walking him to his next class, and Lan Wangji is incapable of telling him not to. 

Over the next few weeks, Lan Xichen’s excuses for bringing Wei Ying into their home become flimsier and flimsier.

One week, Lan Xichen had claimed that Jiang Cheng’s lacrosse team was having a meeting at the Jiang household. “It was so loud, Wangji, Wei Ying and I couldn’t even have a conversation, let alone even think about music.” The explanation had made sense, and coming from anyone else, Lan Wangji might have believed it, but it was the smirk on his face that had given Lan Xichen away.

The week after that, his brother had only shrugged and claimed that the acoustics in their living room were better than those in the Jiang’s living room.

Lan Wangji still hasn’t forgiven him for the week he’d asked Wei Ying to stay over for dinner, though Lan Xichen had claimed that he only wanted to make up for all the times Wei Ying’s family had invited him to their table.

His brother is a traitor, but Lan Wangji is getting more and more used to that particular realization. Lan Xichen only smiled kindly in the face of every look Lan Wangji could have possibly given him. 

He doesn’t believe it when his brother calls him and tells him that he’s going to be late to Wei Ying’s lesson because his car had gotten a flat, stranding him a whole town away. Lan Xichen had sworn he would be back in time.

“There’s no point in canceling the lesson,” Lan Xichen had told him that right before he asked Lan Wangji to keep Wei Ying company while he waited. 

Now, Lan Wangji is left to sit in the living room while he waits for Wei Ying, his spine perfectly straight even though he feels like sneaking up to his room and pretending that he isn’t home when the doorbell finally rings.

Lan Wangji thinks about doing just that until he’s twisting the doorknob and opening the door, but he’s rooted to the spot by the time Wei Ying’s face lights up, his own mouth falling open just a little bit.

Wei Ying doesn’t wait to be invited in, he just slides past Lan Wangji, careful not to knock his dizi case into him before he bends down to take off his shoes. His hair is mussed from the walk over and Lan Wangji feels his hand twitch with the want to step forward and smooth it down once Wei Ying rights himself.

Lan Wangji swallows it down as he closes the door. 

“My brother will be late today.” Lan Wangji says, following Wei Ying with his eyes as he walks into the living room and then turns around to look at Lan Wangji when he finds no Lan Xichen. There was more he could say, he could give Wei Ying a better explanation, but before his mouth can speak, his body is turning towards the stairs. 

The polite thing to do would be to sit with Wei Ying until his brother arrived, and Lan Wangji desperately wants to do that as much as he desperately doesn’t want to.

Wei Ying’s hand is wrapped around his wrist again by the time he’s climbed to the third step, almost dragging Lan Wangji back down to the first floor with him. “You’re gonna leave me down here by myself, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks as he pulls on Lan Wangji’s sleeve, and for a moment, he looks genuinely worried enough that Lan Wangji climbs back down a single step. He wants to tell Wei Ying that his brother won’t be long, that he’d promised Lan Wangji that much, but the worry on Wei Ying’s face quickly shifts into something much more mischievous. “Who’s gonna keep me from finding all your embarrassing baby pictures?”

In that same breath, all of the sympathy Lan Wangji might’ve had is gone, “Uncle keeps both mine and Xichen’s photos in a locked cabinet.” Lan Wangji wouldn’t say where, that would only give Wei Ying ideas, but he doesn’t back down.

“I can pick locks, you know.” Wei Ying takes his hand away and takes his warmth with it as he rocks back on his heels.

“You cannot.” Lan Wangji hadn’t ever seen Wei Ying pick a lock, but he couldn’t outright say that Wei Ying couldn’t, he could only say that he wasn’t allowed to do it here. 

“If you leave me by myself, how are you going to make sure I don’t do anything? I bet you were a cute baby, Lan Zhan.” He knew when Wei Ying was trying to rile him up, Wei Ying didn’t even bother to hide it anymore and Lan Wangji no longer bothered with trying to act as though he were unaffected. 

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji starts, stepping down once more. He’s only standing on the bottom step now, and Wei Ying’s head is level with his chest with barely an inch between them. 

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s hands are behind his back now, but Lan Wangji knows just how quickly those hands can get into trouble.

Their staring contest lasts only a few seconds, deadlocked silence weighing between them before Lan Wangji feels himself break, sidestepping Wei Ying as he climbs off the last step, but catches his wrist at the last second and drags him back into the living room behind him. 

Wei Ying’s too loud laughter bounces between the hallway and the living room and Lan Wangji’s grip on his wrist tightens before he can stop himself, his shoulders straightening out the next moment. He would not give Wei Ying the satisfaction of knowing that he’d ruffled him with what might have been empty threats. Those threats might have been completely unfounded, and Lan Wangji wouldn’t let himself find out either way, not today.

“Wei Ying should start before brother arrives, lessons will not take so long if you warm up before.” Lan Wangji would only stand in the living room with him to make sure he did it, he would not run Wei Ying through his exercises or guide his hands the way he’d watched his brother do, Wei Ying was far past the point of that being necessary.

It didn’t matter how much he wanted to.

To his credit, Wei Ying seems to consider it, setting his dizi case down on the coffee table and coming to stand just a few inches away from Lan Wangji, a look Lan Wangji couldn’t name spreading across his face before Lan Wangji even has the chance to think he might be up to something.

“When you say it like that, Lan Zhan, it sounds like you don’t want me around.” If Wei Ying notices Lan Wangji’s eyes widening by just a fraction, he has the kindness not to call him out for it, even as he takes another step closer and Lan Wangji wishes he had more room to back away.

“Is that it? Lan Zhan? Do you not want me here?” Wei Ying sounds quieter than he’d ever bothered to be in Lan Wangji’s presence, an honest frown pulling at his lips and Lan Wangji’s heart leaps up into his throat, dislodging the knot of words.

“No,” Lan Wangji answers, he knows his voice sounds rough, but he’s helpless to stop it as the truth comes spilling out, “I do not mind Wei Ying being here.” It doesn’t sound right, it doesn’t sound like enough, and when he dares to glance up at Wei Ying, he sees that he doesn’t altogether believe him.

“It’s okay if you don’t like me being here, Lan Zhan, Xichen-ge and I can always go back to practicing at my house-”

“No.”

Having Wei Ying in his house had driven Lan Wangji to distraction, but the thought of him leaving and never coming back is far, far worse.

“I like it when Wei Ying comes over.” Too much, Lan Wangji liked it too much when Wei Ying came over, he realizes, color starting at his ears and spreading down his neck and over his cheeks quickly. His fingers twitch and ache at his side to grab onto Wei Ying’s wrist again, to try and make him understand, but Lan Wangji thinks better of it, tucking both hands just behind his back.

Silence fills the air around them like flooding water and Lan Wangji is the first to look away, his chest already aching as if he were drowning. He should have gone up to his room and let Wei Ying do whatever he liked, he should have just asked his brother to cancel the lesson, he shouldn’t have-

Wei Ying steps forward and calls his name before Lan Wangji’s mind can spiral any further, his hand is warm, too warm, as he wraps his fingers around Lan Wangji’s wrist and pulls it from behind his back.

He expects Wei Ying to tease him and laugh, but he doesn’t, instead, he asks, too softly, “Lan Zhan, are you sure?”

Lan Wangji nods with a click in his throat, still unable to look up and meet Wei Ying’s eyes, even as the hold Wei Ying has on his wrist squeezes for just a second. “Do you want me to come over more?” The question is genuine enough that it makes Lan Wangji’s heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

“Wei Ying could if he wanted.” It wasn’t like Lan Wangji hadn’t ever thought of inviting Wei Ying over before, but the words had always died on the tip of his tongue whenever he tried to give them voice.

Suddenly there’s barely a breath left between them as Wei Ying comes closer, their noses just brushing as Lan Wangji’s head snaps up. “Wei Ying would like to.” Wei Ying says slowly, the words coming out of his mouth as clunkily as Lan Wangji always feels his do, though the smile on Wei Ying’s face is different now, it’s softer, sweeter. “If that’s what Lan Zhan wants too.”

Lan Wangji’s mouth falls open just slightly and his eyes drop down to the hand that’s still holding onto his wrist, his other hand coming up to hold onto Wei Ying’s wrist gently as he nods silently. His words are sticking in his throat again, but the way Wei Ying’s smile brightens tells him that he understands.

“You’re brother’s gonna be so jealous when he realizes that I’m not coming over just for lessons anymore.” Wei Ying laughs, and Lan Wangji feels a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Brother will live.”

[featherymalignancy]

PART ONE — The Eyes of Texas: A Rowaelin Origin Story 🏐 🍺 ❤️

Long before Cash and Nesta, there was Rowan and Aelin.

Rowan Whitethorn—a Navel academy graduate and recently discharged second lieutenant from the United States Navy—takes a break from studying of the police academy exam in Los Angeles to fly back to his native Hawaii and compete in a twos volleyball tournament with his ex, one of the best sand players on the amateur circuit.

Beyond Remy’s devious machinations to win Rowan back, the biggest impediment to victory is the so-called Ashryver twins, a pair of cousins from Miami with a reputation of their own. Rowan can’t help but admire the gorgeous and sharp-tongued Aelin Galathynius, who’s more than ready to give Remy a run for her money—both on the court and in the race for Rowan’s affection.

This takes place in the same AU-verse as my Nessian story In Vino Veritas, about four years before. 

This is a two-part story, you can jump to Part Two here. ♥️ 

The Eyes of Texas, Part ONE

No matter how many times he made the journey, Rowan Whitethorn always found a wonder in returning home. He’d been glued to the window on the plane’s final descent into Maui three days ago, drinking in the sight of the Kahului Bay’s glittering waters and the distant peaks of Haleakalā rising up like silent guardians in the distance. It had only been six months since he’d last been home, but it still made his heart race; he doubted it would ever fail to take his breath away.

It had only gotten better when he’d landed and found not just Cash and Fen waiting for him, but Lorcan as well. The self-proclaimed success story of the friend group, Lor had gotten a full-ride to MIT and graduated with a 4.0 before being recruited to some tech giant in the Silicon Valley. It didn’t matter how times Rowan tried to point out that he himself had needed a recommendation from a US Senator to get into the Naval Academy; Lor would simply start rattling off college rankings and acceptance rates until Rowan conceded defeat just to shut him up. 

Even though they lived down the California coast from one another, Rowan rarely got to see Lor. So far as any of them could tell, Lorcan’s whole life was his job, and despite his obscene salary, he rarely took days off, let alone vacations. So for him to come to see Rowan play in the tournament--Ro didn’t think he needed to tell his friend what it meant to him. Not that it would have mattered if he had; the only thing Lor wasn’t good at was talking about his feelings. A likely culprit for why he didn’t have a girlfriend, considering their friend Essar had once dubbed him “the hottest man on all eight islands”. 

From the airport they’d driven across the island in Cash’s beater pick-up, Rowan in the cab and Lor and Fen riding in back. It had reminded Rowan of old times, of being 18 and carefree. It reminded him of life before his mom had died, before the Academy and his naval service, before Lyria and the cancer and all the heartache that had come after. 

Sitting in the truck, the radio blasting and Cash’ squawking tunelessly along with it, Rowan had felt more himself than he had in months. The stress of studying for the detective’s exam had been wearing on him more than he’d realized, and in that moment it had struck him how badly he’d needed this distraction. A glance at Cash had told him his friend was thinking the same thing.

Cash had been Rowan’s best friend since before he could honestly remember, and despite Lor’s obnoxious declarations to the contrary, Cash was hands-down the smartest person Rowan knew. It had come as a surprise, then, when they’d all started growing up and talking about college and Cash had shown no interest. Neither had Fen, but that Ro had expected. The free spirit of the lot, he seemed perfectly content to stay at home and work odd jobs so long as he could still surf every day. But Cash...he’d always seemed a little lost to Ro. Just a late bloomer, his mother had always insisted. Some of the best people take the longest to develop. Still, Rowan had assumed that now that they were in their mid-twenties, Cash would have figured it out. As far as he knew, though, Cash was still working at the same stuffy restaurant he’d worked at when they were teenagers, though he’d thankfully graduated from a dishwasher to a server and an occasional bartender.

 As if he’d known what Ro had been thinking, Cash turned to grin at him, a secret smile that traditionally had spelled trouble, getting grounded, and occasionally running from the police.

“I have some news,” he’d said, eyes twinkling. “Remind me to tell you later.”

Ro had meant to ask the minute they’d gotten back to the house, but suddenly there was a shot in his hand and everything else had faded away. They’d partied all night and well into the next day, a decision he’d regretted when they’d all piled onto the ferry to Waikiki for the tournament. Thankfully they’d still had half a day to recover at the hotel before the tournament began, though the trip had gotten decidedly less restful when they’d arrived to find Remy waiting for them, already pissed off. 

According to his friends, Remelle St. James was Rowan’s greatest sin. They’d dated on-and-off through high school in what Cash had generously described as a slow-burning dumpster fire, but had lost touch after Ro had left for the Naval Academy and Remy accepted a scholarship to play volleyball at UC Irvine. It was only after Lyria’s diagnosis, and—a devastatingly short six months later—her death that Rowan and Remelle reconnected. For all her other faults, Remy had also lost a sister to cancer young, and she’d been there to counsel Rowan through the worst of his grief.

 Her romantic pursuit of him the following year was admittedly less admirable, and Rowan had been quick to lessen his connection to her when it became clear what she wanted from him.  Still, that had been almost a year ago, and when she’d called to suggest he come to Hawaii and play in this invitational with her, it had been an offer he couldn’t refuse. Remy was one of the best amateur players on the circuit, having just missed the opportunity to play professionally on the AVP tour the previous year. It was why she’d called, she claimed. This tournament was a great way to get exposure, and mixed doubles was a much higher profile division than that of female twos.His friends, on the other hand, had immediately called bullshit.

“As much as I want to see you,” Fen had said when Rowan had first called with her proposal. “She’s playing you, brother. No offense, but there are tons of guys here she could recruit if she wanted. She asked you because, once again, she’s trying to dig her claws in.”

“Hate to agree,” Cash had chimed in. “But he’s totally right. She just wants in your board shorts.”

“Are you saying you don’t think I’m good enough to win?” Rowan had countered.

He could picture Cash rolling his eyes from 2,500 miles away.

“Of all the things we just said, how was that your takeaway?”“I never get to play anymore,” Rowan had admitted. “And I miss it. I think I’m just going to do it.”

“In that case, can’t wait to see you, brother.”

And that had been that. It had seemed a great idea up until he’d spotted Remy glowering at him in the lobby yesterday, and now, in the midst of the fourth set of the semifinal match, he was wondering if his friends hadn’t been right.

Game Point, he reminded himself. Just one more point and they’d be in the finals. Just one more point and he could take a blessed break from Remy and all her castigations.He stretched a hand behind him as Remy stepped back to serve, flashing two fingers to signal he would be blocking cross. He could hear her huff of disapproval even with his back to her. They’d been having problems with their coverage all game, and though Rowan could have very reasonably argued it was because of Remy’s defense, she’d blamed his position on the block.

“What’s the point of being a giant,” she’d snarled after the last point they’d lost. “If you can’t shut a hitter down at the net?”

“I’m trying to force the spot you keep saying you want,” he’d snapped back. “Maybe after this game you might want to look into a digging clinic.”

He heard the snap as the ball was served, tracking his opponents through the net as they received. It was a less than stellar pass from the guy, and though the set his teammate gave him was decent, Ro could see the swing was going to be exactly where he wanted it.

He lingered to the left until the last moment, feigning a block that would force the hit line. He struck just as the hitter began to make contact, taking a quick step to the right before exploding up. Rowan could feel in the way his muscles uncoiled that it had been a perfect jump, and he turned his face away to avoid a broken nose as his hands made contact with the ball. He could tell from the sound alone how dominating a block it had been, and he wasn’t surprised as he watched the ball fall into the sand on the opposite court, it’s angle so punishing there had been no chance for a defense.

The gathering crowd erupted in cheers, and Rowan turned to Remy in celebration, only to find her lips pursed.

“Nice block. I hope this means you’re going to actually listen to me next match.”

Too annoyed to respond to that, Rowan turned to shake hands with the opposing team before stalking past Remy to where his friends were lounging. Unsurprisingly, she was right on his heels, pushing the water bottle he’d about to take a sip from away and scowling at him.“I told you that you needed to be more aggressive on the block,” she said. “Would it honestly kill you to admit I’m right?” “Every block can’t be a roof, Rem! You need to be quicker at reading the coverage or we are going to lose in the finals.”

Remy crossed her arms. 

“You’re just mad because you don’t have the stamina to keep jumping like that.”

“Don’t start with me about stamina,” Rowan said. “For someone who is hoping to get on the tour, you’re lagging on defense.”

Rowan was unsurprised when she reached back and slapped him in the face, though the blow had admittedly come fast enough that he hadn’t had time to avoid it.

“You’re an ass,” Remy snarled, tears in her eyes.

Once, that might have been enough to get him to soften his tone. After ten years of dealing with her gaslighting, he was now sure that they were manufactured. 

“Do not do that again,” he said in a quiet voice. At this more tears welled, and she reached up to touch his face, her small palms resting on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Ro,” she said, eyes flicking briefly to his lips. “I’m just--there’s a lot riding on this for me.”

“Our next match is in twenty minutes,” Rowan said, peeling her hands off of him. “Get some water and walk it off.”

She seemed put out at the dismissal, but she must have known she had little recourse to argue after slapping him, so she simply nodded and turned away, giving his friends a hateful look for good measure before stalking off. Fen watched her go with unveiled distaste before turning to Rowan and shaking his head. 

“Dude, I know I’m gay, but I will never understand what you see in that girl. She straight sucks.”

Cash bubbled his lips in agreement.

“There’s nothing to see,” Lor said. “She’s a fucking nightmare.”

“Here, here,” Cash said, and Rowan rolled his eyes.“We’ve been playing together forever,” he protested. “And Remy knows we aren’t...seeing each other anymore.”

“Does she?” Lor drawled. “Just because you’re not banging her right now doesn’t mean she’s done with you, Whitethorn. Remelle St. James is not a girl you can just walk away from.”

“We’re twos partners, not soulmates,” Ro said. “And if playing with Remy means winning this tournament, I don’t really care what you jackasses think of it, or of her.”

“The sets cannot be worth it,” Lorcan drawled, sounding bored.

“She’s the best amateur female player in this tournament,” Rowan snapped back.

“Please,” Fen said. “She’s barely in the top five.”

“And who’s number one, then?”

Fen grinned, dark eyes fiendish.

“You haven’t heard? There’s a chick here from the University of Texas, and apparently she’s—”

“Holy shit,” Cash interrupted, eyes skating over Rowan’s shoulder. “Who is that?”

Rowan turned in time to watch the hottest woman he’d ever seen saunter towards them. She was taller than average—easily exceeding six feet—and corded with a sleek musculature that would have heralded her as a volleyball player even if they weren’t at a tournament. Her gorgeously tanned legs went on for an eternity, and he felt his mouth go dry at seeing the minuscule bikini bottoms she wore, the burnt orange Lycra hugging a toned ass that told him she probably had a damn good vertical. Her long blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail and braided in the popular style, and when she turned to smirk at him in a flash of pearly teeth and dazzling blue eyes, he felt a little weak.

“Goddamn,” Cash said, interrupting Rowan’s reverie. “She is fucking gorgeous.”

“That’s her,” Fen said. “From UT. Aelin Galathynius. Ro, I hope you and Remy can pull it together for this match. Otherwise this girl is gonna fuck you up.”

They all watched as she trotted onto the court, bending over in a stretch Rowan was afraid was going to make his board shorts too tight.

“God lord, she is perfect,” Cash said, tilting his head slightly to better admire her well-formed assets.Rowan felt a prickle of irritation at his friend's appraisal, but before he could address it, or—more realistically—dismiss it, Lor gave an unimpressed snort.

“She’s too tall.”

“I don’t understand how a guy pushing seven feet can have a maximum height restriction for the women he dates,” Fen said.

Lor only shrugged with a smirk, but Rowan was barely listening. He felt another twinge of displeasure zip down his spine as he watched a muscular blonde frat star stride onto the court towards the Galathynius girl, who beamed at seeing him.“That her boyfriend?” He asked, trying not to sound overly put-out by the idea.

 “Cousin, I think,” Lor said, expression gloriously bored. “Aedion Ashryver. I played him in a tournament in Miami last year. He’s marginally above average.”

“High praise, coming from you,” Fen said, earning only an eye roll in response.They watched as Ashryver took several exploratory swings, Aelin working out her wrists as he did. Rowan admired her flawless form as she gave her cousin a tight set and he crushed the ball into a sand on a punishing downward trajectory.

“Nice hands,” Cash said, eyes alight with appreciation as she shot Aedion a quick set to a similarly successful result.

“I can block him,” Rowan said, trying to read Aedion’s form for flaws. “He’s swinging hard, but he’s hit that same spot every time.”

“That’s not going to be enough on its own,” Lor said dryly. “Your best bet is to force Galynthius to receive first then shut her down on the block. I bet her swing is weak.”

“That opinion is completely baseless,” Cash said. “You have no idea what her swing is like.”

“I know that cocky assholes are never as good as they are obnoxious,” Lorcan retorted, gesturing to the Galythinius girl again.She’d seemed to have taken note of their attention, hands on her hips as surveyed Rowan from head to toe. Something about the way she looked at him—her tongue tucked almost suggestively into her cheek—had pleasant goosebumps breaking out on his arms.

Given her brazen assessment, Rowan felt justified in studying her as well, trying to school his expression into that of a player sizing up an opponent for weaknesses. In reality, he was just admiring her.The sports bra she wore did nothing to minimize her gorgeously firm tits, and her stomach was an alluring tapestry of muscle, the smooth bronze skin unblemished save for the corner of a tattoo which peaked out from the top of her bikini bottoms. From it’s color and shape, Rowan thought it might be a flag, though he couldn’t see enough of it to tell which country. Before he could stop himself, Rowan imagined peeling the offending garment off her and getting a better look. Rowan tried to get his mind right as Aelin Galynthius gave him a smouldering grin and turned away, but he was still so caught up in her that he flinched when he felt Remy’s fingers trailing down his back.

“You ready, babe? Let’s do this.”Rowan definitely debated telling her not to call him that, but not wanting to reignite the tension when they were so close to winning he simply nodded and headed towards the court to warm up as well. 

“Good luck, champ,” Fen said. “Make sure you find out if she’s single for Cash.”

Rowan flipped him off and jogged onto the court, trying to ignore the way Aelin Galynthius’s eyes raked him appreciatively as he passed her.

Still relatively loose from the previous match, Rowan sped through warm-ups, not wanting to give the Ashryvver cousins too much insight into his skill level. When they were done, the tournament organizer came over to congratulate the four of them on their place in the finals before briefly running through the rules.

“There will be a line judge to settle any disputes, but you’re mostly expected to police yourself. We’re all adults here, so I expect everyone to behave like it.”

At this the Ashryvver cousins exchanged a mirthful look that failed to go unnoticed by any of the assembled. Rowan could feel Remy bristling beside him. She only grew more rigid when Aelin let her dazzling blue eyes slide to Rowan and she winked. 

“It’s best of five this match, first to twenty-five, win by two, cap at 30. Switch on hard sevens. Any questions?”

“I have one,” Aedion said, a bronzed grin stretching wide enough to reveal dimples in his cheeks. “When we win, am I going to get lei-ed?”

Rowan rolled his eyes, fighting down a searing stab of annoyance. Ethnically, his family may not have been kānaka maoli, but Rowan had lived in Hawaii his entire life, and the culture was important to him. Why wasn’t he surprised that this haole douchebag had just gone for the most tired pun in existence?

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he told Ashryvver. “The losers don’t get shit.”

At this, Galathynius laughed, the sound low and musical.“I love a man who knows how to dream big.”

“Shall we?” The coordinator cut in, his gaze flitting between Aelin and Remy, who Rowan presumed was scowling.

They nodded and he flipped a coin, which Rowan called in the air.

“Heads.”The shaggy-haired coordinator extended his arm to show them the gleaming head of Sacagawea on the gold dollar coin.

“We’ll serve,” Rowan said, forcing himself to shake Aedion Ashryvver’s hand as he did.

Enough of this bullshit, he was ready to beat this punk into the dusk. He was also ready to put some distance between himself and Aelin Galathynius before her beauty robbed him of any good sense. Together or no, Remy would have his balls on the grill if he openly flirted with someone else in front of her, and it was a complication he couldn’t afford this close to victory.

It was easier said than done when Aelin slid her hand into his, squeezing in a way that felt oddly suggestive. However, it only lasted a second before she was turning on her heel and strutting to her side of the court.

“Good luck,” she said over her shoulder, brushing the long tail of her braid down her back. “You’re going to need it.”

Remy growled something that sounded suspiciously like “bitch” as she took her place behind the serving line. Rowan gave her what he hoped was an encouraging nod as he made his way towards the net, hand stretched behind him to give Remy the block signal.

Aelin Galathynius grinned at him through the net, blue eyes glittering before she slid on a pair of sunglasses.

“So,” she said as Remy continued to prepare. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

There was a pleasant cadence to her voice when she spoke, the trace of an accent he couldn’t quite place.

“Trying to get in my head?” he shot back, willing himself not to fall for her tantalizing games.

Aelin gave a sultry laugh.

“More like your pants.”

At this he heard the snap of the ball being served, and he swore as he watched it sail into the net. It wasn’t like Remy to make service errors, but the dirty look she gave him as he retreated to receive Aedion’s serve told him she considered it his fault.

“Are you done flirting,” she hissed as he passed her. “Can we focus on winning now?”

Rowan longed to snap back a retort that he hadn’t been flirting and she was the one who seemed to be lacking focus, but by this time Aedion was behind the line, preparing to serve. Rowan watched the toss and adjusted his position the minute Aedion made contact, easily receiving the ball. He called for a hit outside, but Remy’s set drew him into the interior of the court instead, almost as if she were trying to pull him away from Aelin.

Adjusting his position, Rowan swung. It was Aelin who received the dig and Rowan quickly retreated along the net, ready to stuff her on the block. He was in the perfect position to cut off the diagonal hitting lane, leaving her to either tap it over—an easy receive for him—or shoot line. Rowan thought of what Lorcan had said about her weak swing as she approached, and part of him hoped she would attempt a cross so he could show her how it was done.

He crouched, muscles burning in anticipation to spring up and stuff the ball right back in Aelin Galathynius’s smug face.

Except, he didn’t.

Aelin exploded into the air as the ball reached her, her vertical impreeven given her height. In a flick of her wrist, she’d tattooed the ball right down the undefended right line. Remy made a dive for it, but Rowan could tell from the minute Aelin had hit it that it was a point.

It was—she was—

Rowan shook his head, slightly dazed. Whatever skill Rowan had expected from her, she’d just blown right past it. She was phenomenal.And what was more, she knew it. When Rowan had finally gathered his wits enough to glance at her, it was to find her grinning back.

“Welcome to the majors, Big Boy,” she purred, and Rowan couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her or throttle her as he retreated back to his receive position.

Ashryvvers: 1 Remy & Ro: 0.

Rowan’s warring aggravation and admiration raged on all through the first set, which he and Remy lost...badly.He tried to ignore his friends’ jeers as he retreated to hydrate before the second set began, trying to analyze Aelin’s game for flaws.The problem was, there were none, at least that he could see.

“So what’s she like?” Fen asked as Rowan took another sip of gatorade. “Seems like you two were really hitting it off out there.”

“Annoying,” Ro replied. “She’s got Remy all riled up.”

Remy had refused to speak to Rowan after the set, and she was currently standing alone in the middle of the court, glaring daggers at the Ashyrvver cousins.

“Like I said,” Lor said in a dry voice. “That she-demon has plans for you. She doesn’t like that Galathynius is moving in on what she sees as her turf.”

“What are you even talking about ‘turf’?”

“I think he means your dick, man,” Cash added, grinning when Rowan turned to glower.

“I do,” Lor said. 

“I’m not sleeping with either of them,” Rowan said, trying to reassure himself. 

“Sure you aren’t,” Fen said, shooting Lorcan and Cash a conspiratorial wink. “Do you mind if I quote you on that in my best man’s speech? Aelin seems like a girl who appreciates irony.”

“You aren’t going to be his best man,” Cash said. “Obviously it’s going to be me.”

“Ro can’t choose a best man who's already slobbered over his bride,” Lor pointed out. “So it has to be me.”

“It will be none of you,” Rowan said. “Because I would never marry a girl like that.”

Cash gave a bemused laugh.“Like what, gorgeous?”

“Athletic?” Fen added.

“Sharp-tongued?”

“Talented?”

Rowan growled.

“Remind me why I bother with any of you,” he said, tossing his empty bottle to Cash before jogging on the court.

One good thing about his friends’ teasing: it had fired him up. Even with Remy obviously still mad at him, he dominated in the second set, and the third. Between both Ashryvvers’ ability to jump and play defense, he never managed a clean kill—the kind he normally wracked up by the dozens against other, lesser opponents. Still, it was enough.

Unfortunately, Aelin continued to make comments and give him sly looks even as the score turned against her, and Rowan could feel it wearing on Remy. By the fourth set, Remy was visibly flustered, the sizable lead Rowan had given them late in the game shrinking as Remy continued to make useless mistakes.Rowan fought not the swear on game point as Remy went against Aelin on the block and was smoked.

“Lucky shot,” Remy said as she was forced to shake Aelin’s hand to signal the end of the set.  Aelin flashed Remy a taunting smirk that Rowan could tell meant trouble, and he debated the merits of interfering just as Aelin said, “There was nothing lucky about that, and we both know it. Please don’t embarrass yourself.”

“You think you’re better than me?” Remy demanded.

Aelin only laughed.

“No,” she said.

 Rowan may have relaxed at hearing that, but before he could Aelin added, “I know I’m better than you.”

Remy turned, lip curling up.

“Not what the scoresheet says.”

Aelin pushed the sport sunglasses she was wearing on top of her head, presumably so Remy could see her roll those sparkling azure eyes, ringed at the iris with pure gold.

“I think we all know why the score looks like it does,” Aelin shot back, pausing to give Rowan a bone-melting smile. 

Honestly, there was so much sexual charisma in it that he had to actively fight his body’s natural reaction. His brain might not have been a fan of Aelin Galathynius, but his cock sure was.

Remy jammed her hands onto her hips, the rage in her eyes cold enough to burn as she stared Aelin down. Rowan, she ignored.

“I don’t need him,” she snapped. 

Aelin smirk went slightly wicked. 

“Good, then you won’t mind when I take him home later and give him the ride of his life. After my cousin and I bury you in this match and win the tournament, that is.”

Aelin flashed her pearly teeth in a razored smile, letting it rake over Remy before falling on Rowan. He should have been insulted by her objectification, but in reality it just turned up the tension that had been simmering between them since the match had begun.

Remy’s answering laugh was cold, and Rowan braced for impact. Despite her bravura, he doubted the Galathynius girl understood what she was starting. Remy could be downright cruel when provoked, and the gleam in her eye told him she was preparing to go from the jugular.

“As if he’d be interested in a flat-chest, loud-mouthed cunt like you.”

At this Aedion growled, the first serious emotion Rowan had seen him display all day.

“Hey,” he snapped. “Watch your mouth.”

“That’s enough, Rem,” Rowan cut in. “We didn’t come here to talk trash.”

Remy turned, sneering.

“She started it.”

“That can’t honestly be the retort you’re going with,” Aelin said, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I expected better from you, short stack.”

At 5’9, Remy was above-average height for a woman, but compared to Aelin’s towering frame she looked positively impish, a fact Rowan knew probably filled her with rage. She wasn’t used to being looked down on the court, either physically or metaphorically.

Rowan caught her around the waist a second before she lunged, causing Aelin to laugh.

“You’re a bitch,” Remy snapped.

“I’ve been called worse by better,” Aelin said, tossing the ball to Remy with no small amount of force. “Better luck next time.”

Remy let out a small grunt as the ball knocked some of the wind out of her, but she seemed determined not to give Aelin any more than that. Tossing the ball to the ground, she made a show of storming off. 

At this Aelin turned to her cousin, cocking her head back in Remy’s direction.

“Voy a destruirla.”

Aedion laughed and gave a longer response in the same language, and Rowan found his eyes trailing down to Aelin’s tattoo again. At this close distance he could clearly see the white star set into a red triangle, inverted by the position of the tattoo.

The Cuban flag.

Good god, and he thought she’d been distracting before. Knowing that she spoke Spanish…

When he glanced up it was to find Aelin grinning.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said, running the column of her braid through her fist in a way that had him inevitably imagining her wrapping her hands around something else. “They don’t make gringas this gorgeous.”

“Is this your strategy?” Rowan shot back, desperate to find his footing with her. “Work my partner into a frenzy so we’ll lose?”

Aelin laughed, though her gaze had chilled somewhat.

“I don’t need tricks to beat you, handsome. I think I’ve already proven that.”

“At yet that match is still all tied up, two sets a piece.”Aelin and Aedion exchanged a dangerous smile.

“Maybe I just wanted to prolong the match so I could spend more time with you,” she said. “Clearly I shouldn’t have bothered. Try not to be too embarrassed by what comes next, mi amor. It’s going to get ugly.”

“I can handle it,” Rowan shot back before adding, “And you.”

Far from seeming unnerved, Aelin preened a bit at that, clearly pleased by the challenge.

“Prove it, big boy,” she said, hands on her hips as she squared up to him.

He took a step in her direction, standing toe-to-toe with her now even with the net still between them. She may have been tall for a female, but at 6’6 he still had to tilt his chin down slightly to meet her eye.

 “I intend to,” he said. “Repeatedly.”

She bit her lip at this, the first blush he’d seen burnishing her beautiful bronze skin.

“Basta, Aelin,” Aedion called, cocking his head. “Dale.”

“Good luck, Hulk Smash,” Aelin told Rowan, turning on her heel towards her cousin. 

Rowan couldn't’ find the good sense to move his feet as she sauntered off to join her cousin, the two of them bantering back and forth in rapid Spanish. Cash was going to die when he found out Aelin was Cuban.

 Half-Brazilian himself Cash worshipped Latin women, and for the most part, they—like most women—worshipped him right back.

Ro tried not to let the idea of Cash and Aelin hitting it off bother him as he continued to watch the Ashryvver cousins. Perhaps Aelin would be immune to Cash’s easy charm, though Rowan had to admit it was unlikely. Unlike Rowan, who often came off dour despite his best efforts, Cash was engaging and almost impossible to dislike. More likely than not, Aelin Galathynius would take one look at that million-watt smile and enviable head of dark hair and forget she’d even met Rowan.

The thought was surprisingly irritating, and Ro forced himself to put it aside as the line judge called for the final match to begin. He glanced around in time to see Remy striding back onto the court, her expression more neutral than when she’d stormed off.

“Ready?” he asked simply.Her eyes blazed with a determination she’d lacked since the Ashryvver cousins had gotten in her head.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Let’s end this.”

Something in her bearing had changed, and Ro felt adrenaline surging through him.

This was the player who’d dominated in the matches leading up to this one; this was the teammate who was going to help him shut the Ashryvver’s down once and for all.

They lost the initial coin flip and the Ashryvvers elected to serve, Aelin blowing him a kiss as she stepped behind the line. Rowan ignored her.He had bigger fish to fry.

She had a punishing jump serve that stung Ro’s arms as he received, but he still managed a decent pass, and the set Remy gave him was damn near perfect. Aedion and Aelin shifted as the former dropped back for coverage and the latter  prepared for the block. She’d yet to stuff Rowan, but he couldn’t deny she had hops enough to cause him real problems if he wasn’t careful.Still, the set had drawn Aelin farther into the court than he could tell she liked, leaving the line undefended. Rowan intentionally approached at an angle as if he meant to swing cross before changing his body position last minute and aiming line.

Aelin jumped, but her effort was futile. Her left hand just missed the ball, which sailed down the line and struck deep.Rowan’s first kill of the entire match.He couldn’t help a glance down at Aelin as he smiled.

“Welcome to the big leagues, Galathynius.”

Aelin only rolled her eyes, but she offered no retort as she retreated to Aedion, switching to Spanish presumably to discuss strategy.

With Remy more in the game, she and Ro got out to an early lead, a fact that he could tell filled Aelin with fiery displeasure. As hard as he was swinging, Rowan had finally figured out Aedion’s swing, and though Aelin tried to move him around the court with her sets to avoid Rowan’s block, they were finding only middling success.

Rowan didn’t permit himself to think too much about it as they steadily racked up points, but when he looked up to find the score was 24 - 18, his pulse sped up. 

It was match point. 

One more point, he told himself. One more point and he and Remy would have won the whole damn thing. It was so close he could almost taste it.Still, as he watched Aelin take note of the same thing, her blue eyes flashing, he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as all that. Aedion finally managed a kill the next point, and when Aelin stepped back to serve, everything in her posture signaled danger ahead.

Rowan watched the ball spin as she tossed it in the air, timing her jump to perfection. Remy adjusted to defend the line, but the ball unexpectedly hit the top of the net instead, the force of the blow pushing the ball over onto their court. Remy dove for it but it was no use; it was in the sand even before he hit the ground.

24 - 20.

Aelin gave a self-satisfied smirk as Remy tossed the ball back to her.

“Dare you to do that again,” she snapped, and Aelin’s smile only widened.

Tossing the ball, she did just that. The ball hit the tape and fell in the same spot, proving it wasn’t a lucky shot. She’d clearly practiced utilizing the net, and now it had cost them back-to-back aces.

24 - 21.

Remy gave a small scream of frustration as she went down hard for a second time, brushing sand out of her hair and off her face as she glared at a preening Aelin. She readjusted closer to the net lest Aelin try the tricks third time, her body poised to spring. Except Aelin didn’t try it a third time. She aimed for the back corner instead, tattooing the ball into the space Remy had just abandoned.

“Goddamnit!” Remy snarled, storming towards Rowan. “Switch me.”

24 - 22.

Repositioning again, Rowan was blessedly able to receive her fourth serve, Remy’s set putting him tight on the net. He’d expected Aedion to cover him but in a flash Aelin was there instead, exploding upwards just as he made contact.He heard the snap of the ball against skin, and only had time to cast a hand out blindly as the ball came back onto his side. Unfortunately, it wasn’t high enough for Remy to get to.

Aelin beamed as Rowan turned to gawk at her. It was rare at his height and speed that he got stuffed on the block. Even Aedion, who was close to his height, hadn’t managed it.

24 - 23.

“I told you it was going to get ugly,” Aelin purred. “I don’t make idle promises.”

“You’re still behind,” Rowan said, but Aelin only smiled.

“But we have the momentum,” she said. “And chiquita looks like she’s running scared.”

A glance at Remy told Rowan Aelin was right; she looked flustered, and when she caught Rowan looking at her she scowled.

“Let’s just finish this,” she said. “Sideout. No quarter.”

If they scored now, they’d win the match. But if Aelin and Aedion got more up on them, it would force at least two more points as they had to win by two.

Aelin only chuckled at this, heading back to the serving line for a fifth time. She served a floater this time, the lack of spin on the ball sending it sailing over the net at an unpredictable angle. Remy received, and after Rowan put her slightly too close to the net, Aedion stuffed the ball back in her face.

24 - 24.

The next point Aelin won on a deep roll shot to the right corner, and suddenly it was match point in the opposite direction.

24 - 25, match point to the Ashryvvers.

 Thankfully this time, Rowan and Remy were ready. Rowan went head to head with Aedion on the block and won, earning only his third kill of the entire match.

25 - 25.

The next point was a service error from Remy after she attempted to tickle the tape the same way Aelin had, resulting in another scream of frustration.

25 - 26, match point for the Ashryvvers again.

Rowan gave Remy a set off the net and she managed to catch Aelin off-balance for a rare shank from the blonde.

 26 - 26.

Aedion shot Aelin a quick set to the middle and she had the ball in the sand before Rowan could even react.

26 - 27, match point for the Ashryvvers.Service error from Aedion after a bad toss for his jump serve.

27- 27.

Rowan wiped sweat from his eyes as he tried not to dwell on the score. With a cap at 30, there were only a possibility of four more points either way. He let out a steadying breath as he stepped up to serve. Aiming deep, he caught Aedion in an awkward position that resulted in an unredeemable pass.

28 - 27, match point for Rowan and Remy.

One more, Ro told himself. One more just like that and they would have won.He aimed for the same spot only to realize that Aedion and Aelin had switched positions, and where Aedion was powerful but cumbersome in the sand, Aelin was lightning fast. She managed the receive Aedion couldn’t, and when Aedion set her tight, she crushed the ball cross-court, right into the corner.

Remy threw up her hands, beaming.

“Out!” she said. “It’s out. That’s the match! Ro, we won!”

However, Rowan could tell in her bearing something was off, and he let his eyes flit to the line judge to investigate. The man came over just as Remy made a move to casually swipe at the sand with her toe, and he gestured to the imprint of a ball still visible in the sand.

“In,” he said, giving Remy a warning look as the Ashryvvers murmured to one another. “Point to the Ashryvvers.”

28 - 28.

Rowan tried not to tense at the realization Remy had been willing to cheat. It set his teeth on edge, and served as a reminder why he normally kept his distance from her. It was a rule he’d have to remember after today.

Aelin stepped up to serve with an unkind smile twisting at her full mouth, and tattooed the same deep corner she’d just hit. The line judge--not waiting for Remy’s assessment this time, ruled it in.

28 - 29, match point to the Ashryvvers.

Unfortunately, Aelin miscalculated as she attempted to hit the same spot with her next serve, and this time it was ruled out.

 29 - 29, the final match point.

Whoever won the next point would win the set and the match. One point to decide who would be the tournaments champs and who would be the losers.

Rowan’s could see the same thought in Aelin’s eyes as the both approached the net, Rowan’s hand stretched behind his back to signal his block to Remy. 

“So,” Aelin said as Remy went through her pre-serve ritual. “Where are you taking me to celebrate after?”

Rowan flashed her a feral grin.

“Didn’t take you for a girl who celebrates her losses.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But buy me a few congratulatory drinks when I win and maybe I’ll show you what type of girl I really am.

”Rowan heard the short whistle to signal Remy was asking for a re-toss on her serve, and he focused his attention back on Aelin momentarily.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged.

She bit her lip, eyes falling unmistakably to his cock. Her gaze was like a fist around his dick, and he had to fight back a groan.

“You know exactly what it means,” she said.

At that moment Remy served the ball, saving Rowan from his pitiful lack of retort. He forced himself to refocus as Aedion received, trying to forget the offer of casual sex Aelin had just thrown onto the table. Or perhaps she was just teasing him, trying to get under his skin so he’d forget what he was doing.Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t so easily rattled. Tracking Aedion as he received the ball and swung, Rowan forced him cross on the block. Remy returned with no issue, and Rowan’s muscles coiled in anticipation as Aelin dug the ball. Aedion set was right where Rowan now knew Aelin preferred it.

She swung hard but met his block, and just when Rowan started to think he’d won the point, she threw out a hand on blind instinct, sending the ball back up into the air on her side of the court. Instantly Aedion was there to feed her a quick set, and Aelin swung again just as hard.

Again Rowan jumped and managed to block her, and again she recovered.

Breathing hard, she approached a third time, exploding upwards at the same time Rowan did. This time, however, she pivoted mid-air, managing to avoid his outstretched hands and send the ball careening down.

Everything seemed to slow as Rowan turned to watch Remy dive for the ball, but it was too late; it had already hit the sand.

That was it; game, set, match.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the line judge made the official designation, and Aelin beamed.

“Nice game,” Rowan told her, stretching his hand out to her. “I thought I had you.”

Her smile only widened, eyes glittering as she tugged off her glasses and slid her palm into his to shake.

“Play your cards right and you still might.”

Rowan opened his mouth--though to say what, he wasn’t sure. Before he could formulate a response, he felt the brush of a hand down his back as Remy appeared at his side.

“Congratulations,” she said coolly, her arm slithering around Rowan’s waist now even as he subtly tried to peel her off. Undeterred, Remy tightened her grip as her eyes flitted to Aelin’s tattoo.

 “Not bad for a pair of--”

“I would think very carefully before you finish that sentence,” Aelin warned in a soft, dangerous tone. “And take your hands off him; he’s clearly not interested.”

Remy scowled.

“That is none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you started manhandling him in front of me. He’s too polite to embarrass you, but I’m not. Keep your hands to yourself.”

At this Remy loosened her grip a bit, even as she turned to glare up at Rowan.

“Are you serious going to let her speak to me like that?” she demanded.

“She’s not wrong,” Rowan said, wishing they could do this without an audience. “We’ve talked about this before.”

Remy only gave a cold laugh.

“Oh I see. Some slut offers to suck your dick and suddenly you have no loyalty. You’re a pig, Rowan.”

“Don’t call her a slut,” Rowan said, losing patience. “And stop acting like this is anything new between us.”

At this Aelin huffed a laugh, and Remy snarled.

“You are a miserable bitch, and you fucking deserve each other.”

At this she stormed off, and Aelin turned her bronzed grin on Rowan.

“She’s lovely,” she said. “You make a charming couple.”

“We’re not together,” he said uselessly.Their exchange just now had already made that clear.

“I know,” Aelin said, waggling her eyebrows as she gave him another suggestive up-down. “Lucky me.”

Rowan debated for half a second if he actually wanted to take this girl up on her tantalizing offer, even knowing it could never be anything more. After this weekend he would go back to Los Angeles to continue studying for the detective’s exam and she, presumably, would return to school in Texas. It wasn’t just the distance, either. Something about the idea of a one-night stand with her left him feeling a bit hollow. He’d gone through a ‘casual sex’ phase in the dreary months and years after losing Lyria, and now mindless hook-ups--even with a girl as hot as Aelin--had lost their luster. Besides, Aelin seemed like a girl who deserved better.

On the other hand, Rowan was only human, and goddamn him, there was a part of him which very much wanted to accept. Before he could stop himself, Rowan  imagined stripping off Aelin’s bikini and teasing her until she begged for his cock. As dominant as she was on the court, something wicked told him she would be submissive in bed.

However, before he could make a decision either way Aedion appeared, flashing Rowan a cocky grin as they shook hands before throwing Aelin over his shoulder and jogging towards a throng which had gathered at the center of the court. They were young--mostly likely still college students like Aelin--all of them dressed in various articles of burnt orange clothing, chanting “Ashryvver” at the top of their lungs.

Rowan could help himself as he tracked Aelin through the adoring crowd, beaming as the tournament administrator fought his way through the mass to place a beautiful fresh lei of white orchids around her neck. As when the man handed both Aelin and Aedion a crystal vase—serving in the place of a trophy, their throng of admirers burst into even louder cheers as the opening bars of All I Do is Win by DJ Khaled blared over the speakers. Rowan fended off a sensation dangerously similar to disappointment as Aelin scrambled up to sit on the shoulders of a sickeningly-handsome man with dark hair and striking blue eyes. Rowan watched as she strung a hand under the stranger’s chin to grin down at him, his smile similarly enraptured as they traded a laughed. 

Rowan forced his shoulders to drop from their rigid position. Perhaps she had just been teasing all that time. After all, she didn’t seem to remember Rowan even existed as she swayed to the music, fingers casually strung through the strangers hair to keep herself steady.

Forcing himself to look away, Rowan retreated back to where his friends waited. It was fine, he told himself. He came here to play, not get his dick wet, and he’d done that, and done it well. Now was the time for celebrating being back with his favorite people, not sulking over some girl he barely knew.

“Great game, man,” Fen said as Ro approached,accepting the Gatorade in his friend’s outstretched hand. “That was a tough break at the end.”

“No shame in that match, Ro. That girl is just unstoppable,” Cash added.

“And one good thing about you losing: I think you shook Remy for good,” Lor said. “She stormed over her to spew a bunch of bullshit about how much she hated all of us before she stormed off. Don’t think we will be seeing her again any time soon.”

“Oh amen to that, brother,” Fen said. “That’s worth losing a match any day.”

“I can’t say I was sorry to see her go,” Rowan admitted. “You were right; she had ulterior motives.”

Lorcan pretended to examine his nails in feigned indifference.

“I, for one, am shocked.”

“Speaking of ulterior motives...” Cash said, eyes trailing to where the Ashryvvers were still celebrating, Aelin perched on the mystery man’s shoulders. “Talk to me about Galathynius.”

Rowan clenched his jaw, debating the merits of making up a lie before relenting and saying simply, “she’s Cuban.”

“Oh fuck,” Fen said. “You’re in trouble now, Kahukore.”

“I knew it,” Cash said, grin wolfish. “She’s perfect.”

“Cousin’s pretty hot, too,” Fen observed, eyes tracking Aedion as he posed for photos for the tournament website. “What have you got on him?”

“He’s a douchebag,” Rowan said. “The first thing out of his mouth before the match started was a joke about getting lei-ed.”

Fen only laughed, teeth bright against his brown skin.

“Lighten up, man. If I dismiss every haole guy who makes that joke, there won’t be any dick left!”

“There’s an obvious solution here,” Lor said, cuffing Fenrys affectionately by the back of his neck. “Stop chasing after white boys.”

“No promises,” Fen said, grinning. “Let’s go get drunk.”

“Can I shower first?” Ro asked, pushing his silver hair out of his eyes. “I feel like a vagrant.”

“And you smell like one, too,” Cash said. “You’re a jackass,” Rowan said, though he couldn’t help laughing as he strung an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“You owe me fifty bucks, by the way,” Cash called to Lor. 

Lorcan rolled his eyes. 

“You said she was Puerto Rican,” Lor said. “She’s Cuban, so I don’t owe you shit.”

“At least a drink, then. Fen thought she was Swedish!

“We don’t know!” Fen said, laughing. “One of her parents could still be Swedish. We’ll have Ro ask her later. Double or nothing, Kahukore?”

Rowan’s jaw clenched, and he fought not to scowl outright. A quick glance back at the court told him that though Aelin had finally alighted from the brunette’s shoulders, they were now kicking sand at each other like children. He wondered how long it would take him to get her bright, infectious laughter out of his head.

“If you want to know, you better ask her now.”

“Wait, seriously?” Cash said. “You didn’t get her number? What is wrong with you?”

“She’s not my type.”

“What does that even mean, ‘type’?” Fen said. “I don’t like even women and she’s still my type. Don’t turn into Lor unless you’re cool with dying alone.”

Having no reasonable response to this, Rowan  just rolled his eyes.

“Rude,” Lor said, not actually sounding bothered by the comment.

“Let’s just go already,” Rowan said.The sooner he got drunk, the sooner he could forget about Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius and all the promises he’d seen in her dazzling eyes.

“Last chance,” Cash warned. “Are you sure you don’t want to ask for her number? If nothing else, she looks like she’d be willing to give you the ride of your life.”

Rowan had to admit he was tempted, especially as he remembered Aelin promising him the same thing. Still, when he watch the same dark-haired guy string an arm around her shoulders and kiss her temple, his mind was made up.

Jerking his head towards the parking lot, he permitted himself one final glance in Aelin’s direction before he turning his back to her for good.

X

Several hours hours later, Rowan found himself sitting on the beach with a beer in hand, watching the sun set over the glittering azure water. Oahu wasn’t quite home— not in the same way that Maui was—but Rowan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the islands until that moment. It was the familiar sound of the surf and the balmy air, much cleaner here than in LA. 

More than that, though, it was being here with his friends. He couldn’t remember the last time all four of them had been together, and he didn’t want to think about how long it might be before it happened again. He just wanted to enjoy the evening and...forget for a while

.“What are you thinking about?” Cash asked from beside him. “You look a million miles away.”

Not wanting the dampen the evening’s light mood, Rowan took a swig of beer and said, “

Just wondering if I should take out a bigger insurance policy on my motorcycle. Remy knows where I live, and part of me is afraid she’s already en-route to the mainland to destroy all my shit.”

At this, Lor laughed.

“Listen, you’re not wrong.”

“Just please tell me we are done with her,” Cash said. “I don’t think I have any more fake nice left in me after this weekend.”

“We’re done with her,” Rowan confirmed. “Also, she is never going to make the tour.”

“I don’t think AVP was very even on the table,” Fen said. “She just made that shit up to get your attention.”

“It might have worked, too, if Galathynius hadn’t stepped in,” Cash said, holding up his beer.

“At the very least, we’d be stuck entertaining her all weekend while she tried to slither in your pants,” Lor told Rowan. “For that, at least, I’m grateful to Galaythius.”

“Now, she will make the tour,” Cash said.

“Future Olympian, no doubt,” Fen agreed. “And Ro missed his chance to be right there with her. Instead he’ll be watching her win gold on tv and jacking off into a pool of his tears.”

“Are you done?” Rowan said, lobbing his empty can at Fen.

 “No,” Fen said. “I have enough material to last us the night, at least.”

Rowan rolled his eyes as they all labored to their feet and headed towards a rowdy pub farther down the beach. No one had to ask where they were headed; drinks at the Hideaway had always been their tradition when they came to Waikiki.

Despite the early hour, the bar was already bumping by the time they arrived, and as soon as they walked in and surveyed the scene, Cash burst out laughing. Lor, who’d followed his friend’s gaze, gave a good-natured groan.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

There, sitting on top the bar, was Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius, her usual coterie fawning around her as she tipped her head back to drain a shot of tequila. She’d traded her bikini for a pair of cut-off over-alls worn over a distractingly lacy bralette, her long blonde hair falling to her waist in two French braids.  

She still wore her lei from earlier, the white standing out brilliantly against her burnished skin.

Everyone she was with cheered as she held the glass aloft, and before Ro could think to make a quick exit and save himself the awkwardness of having to face her. Aelin’s mouth stretched into a sensuous grin as she surveyed his blue button-down and slim-fitting chinos.

“So we all agree now, right?” Cash said, giving Rowan a gentle shove. “Ro has to go over there and talk to her.”

Rowan’s stomach twisted unpleasantly as he watched Aelin lean over to whisper to the same dark-haired guy she’d been with earlier.

“Definitely,” Fen said. “It’s fate.”

“No,” Rowan said, turning towards the bar in an attempt to block Aelin out. “And I think she has a boyfriend, anyway.”

“Only one way to find out,” Cash said, grinning as he slid past Rowan. “Wish me luck, boys.”

Rowan had to actively fight a scowl.

“You’re seriously going over there?”

“Listen, brother: if you’re really not going to take your shot, then I am.”

He gave Rowan a challenging look as if daring him to call his bluff, but Rowan only shrugged.

“Go for it, man.”

Rowan told himself not to look, but curiosity got the best of him as Cash approached. Aelin watched him do so with keen interest, eyes glittering as she slid from the bar to her feet. Rowan was too far away to hear Cash’s opening line, but whatever it was, Aelin tipped her head back and laughed, her hand inadvertently falling to his arm as she did so.

“I need a fucking drink,” Rowan muttered, flagging to the bartender and gesturing for three shots of whiskey. 

Draining his, he glanced over again. Cash’s head was bent slightly as he spoke in Aelin’s ear, her smile dazzling as she listened.

Lorcan reached for his own shot, but Ro grabbed it before he could, throwing in back in a single movement before taking Fen’s as well.

“Damn boy, you’ve got it bad,” Fen observed.

“Cash better take her somewhere else to fuck,” Lor added, frowning. “She strikes me as a screamer, and I forgot my earplugs.”

“You both suck,” Rowan said, resisting the urge to look at Cash and Aelin for a third time. He already felt pathetic; he didn’t need to look it, too.

However, after a beat he couldn’t help himself, and he glanced up just in time to see Cash brush a kiss on Aelin’s cheek before retreating back towards them. 

When Aelin caught Rowan looking she crooked a finger towards him in an obvious “come hither” gesture, and Rowan felt his stomach flop pleasantly. Cash grinned as he reached their group again, jerking his head in Aelin’s direction as she crossed her legs in an expectant gesture.

“What did you do?” Rowan demanded.

“Greased the wheels for you,” Cash said, smiling. “Go get her, champ.”

At this he turned to Fen, smile widening.“And the cousin’s bi, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“Good work,” Fen said, clapping Cash on the back before turning to frown at Rowan. “What are you even still doing here? Go already, before she comes to her senses and chooses someone else!”

Flipping him a casual middle finger, Rowan smoothed back his silver hair and headed towards her, trying to seem more suave than he honestly felt. Jesus, he hadn’t been this tied in knots by a girl since he’d met Lyria as a first-year cadet. Normally the idea would pain him, but in that moment he had the oddest sensation of her standing beside him, smiling as if to say, “make me proud.”

Aelin smirked and uncoiled to her feet as he approached, grin widening as he said, “You stalking me?”

She gave a lover’s laugh, low and sensuous.

“Oh, you know how the songs goes: The Eyes of Texas are upon you, do not think you can escape them.”

He couldn’t fight his smile at this.

“I should have known,” he said.

“I’ll forgive you this once,” she said. “But you owe me. Why don’t we start with...your name? I’m Aelin, as I’m sure you already know.”

Not wanting to give her the pleasure of agreeing, he simply said, 

“Rowan.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” she said. “Took you long enough. I thought I was going to have to kiss your friend just to get your attention.”

“He would have loved that.”

Aelin laughed.

“He’s charming, but too pretty for me; I have a rule of not dating guys who have better hair than I do.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Rowan said. “It will go to his head.”

“Quite literally,” she said. “Let me introduce you around,” she said as Aedion approached.“My cousin, I think you know.”

Aedion only grinned, holding up the lei of purple orchids around his neck. “Told you I would.”

Aelin rolled her eyes as she ran a hand down the back of the dark-haired man she’s been with earlier, seeking his attention. When he turned, she gestured to Rowan.

“Galen, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is my other cousin, Galen.”

“Nice to meet you,” Galen said, his accent thicker than either Aelin or Aedion’s. 

Her cousin.

It seemed so obvious now. Though his hair and skin were darker than hers, he had her same brilliant eyes, as did Aedion. Rowan was never going to hear the end of it from his friends.

Galen gave Rowan a quick up-down before firing off in rapid, staccato Spanish, the words so fast Rowan couldn’t even pick out a single one.

Aelin only gave her cousin a good-natured eyeroll before pushing on his chest.

“Vete,” she said. “no me molestes.”

“Let me guess,” Rowan said. “He threatened to string me up if I even so much as blink wrong?

”Aelin gave a look of theatrical mock surprise.

“No way, you speak Spanish?”

“Tell him I come in peace,” Rowan said.

“He knows I can fight my own battles,” Aelin replied with a strug. “He and Aedion just like to prove their usefulness. Where were we?”

“I think you were introducing me to your court,” Rowan said, gesturing as the legion of people surrounding Aelin.

“Everyone else can wait,” Aelin said, gesturing to the bartender for drinks. “I don’t feel like sharing you quite yet.”

When two tequila shots and two beers appeared on the bar, Rowan threw down a fifty before Aelin could put it on her tab.

“Trying to butter me up?” She asked, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

“Do I need to?” He replied, accepting the shot from her.

She only smirked, grabbing his fist and running her tongue down the back of his hand before covering it with salt. He had to fend off a pleasant shudder. The gesture had shot straight to his cock.

“We’ll see,” she said, offering him a lime now, too. “Ready?”

He lifted his glass to her, but before he could lick the salt, she grabbed his wrist.

“You can’t drink without a toast, are you insane?”

“I don’t have one.”

She rolled her eyes before coaching his arm up above his head.

“Arriba,” she said before gently guiding his hand down. “Abajo. Al centro,” she prompted him to clink his glass to hers in the center. “Por dentro.”

With that she licked the salt off her hand before throwing the shot back easily and sucking on the lime. Rowan decided not to read into the suggestive look she gave him as she did so.

When they’d finished, Aelin grabbed his hand, gesturing for him to pick up his beer before she pulled him away from the bar.

“Where are we going?” He asked, hazarding a glance back at his friends to see them all watching him with knowing smirks.

“Somewhere quieter,” Aelin said, leading him up a set of rickety stairs that lead to an upper lounge.

The low couches were open to the air and overlooked the beach, and considering how things with Aelin had begun this afternoon, it felt…dangerously romantic.

You can’t fall for this girl, he reminded himself.

She didn’t live here, and neither did he. He was busy studying for the detective exam, and she was still in college, for Christ’s sake. Whatever he did, he couldn’t catch feelings for her.

However, it was an idea that felt easier said than done as Aelin yanked him down beside her on a couch, her head propped on a fist as she studied him with those mesmerizing blue eyes. She was so beautiful it was almost hard to breathe.

“So,” she said. “Start at the beginning.”

He laughed.

“The beginning of what?”

She grinned, her lips the most kissable shade of pink.

“Everything. I want to know it all.”

IF YOU LIKED THIS AND WANT MORE, CHECK OUT PART TWO, OUT NOW! 🏐 🍺 ♥️ 

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