#there's no way to sign out of anything without screwing myself and my family over in stupid ways | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

utopianvoices · 4 years ago

Text

past, present, future → b.chan

synopsis: Your best friend drags you to his high school reunion against your will, and never have you encountered such chaos. Alternatively, you go on the journey of making more friends, and a potential lover.

genre: high school acquaintances to lovers au; fluff, one second of angst

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 14.4k

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, kinda dialogue heavy (oops)

note: i am BACK with this mess of a fic. it took me too long to finish this, and i apologise for any shitty writing :3 thanks to my little babie @curanonemu for making sure i finished this and supporting me as usual muAH. new formatting on posts too weeeee (new year, new me fsdhfgs jk no)!! also, synopsis kinda sucks i’m sorry :P hope y’all enjoy! x

You did not want to go for your high school reunion dinner.

High school is a time for many that is either the best, or worst time of their lives. Forever friends are found there and painstakingly embarrassing memories are made in run down buildings with people you care about. Except, you didn’t have any such attachments.

Those three years were nothing but a filler for you as you studied, helped out in the library, and hung out with one person you called your best friend.

And on top of it all, it wasn’t even a high school reunion dinner meant for you.

The night the bomb is dropped on you, Changbin walks into the living room of the apartment you both share just outside the grounds of your university, and goes straight to the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of cereal because cooking and Changbin did not get along well. The apartment was way cheaper than the dorms your school provided, and it definitely did not have any nosy RAs who were just out there to torture students for their own viewing pleasure.

On top of all that, you could live with your best friend and not some random stranger who might very much as well be a psychotic killer. Perhaps, Changbin could have some questionable habits, like talking to himself in a baby voice while looking in the mirror, but nothing that threatened your life.

You hear Changbin’s phone ringing from the kitchen as you aimlessly flip through the shows available on Netflix, deciding which new show you should watch and commit to, when your best friend’s boisterous laughter fills your ears. Used to the noise, you roll your eyes before increasing the volume of the TV, finally deciding to rewatch Sherlock.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re about to solve the known mystery together with Benedict Cumberbatch when Changbin walks in front of the TV, automatically eliciting a whine from you as you crane your neck left and right to catch a glimpse of the screen.

“What the fuck, Bin?” You finally yell, frowning at the boy in front of you. Realising that he probably wanted something, considering the fact that he wasn’t moving till you asked him, you switch the TV off and settle back into the sofa, throwing him a death glare. “What do you want from me, pest?”

Something’s definitely amiss when you see Changbin shuffling his feet and looking at the ground, a guilty smile ever-present on his face.

“Whatever it is, my answer is no,” you say distantly, leaning back into the sofa with crossed arms. “So give it up.”

“Oh c’mon Y/n! At least hear me out?” Changbin cries out loudly, dropping onto his knees with clasped hands.

Heaving out a sigh, you slowly unfold your arms and lean forward, eyebrows raised as you nod at the poor boy in front of you. “I’ll hear you out. But don’t expect me to say yes.”

“Um...” Changbin starts, eyes darting around the room as he tries to find the right words. “So my high school friends are having a reunion dinner next week and I told them I’d go, but I also said I’d bring you along and they were too happy and so now I think you’ll have to come with me but-”

“Woah woah woah, a high school reunion party? Absolutely not.”

It’s not like you had anything against his friends. You did have brief interactions with a few of them in high school and you knew they were pretty decent lads, but there was no way you were following Changbin to what was meant to be a friends’ gathering.

“But why not!” Changbin whines, waddling over to you on his knees. “It’ll be really fun!”

“Yeah, fun for you,” you deadpan, staring at your pitiful best friend who has now resorted to throwing you puppy eyes. “They’re your friends after all, not mine.”

“That’s right. But they could be. Don’t you think it’s time you start finding more friends who are not me?”

Changbin’s once pitiful eyes held something other than desperation at that moment; they held concern.

It was true that you had no other friend other than Changbin. You knew lots of people, sure, but you wouldn’t call them your friends. With no friends to your name other than that one, it also wasn’t hard to guess that you never dated too. But all that mattered is that you were fine with it, right?

“You know that I don’t need any other friends. You’re more than enough for me. Truthfully, I don’t think I could deal with another Changbin in my life.”

Your words incite chuckles from Changbin, but that doesn’t stray him from his original goal.

“How about this,” he starts, opting to sit cross-legged on the floor because his knees were starting to hurt way too much. “You come to the reunion with me, and the moment you feel uncomfortable, we both can leave no questions asked. Deal?”

As tempting as that sounded, you knew it was not fair to cut Changbin’s precious time with his friends just because you did not want to hang out with new people. “That’s not fair to you.”

Shaking his head, Changbin stares at you, the fire in his eyes clearly visible, and you know that he had made up his mind. “I don’t care. It’s either you follow me and we can leave whenever, or I don’t go at all.”

There was no turning back now. You knew that in the end, what Changbin wants, he gets.

You sigh numbly before nodding your head in defeat, dreading the day that was to come where you had to leave the comfort of your apartment.

With no warning, you’re engulfed in a tight hug by a nuisance chanting “thank you” a million times. You ease into the hug, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a light squeeze, before pulling back to see that he had a smile similar to the one on your face.

“I guess you’re right about me needing more friends. I can’t be annoying you for the rest of my life, right?”

ii.

You’re once again reminded why you don’t go for social gatherings as you take in the various clothes strewn all over your room.

“Hey- Woah, what happened here?” Changbin asks, bewildered at the sight in front of him. “It looks like a hurricane hit your room or something.”

“Yes, it’s called Hurricane Y/n Is Screwed,” you reply sarcastically, before sinking down into your bed in defeat. Looking up at your best friend, you decide to give it a shot and put on your most pitiful face. “Do I really have to go?”

“Yes, you really have to go,” Changbin replies without sparing you another glance, as he sifts through the heap of clothes on your bed. “And get that ugly look off your face, please. It makes me want to barf.”

Flipping your best friend off, you manoeuvre yourself such that you’re facing Changbin, and look upon him in curiosity.

After what felt like forever, pieces of clothing are thrown at you, along with a reminder that you had three hours before you had to leave.

“Three?!” You screech, causing Changbin to wince and cover his ears. “You should’ve told me earlier so that I have more time!”

“What are you so loud for, you damn pterodactyl? And three hours is more than enough. We’re just going to a cheap restaurant a few blocks away because we’re all broke college students.”

Huffing at your insolent best friend, you grab the clothes he threw at you and make your way to the bathroom, not bothering to contemplate his decision because you knew he had pretty good taste in fashion. In fact, half the clothes you had in your wardrobe were bought with him as your advisor, so you’re really in no position to criticise his choices.

You stare at your reflection and let out a nervous breath; you weren’t used to meeting new people, and there was no way you were going to be able to handle a hoard of newly turned adults. The last thing you wanted was to cut Changbin’s time short with his friends, and as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you make a promise to yourself that you’ll get through the night by whatever means. Even if it meant hours of torture.

Changbin, with absolutely no urgency, is sitting on the couch watching the fourth Harry Potter movie, when you walk into the living room, makeup half done and still dressed in your stay-at-home clothes. Boys, you think.

“I think I need to know who and how many people will be there,” you finalise, watching Changbin pick up the remote and pausing the movie at exactly when Cedric dies; poor chap. “ So that I can, you know, mentally prepare myself.”

“You really don’t, but okay. There’ll be nine of us, including you. Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix from the dance team, Jeongin and Seungmin from the baseball team, Chan from the swimming team, soccer team, and honours board, and Jisung who was pretty much useless like me.”

“Wow.”

“In my defense, you’ve seen all of these dudes at least once,” Changbin says, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway, they’re all really nice and fun so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Says you,” you mutter under your breath, before returning to your room to prepare for your doom.

iii.

The sign of the restaurant flickers periodically as you stand in the middle of the street with Changbin by your side. People brush past you as they hurry to meet their friends and families in the various restaurants lining the street, excitement evident in their steps.

Taking a deep breath, you push open the door. Immediately, a gush of warm air welcomes you, causing you to let out a content sigh.

“Hey Changbin!” A loud voice calls out from behind you, and the both of you turn in your place. The sight in front of you gives you equal amounts of anxiety and fear, as you wonder how you were going to handle the table of one, two, three… seven boys, including the embarrassment standing beside you, who was now busy doing some sort of weird wave in favour of a greeting.

“Changbin, please,” you plead, burying your face in your hands as you willed for someone to transport you back to your apartment so that you didn’t have to face reality and stand next to your shameless friend.

Chuckling sheepishly, your best friend finally stops, patting your back before walking towards the table at the back of the restaurant. “Oops sorry. Let’s go meet the rest!”

Here goes nothing.

Reaching the almost-filled table, your eyes dart from face to face, trying to see if you could remember anyone currently seated in front of you.

“Guys! This is Y/n, my best friend,”—at this, a few complaints erupt from around the table—”Gosh, fine. My other best friend.”

Immediately, at least three people shout their greetings your way.

“Hi Y/n! Nice to meet you!”

“Yo~ Changbin’s told us lots about you.”

“Y/n, sit beside me!”

Exasperated, your eyes flit around the table, trying your best to smile at all of them (which honestly turns out to look more like a pained grimace). Luckily, there was one seemingly sane person present.

“Shut up, everyone.” A boy with blue hair and sharp eyes shushes everyone. “Hi Y/n, it’s nice to have you here. I’m Jeongin.”

At this, the once quiet table is back to chaos as complaints are directed towards Jeongin for sneakily introducing himself first. Taking advantage of the mess, Changbin guides you towards the empty seats and finally settles the both of you down. Now all the seats were filled, except for one empty seat left beside you.

You’re about to ask Chanbgin about the empty chair, but before you can, he claps his hands, attracting everyone’s attention. “Okay, everyone will take turns introducing themselves. Seungmin, you start.”

The sandy haired boy seated on the right of Changbin waves both his hands while bouncing in his seat, reminding you of a puppy. “I’m Seungmin!”

Next is Jeongin, who just gives you a small smile.

Beside him, you see a blonde haired boy, what is up with the hair colours, who just smiles brightly, eyes shining brightly and freckles visible. “Hello, I’m Felix. It’s great to meet you!”

Taken aback by the deep voice, which was a total contrast to his cute appearance, you’re unable to hide the shock from your face. This triggers a bout of chuckles from the table; it was probably common for people to display similar reactions when meeting Felix.

Before pretty boy (that’s what you decided to remember him as) could introduce himself, the black haired boy resembling a squirrel interrupts him. “I’m Jisung!”

You recognise him as the one who shouted when you and Changbin entered the restaurant, and you’re about to acknowledge him when you’re cut off.

“Oi Han, it was my turn to introduce myself! Who allowed you to skip the line?”

“I do what I want,” was Jisung’s response, and pretty boy looked like he was one push away from murder.

Just as you’re sure that you were about to witness a murder, Changbin chides the two boys and breaks up the petty argument. “Just introduce yourselves without any nonsense, please.”

“I’m Hyunjin,” pretty boy mutters sulkily, giving Jisung a death stare. “And I can dance better than Jisung.”

“You motherf-”

“And I’m Minho,” the last person introduces himself, successfully cutting off Jisung’s profanity mid-word. “Sorry, don’t mind those two. They’re like Tom and Jerry.”

Smiling weakly, you muster up the courage to introduce yourself to the four pairs of eyes staring at you. Hyunjin and Jisung were busy having a staredown, while Changbin was eyeing the meat sizzling on the grill. “Hi, I’m Y/n, Changbin’s friend. It’s nice to meet all of you. Thanks for having me here.”

And just like that, everyone is back to their own conversations, with Changbin piling the perfectly done meat onto his plate. You take in a deep breath and look around the table at the happy faces.

This isn’t so bad, you thought, a little chaotic, but otherwise entertaining.

“They’re overwhelming huh?”

Any effort to mask your bewilderment vanishes as you catch the knowing look on Minho’s face. A guilty smile blooms on your face and you nod your head. “Just a little.”

“I get that,” he starts, but soon enough, there’s a content smile on his face that shows his love for his friends. “But at the end of the day, I know that these monkeys will be there for me no matter what, so I guess it makes it all worth it.”

Smiling softly at his words, you almost coo at the light blush dusting Minho’s face as reality catches up to him.

“Ahem anyway. How’s living with Changbin?” He clears his throat before changing the topic, instinctively putting some meat on your plate before helping himself, earning a grateful smile from you.

“It’s not too bad,” you start, feeling Changbin’s gaze on you after having overheard Minho’s question. “Except sometimes, he talks to himself in the mirror and it’s pretty scarring.”

“Y/n!” Changbin whines as Minho guffaws beside you, nodding his head to your answer, clearly having witnessed that side of Changbin before. “Wait till Chan comes. At least he’ll support me.”

At the unfamiliar name, you furrow your brows and the name in the form of a question tumbles out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Chan?”

“He’s not here yet,” Minho addresses your confusion, having heard your little slip up. “He had to oversee the training for the upcoming soccer match, being the captain and all, and apparently he had a tutoring session after. He should be here soon though.”

That explains the empty chair beside you.

“Oh, he needs to get tutored after training?” You ask, feeling bad for the unknown boy. Having to absorb information after physical activities is torture. You couldn’t even focus after 40 minutes of gym. “That’s rough.”

At your assumption, a cat-like smirk spreads across Minho’s face. “Oh no, darling. He tutors after his training.”

There’s no way you’re to be blamed for the first thought that pops into your head after discovering that said Chan was responsible and smart. You’ve seen people struggling with just one extracurricular, and begging teachers for extra credits because of poor time management.

So, it’s really not your fault that the first words that enter your head is, that’s hot.

Just then, the bell situated above the door rings, indicating that someone was entering the restaurant. You’re not bothered by it, until Felix’s deep voice fills your ear.

“Chan!”

It’s almost comical how slowly you turn towards the sound, blush threatening to fill your cheeks at your first impression of Chan, without even meeting him. And as Giovanni Torriano has once said:

Talk of the Devil, and he's presently at your elbow.

Your eyes follow the figure of the devilishly breathtaking boy walking towards your table. He’s still dressed in what you assume was his soccer jersey, black hair tousled from the wind and practice. Shaking your head, you rid yourself of that inappropriate thought and opt to stare at the bowl of radish that looked the most interesting to you.

“Hey guys!” Chan smiles widely at the group of friends, as a few of them immediately get up from their seats to greet him with their usual bro hug. He sets his things down beside Minho, and is taking his seat when he spots you. Confusion clear in his eyes, he looks around the table, silently asking for an explanation as to what a stranger was doing at their usual table.

You realise his staring and try to introduce yourself, but you find yourself unable to form sentences as the reality of who Chan was hits you.

The star swimmer of your high school’s swimming team, and the top student of every single year. He was the epitome of popular. Everyone knew his name, and apparently he had never missed one day of lessons or training. On top of that, he used to regularly tutor in the library.

“Oh, this is my friend Y/n!” Changbin pipes up, slinging an arm around you. “Same high school as us, and my roommate now.”

At this, the confusion clouding Chan’s hazel eyes clears up, and he turns to face you, extending a hand. “The one who used to carry thick books everywhere and helped out in the library right? I’m Chan!”

Being the complete opposite of your best friend, you’re sure no one has ever noticed you in the library. You blend in perfectly with the shadows and shelves, and you didn’t usually help the students out, opting to arrange the books in the storeroom—the one small thing you could do to help out the aged librarian who brought you mouth-watering brownies every Thursday.

The thick books, in your defense, was your attempt at trying to finish the Harry Potter series whenever you had the spare time. You never had to explain yourself because you never expected anyone to notice. Especially not the most popular guy in school who had a million other friends.

But there he was, in all his glory, eyes crinkled into crescents as he waits for you to shake his hand, seemingly remembering you when nobody else did.

A small nudge to your side from Changbin breaks you out of your reverie and you grab his hand, silently noting how soft they were. “Nice to meet you.”

Smiling at you, he gently shakes your hand before turning to the other boys, immediately making jokes and laughing along.

“What was that about?” Changbin whispers harshly, eyeing you and Chan suspiciously.

“What was what?”

“Chan remembering you! You’ve never even met before.”

Looking at your best friend, you shrug before reaching out for another piece of meat. “Beats me.”

Changbin opens his mouth to interrogate you more, when he’s successfully cut off by Seungmin.

“Y/n! Tell us more about yourself! I’m bored of hearing about these idiots.”

Jeers sound from around the table as you let out a nervous chuckle, aware of how everyone’s attention was on you. “Me?” You ask, pointing to yourself for extra confirmation.

Yea!” Seungmin replies, nodding vigorously. “What are you doing now, and how was high school for you, and just everything!”

Noting your hesitation, Changbin is about to step in to save you, but your hand on his thigh stops him. Looking at you curiously, he realises from your expression that you’re finally about to do what he had been nagging at you to do since day one of becoming your friend.

iv.

‘Is it possible for a stomach to burst from too much laughing?’ is what runs through your head as tears stream down your face from laughing uncontrollably at another joke Jisung was saying.

“Wait, I remember Changbin telling me that people used to refer to you as Baby Photos when you all played at the school shows,” you ask after you had recovered from your laughing fit, curiosity piquing. “What’s that all about?”

At the mention of the familiar name, the boys let out groans and Hyunjin starts hitting Jisung. “It’s all Jisung’s fault!”

“Basically, he somehow got ahold of all our baby photos and submitted it to the administration on behalf of us,” Changbin explains, rolling his eyes at the memory. “So if you see our yearbook, all eight of us have our baby photos instead of the actual photo we were supposed to submit.”

How is that even possible?!

“We still don’t know how he managed to do that.” Chan answers your unasked question, shaking his head fondly at the ridiculous memory.

At this, Jisung pipes up. “Everything is possible when you’re charming and handsome. You lot won’t be able to relate!”

And you finally agree that the beating Jisung gets after was well deserved.

“Restaurant’s closing in ten!”

The owner of the restaurant, a nice old lady who had a soft spot for the boys, calls out from the back. She had already let all of you stay past her usually closing time, and even gave you some free side dishes, together with a loving chide about how the boys don’t come and visit her anymore.

The screech of the chairs fill the place as everyone gets up, stomach and heart full from the meal and company. You smile to yourself, glad that you let yourself be convinced to follow Changbin because you had one of the best days in your life.

“Did you have fun today?” Your best friend asks with a smug smile, already knowing the answer.

“Shut up,” is all you can say—a clear sign that you were admitting defeat. “It was okay.”

“That wounds me,” someone speaks up from behind you, having heard your conversation with Changbin. You whip around to see Chan clutching his heart and wearing an exaggerated hurt face. “I thought we had a connection.”

“I-you, no, that’s not-what” you splutter, horrified at the thought of Changbin’s, and now apparently your, friends thinking that you didn’t have a good time with them. There was no way you could let them think as such when they had made you feel so comfortable, and have so much fun.

Your stuttering and horrified expression does it, and Chan bursts into laughter. “I’m so sorry, it was a joke. But your face!”

The guilt and regret is replaced with relief and irritation, and you smack his arm out of habit, something you always did to Changbin when he was being a pain in the ass. But as soon as you do it, you’re once again filled with regret because Oh my God it’s only been two hours, you’re not supposed to just smack people.

“Stop overthinking it, idiot,” Chan cuts you off, adding in a low tier insult to make you feel a bit better about your reflexes. “We’re friends now; all of us.”

Friend to friends. Now that’s an upgrade.

You’re about to say something, when you’re cut off by Changbin screeching unceremoniously as he glances at the time displayed on his lockscreen (it’s a picture of the two of you making ugly faces—he refused to change it).

“Shit, we’re going to miss the last bus that leaves from here!” He almost shouts, grabbing his and your things. “Adios bitchachos!”

A snicker or two echoes through the empty restaurant at Changbin’s farewell, together with requests of bringing you the next time they meet.

“Make sure Y/n comes for the next dinner! Doesn’t matter if you’re here or not!”

Jisung earns himself a string of vulgarities from Changbin for that, as he guffaws and hi-fives Hyunjin.

You’re barely able to say your farewell to the boys with Changbin dragging you out of the restaurant, but you manage to shout out a few words while waving. “Thank you for today! See you soon!”

The bus arrives just as you reach the bus stop, and Changbin all but collapses on one of the empty seats from the running you both did.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“You’re foul.” You’re staring at your best friend in disgust when he starts questioning you about the dinner, nausea forgotten.

“So…” he starts, pivoting in his seat to face you, cheek leaning against his hand which rested on the seat in front of him. “For someone who was dead set on not coming, you sure looked like you had lots of fun.”

Rolling your eyes at his words, you turn to face Changbin. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Me making more friends?”

“Of course, of course~” he drawls, smirk ever-present on his face. “And who do we have to thank for that?”

“And you ask me why I don’t listen to you or ask you for favours.” Turning your attention back to your phone, you open up Temple Run in hopes of keeping yourself occupied for the bus ride back; but Changbin had other plans.

Whining, he snatches your phone from your hands and slips it into his pocket. “Y/n! Tell me everything!”

“What do you want to know?!” you ask, exasperated. “You were there literally the whole time.”

“Yes I know, but I want to know what you think of all my friends!” Changbin claps his hands in excitement, leaning forward in anticipation. “Well, our friends now.”

You can’t help but sigh as you prepare for the long bus ride ahead—but somehow, you don’t miss the sudden warmth enveloping you as you recalled the past few hours.

“First of all, Jisung and Hyunjin are hilarious, it’s like…”

Two weeks later, and you’re knee deep in shit. Not literally, of course, but you might as well be.

It’s the infamous hell month in your university, where every student (regardless of major) has a shit ton of assignments and tests to complete, and the library is open 24 hours for poor souls like yourself.

It’s two in the morning when you’re working on your second essay of the day. There are crumpled balls of paper all over your desk and surrounding your bin, courtesy of your pathetic aim.

“You’re cleaning everything up later,” Changbin speaks up from across the dining table you both were sharing to get work done, tapping away on his equipment as he works on some new beat. “I don’t expect every ball to go in, but to miss everything? That’s some serious talent.”

“Shut your mouth, Seo.” Flipping your best friend off, you finally push yourself away from the table, stretching a bit before making your way to the kitchen to fix yourself a bowl of ramen in hopes of satiating the beast growling in your stomach.

As you open each shelf, you slowly come to the realisation that you were completely out of snacks and food. Even the single frozen bag of peas and empty ice cream tub stares back at you in pity as you scan the fridge.

Taking a breath to calm yourself, you slowly turn around to face your unsuspecting, so-called, best friend. Walking towards him, you knock the table a few times to get his attention.

He notices your presence, and removes his headphones to look at you quizzically, his full attention on your blank face.

“When were you going to tell me that you had consumed every single food item we have?”

It’s almost comical how quickly the blood drains from his face, as his eyes dart all around the room, skillfully avoiding you. If it were any other situation, you would’ve definitely laughed while falling onto the floor. But this wasn’t any other situation.

This was war.

And honestly, it would have been a war that you would’ve definitely won—if not for the loud sound your stomach just produced.

Narrowing your eyes at the accused seated a few feet away from you, you walk over to the countertop with your wallet, eyes not leaving Changbin for a second.

“I will deal with you when I am back from the convenience store.”

And with the sight of Changbin gulping imprinted in your mind, you slam your apartment door behind you and make your way grumpily to the 24-hour convenience store located seven minutes away.

vi.

The electronic chime sounds throughout the store as the part-timer throws you a friendly greeting from the counter. “Welcome!”

Reciprocating with a smile of your own, you take slow steps towards the shelf with the various assorted packets of ramen, and your hand automatically reaches for your favourite one. Just as it comes into contact with the plastic, you can feel yourself salivating and your stomach growls in appreciation. It’s a myth, you think. There’s no way food like carrots and asparagus is what gets students through school. The only saving grace you have during this period is packets of ramen and chocolate milk. Countless numbers of assignments and tests are already torturous enough; healthy, tasteless food on top of that? No, thanks.

Clutching the ramen packet in your hands like it was the treasure of your life, you walk towards the milk section to complete your meal with your favourite carton of chocolate milk. There was something about the combination of milk that combats the spice from the ramen, and you’re about to drop onto your knees right there and then to worship the people who invented ramen and chocolate milk, when you see the last carton being taken away right in front of your eyes.

Without any second thoughts, you rush towards the person and grab their arm, already getting ready to pull out the sob story of how you absolutely need the chocolate milk to survive. Surprised by the sudden contact, the man holding the carton whips his head towards you, eyes wide.

There’s a fleeting sense of familiarity that passes through you when you see the hazel peeking out from above the mask that covered the rest of his face, but you’re too preoccupied to dwell on the thought. Just as you’re about to open your mouth to beg, you’re cut off by an all too familiar voice.

“Y/n?”

Huh?

You stare at each other for a few seconds before the realisation of who you were holding, no, clinging onto dawns on you.

“C-Chan?”

In a lively city that thrived at night, there were a thousand other 24-hour convenience stores scattered all around in every corner. It also wasn’t everyday that you decided to go to the convenience store for food, opting to go to the grocery stores instead. So, if you calculated correctly, the chance of you bumping into Chan at 2:30 a.m. at that very particular store should be close to never.

Yet, there he was standing right in front of you, chocolate milk clutched in one hand.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh I came here to water my plants.”

Plants?

You’re more than confused, till you hear the soft snicker that escapes his mouth. Narrowing your eyes at his antics, you decide to bite back with a “Ha ha, very funny.”

“So… Are you planning to hold onto me forever?” Chan teases you, eyes gesturing to your hand that was still clutching onto him, before looking back at you with a twinkle in his brown eyes. “Because I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

With the whole bumping-into-Chan thing that happened, it had completely slipped your mind that you were still holding onto him. You snatch your hand away in horror, eyes widening as you feel the heat creep up your neck. “S-sorry.” And before you could stop yourself, you also continue to spill why you had grabbed his arm in the first place. “I was just craving for chocolate milk, and the one you took was the last carton left.”

Looking back and forth at you and the carton, you start to feel like an absolute idiot, until he reaches out and pushes the carton into your hands. “You can have it then,” he says, and walks away. “Stay right there, let me grab some ramen and we can have supper together!”

You stare at the carton for a few seconds, the droplets of water that formed on the outside cool against your fingers. On a normal day, you would have refused the milk vehemently, telling the other person not to worry and to have the last carton. But today wasn’t any other day.

And Chan wasn’t any other person.

We’re friends, after all, is what echoes in your mind as you look up at the boy walking towards you, two packets of ramen in his hand and a carton of strawberry milk. Smiling at him, you finally express your gratitude for his kind sacrifice.

“Thanks for this,” you say, waving the carton in front of him. “I don’t think I would have made it through the night without it.”

Nodding with a smile, he tears his two packets of ramen open and pours in the hot water that was situated at the back of the store, grabbing yours from you in the process. “What brings you here at this hour? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be craving ramen and chocolate milk in the middle of the night on any other day.”

“You’re right about that,” you reply dejectedly, recalling the big pile of assignments waiting for you back at the apartment. “It’s hell month in school, and I’m drowning in work. On top of that, Changbin exhausted every single food source we have at home!”

Chan does his very best to hold back his laughter at your expression; he knew you were angry, but you looked as threatening as a kitten. And thankfully he succeeds, because he really did not want to be on the receiving end of your wrath. Although, he thinks, you really are not going to be able to do much damage.

“How dare he,” Chan agrees, finally taking a seat beside you, the steam from the ramen warming his face up. “Hey but, if he hadn’t done that we wouldn’t have bumped into each other here.”

You nod your head in agreement, thinking about how to start a casual conversation, when you are suddenly hit with the realisation that you knew essentially nothing about Chan. You didn’t know what university he went to, what he majored in, and what he was doing in the convenience store that late at night too.

One question at a time, you decide.

“What are you doing out this late anyway?” you ask, slurping the noodles and breathing out in relief at the taste of the ramen against your tongue.

“I come here often,” is what he replies, before taking a sip of his milk. “My uni’s about fifteen minutes from here, and I usually work the best at this time. Being a music production major, there aren’t very strict deadlines, but I’ve still got to get my shit done.”

Oh. That’s all your questions answered.

You know the trouble of trying to get questions out, especially for you, who has never really made the effort in going the extra mile in interacting with people. It’s annoying and nerve-wrecking, and probably the biggest reason why you refused making new friends. The whole process was just painful. So, when Chan answers your unasked questions, you feel the hypothetical weight lifting off your shoulder, and you open your mouth to express your gratitude. At least, that’s what you had planned to do.

“Are you a mind reader?” you blurt out, before immediately clamping your mouth shut and facepalming. “Ugh, sorry. I have a really bad habit of blurting out whatever comes to my mind.” You groan at your inconvenient habit, and Chan pats the top of your hand in hopes of comforting you.

“I just meant to say that I was thinking of asking you those questions and you answered them even before I asked.” Chan looks at you with a smile, intrigued by your personality. You clearly didn’t have any other friends other than Changbin—but you never looked as if you were upset about it. It was also clear that you were content with not interacting with people, but when you did, you were never rude about it and you really did try your best. Never in a million years would he have thought that the student scurrying around the library with tons of books would turn out to be someone like you.

“At least that means you’re an honest person!” Chan says, beaming at you. “C’mon, learn to look at the brighter side of things.”

Shrugging your shoulders with a tired smile on your face, you turn back to your ramen, which has now gone soggy due to your little chit-chat with the boy beside you.

There’s a comfortable silence that hangs between the two of you, until Chan speaks up again. “What’s your major? I realised I never asked.”

At the mention of school, you pull an automatic stank face before replying. “English Lit with a minor in Philosophy. The worst decision of my life.”

“And why’s that?”

“I never knew there’d be this much essay writing!” you cry out, throwing your head against the table. The rest of your words come out muffled, but somehow Chan manages to catch it. “I mean, I knew there was going to be lots of essays. But not this much.”

“In the major’s defense, that’s kind of a dumb move on your part, Y/n.”

“Yes, I know. Please don’t remind me of my idiocy.” You finally sit up, before sadly chewing on your noodles. “At least I have ramen and chocolate milk to keep me going.”

And as the night went on, both of you continued the conversation back and forth, you learning more about him and him about you. You talk about your assignments, how annoying some of your professors were, and how living with Changbin was. All the times you had to chase him to clean up after himself, or all the times he stayed up with you until ungodly hours just because you had procrastinated too much and was rushing an assignment in the last hour. You also learnt more about Chan; how he was studying music production because that was his dream since he was young, and how he actually roomed with Jisung, who was equally as messy as Changbin. The only difference was that Chan couldn’t be bothered about the mess.

“Changbin, Jisung, and I actually used to make tracks and post them on Soundcloud,” Chan says, smiling as he recalls the three high schoolers cooped up in his room with the bare minimum equipment that wiped out half their savings. “We even had rapper names.”

“Ooooo~” you tease, nudging his shoulder as his ears start to turn a bright red. “What was yours?”

“What’s in the past should stay in the past, Y/n. Let bygones be bygones. No point talking about it now.”

“Awww, c’mon!” You plead, fidgeting in your seat. “Was it something embarrassing like Cheminem, or something?”

“I can’t help but feel more relaxed when your standards are that low,” Chan says, with some form of relief in his voice. “Uh, mine was CB97.”

“Don’t tell me…” you mutter, eyes wide as the laughter threatens to escape your lips. “Did you really just use your initials and your birth year? Talk about bare minimum!”

“Hey! It’s better than Meminen, or Cheminem, or whatever you said earlier.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you decide to probe further. “What were Jisung’s and Changbin’s?”

Chan stares at you with wide eyes, your mischievous eyes giving away your evil plans. “No. Changbin will kill me.”

“Don’t be a party pooper! I’ll treat you to ramen next time if you tell me.” You try tempting Chan with food, with no hopes that it would work. But somehow, you see his resolve crumbling, and realise that you just needed one final push.

“I’ll get you chocolate milk and two packets of ramen.”

At that point, Chan regrets telling you his habit of eating two packets of ramen with chocolate milk almost every night when he stays up. “You shouldn’t have given me the milk then!” is what you said while chiding him, and he just claimed that “you looked like you needed it more than me” while saying that he really wasn’t picky about the flavour of milk.

So when you tempt him with his cravings, he has no choice but to give in.

Twenty minutes later, you walk into your shared apartment, a mysterious smile playing on your lips as you drop the keys into the little holder by the door. It was made by yours truly during a random pottery workshop you signed up for. The shape was slightly off, and the colour wasn’t bright or vibrant—but it worked and that’s what mattered.

At the sound of the keys clinking in the holder, Changbin’s head shoots up to gauge your mood from your expression. Surely you would be at least a little less angry after your little run to the convenience store, he thought.

But instead of seeing a blank expression, or even an angry one, he sees the smile on your face and his heart drops. Why were you smiling? The fact that you were smiling made him feel a hundred times worse, and he had already started saying his prayers.

“So, Changbin…” you start, leaning against one of the chairs at the dining table. You weren’t even angry about the empty shelves anymore, but you just could not pass on the opportunity of teasing your best friend. “Or should I say, SpearB?”

And you’re more than content with the way his face morphs into that of horror, as he grips the edges of the table. “How did you know?” he asks, his voice strained and barely above a whisper; one would think that the whole world had found out about his darkest secret from the way he was reacting.

Shrugging playfully, you go back to your seat and sort out the papers scattered around the table, grabbing your laptop to start working on your assignment again with a full and happy stomach. “Who knows~”

“Y/n, tell me,” he starts to whine, making his way to you on his roller chair. “No one knows other than the boys-”

And the realisation of who the culprit was hits him.

“It was Chan, right?” he asks, already reaching for his phone to scold the older boy. “You must have met him when you went to the store—he’s always getting ramen there.” Typing furiously on his phone, he pauses to look up and whine again. “I can’t believe you two gossiped about me! And it was me who made you both become friends. The disrespect!”

Finally the laughter you had been holding in breaks out and floods the living room, the sound bouncing off the walls. “I can’t believe,” you start, trying to catch your breath as you continue laughing. “SpearB! What do you do? Impale people with your sharp flow and rhyme?”

“Just shut up, please,” Changbin pleads, plugging his ears with his fingers. “La la la, I can’t hear anything you’re saying.” He rolls back to his side of the table and grabs the headphones, shoving it over his head to drown out your laughter.

Your laugh fest is cut off by your phone vibrating, signalling that you had a new text message. Grabbing it, you tap your phone a few times to open up the messages page.

chan: can’t believe you outed me to changbin chan: traitor y/n: drama queen y/n: i said nth, he figured it out on his own chan: ఠ_ಠ

Giggling at the emoticon Chan used, you unconsciously lean back in your seat as you search your gallery for an emoticon to reply with, assignments forgotten.

“Who’re you texting?” Changbin asks, having heard you giggle at your phone. He’s eyeing you suspiciously, and you knew it was better to answer him, because a curious Changbin is a dangerous Changbin, and he’ll probably stomp over and snatch your phone to see who you were texting anyway. “It’s Chan.”

“When did you two exchange numbers?!”

“Earlier, when we met at the convenience store.”

It was right before the both of you parted ways; when Chan had proposed something that was pretty much impossible to turn down.

“I had fun today,” he said, one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other swung the plastic bag containing some chocolates to add to his secret sweet stash. “You said you’re having hell month, right? Hit me up whenever you need an emergency ramen run.” And with that, he pushed his phone into your hands, signalling for you to do the same.

Smiling to yourself, you keyed in your number into the phone clutched in your hand, saving yourself as “Y/n”, and before you could regret your decision, you quickly added a smiley after your name and tossed the phone back to Chan. “Here you go.”

The cool metal is being pressed into your hands, and before you know it, you’ve said your farewell to Chan and were on your way back home.

“Look at you socialising out of your own will,” Changbin states proudly, wiping an imaginary tear as he gives you a fatherly (or what he thinks is fatherly) smile. “Albeit, at the expense of my shame, but if it means my little Y/n making more friends then why not!”

“Please stop, you’re an embarrassment to me, yourself, and literally everyone around us,” you deadpan, clearing your side of the table up. It was time to call it a night, because God knows you’re not going to be able to do anymore work. “Besides, it’s really not that big of a deal. I doubt we’ll continue talking after tonight. It’s probably a one-off thing.”

“Hmmm I wouldn’t be too sure,” Changbin muses. “I feel like there’s something that’ll come out of this.”

vii.

Seo Changbin isn’t a lot of things.

He isn’t tidy, opting to throw his clothes all around his room instead of folding it; he isn’t patient, always screaming at you to “Hurry your ass!” when he had been waiting barely three minutes; and last but not least, he definitely isn’t punctual. “Changbin is my name, and being late is my game” is something you’ve heard way too often from him that it was a wonder you hadn’t murdered him yet.

Changbin isn’t a lot of things—but what he somehow is, is intuitive when it comes to you.

So when you find yourself back at the convenience store at 12:30 a.m., ramen and chocolate milk in front of you as you laugh over some stupid story Chan was saying, you can’t help but curse at how right your best friend was.

You were reaching the end of your hell month, which also indicated it being four weeks since you and Chan had developed the routine of pigging out at the convenience store at terrible hours.

“... and he just fell off the tree!” Chan concludes his story of how Hyunjin fell off a tree in high school, words coming out breathless due to how much the both of you were laughing. “Ah, that brings back memories.”

“I can’t believe I never talked to you guys more then,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “It would’ve been hilarious.”

“Someone was too busy with Voldemort,” Chan teases, pushing his nose down flat in what you could only describe as a Voldemort impression. Laughing, you swat his hand away while rolling your eyes at the boy you’ve grown so fond of in a span of four weeks. “Why’d you never talk to us?”

Thinking back to high school, you ask yourself. Why didn’t you ever bother talking to them?

“I guess it’s just cause I already had Changbin,” you start, pausing to think back to the past few years. “As much as I complain about him, he’s really one of the greatest best friends anyone could ask for.”

It was true; Changbin was there for you during high school like no one else had been, and for that you were eternally grateful for him.

“So you were scared to take any other chances since you already got the best?”

People always asked you why you didn’t make more friends in high school. Hell, even your mother kept asking, when other parents struggled to keep their children at home just because they were spending too much time out with friends. But the answer to that question was something you never thought about, and you can’t stop the feeling of shock spreading through your body at what the boy in front of you had just so casually uttered.

You were scared.

“I-I…” you stutter, eyes wide as you stare at the boy in front of you. Chan can’t help the worry that seeps into his face at his words, and he’s starting to wonder if he said anything wrong. “I’ve never ever thought about it. But, oh my God, that makes so much sense.”

After years of waving everyone who asked you why you never made any other friends away just because you yourself didn’t have the answer to the question, you’re hit with a huge realisation of just why you didn’t want to find more friends. And it wasn’t even you who figured it out.

This boy sitting leisurely in front of you, skin pale and soft, with messy black hair framing his face that he never bothered brushing away. This boy, who was as kind as he was hardworking, always willing to help out anyone, even with his own responsibilities. This boy who had been readily there for you at the devil hours for almost every day in the past four weeks, always checking up on you to make sure that you were surviving.

Never in a million years would you have expected someone to figure out something that was locked away so deep inside of your heart, and for it to be Chan, out of everyone. The thought makes your heart race a little, but you decide to blame it on the conversation the both of you were having. It was definitely not because of the boy seated beside you.

“Shocking, huh,” Chan starts, laughing slightly as the worry he had felt earlier replaced with something he could only describe as fondness. “It’s a pity though.”

You look at him questioningly, and what he says next makes you realise a few things that maybe you were better off not realising.

“We would’ve been much happier in high school with you there. I would’ve been much happier.”

As much as you regretted not befriending the other seven boys in high school, you were starting to regret bumping into Chan that very first night even more. If you hadn’t bumped into him, you would’ve never spent so much time with him, never realised how great of a person he was, and lastly, you would’ve never started falling for Bang Chan.

viii.

It’s like déjà vu.

With your exams and assignments completed, you find yourself watching the latest season of Haikyuu when Changbin enters the room, waltzing towards your reclined figure.

“Y/n~” Changbin starts, poking your shoulder to get your attention. “Whatever your annoying ass needs now, it’s a no,” you say without even turning to look at the boy beside you.

“Oh? Even if it was an invitation to dinner with the boys later tonight?”

And when your head whips to the side to look at your best friend, you’re so tempted to just wipe that smirk clean off his face, because the bitch knew you would have said yes.

“I fucking hate you,” is what you can mutter, before switching the television and throwing the remote to the side, choosing to ignore Changbin as you walk towards your room to pick an outfit. But you’re forced to stop in your tracks when Changbin casually utters the next few words.

“Chan’s especially excited to see you.”

You’re not sure what Changbin means by that, but there’s no denying the increase in your heart rate at the mention of the dimpled boy.

“What?” You try your best to sound as nonchalant as you could, hoping that your best friend wouldn’t pick up the slight quiver in your voice. But, of course, he wasn’t your best friend for nothing.

“I said, your little boyfriend’s excited to see you.” Changbin smirks at your expression, stretching his legs out to rest it on the coffee table in front of your sofa. “And it looks like you’re just as excited.”

Red travels up your neck and spreads across your face, as you sputter at your best friend’s preposterous words. “W-what are you- I- Huh-”

Realising that your little breakdown wasn’t helping your case at all, you take a deep breath to calm yourself, before speaking to the insolent brat in front of you. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But you like him, don’t you?”

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, and the first instinct you have is to play dumb. “O-of course I like him. He’s my friend.”

“I will pretend like I did not hear that pathetic attempt of you trying to act dumb,” Changbin states robotically, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Y/n. It’s obvious. So stop pretending and just fess up. It’ll be easier for the both of us.”

You had two choices now: Either fess up and prepare yourself for at least a thousand years of teasing, or just completely deny it till your deathbed.

Clearly, the second option was much more appealing.

“No, Changbin,” you snap with as much conviction as you could. “I do not have a crush on Chan. He’s just a really good friend.”

The knowing look on his face wavers, and you know that you’re seconds away from success. It’s not that you did not trust your best friend with the information of you having a crush on one of his friends. You just did not want to say it out loud—saying it out loud would mean that you were confirming it, and there will be no going back. And that scared you.

You were scared of liking someone who was way too perfect, and who probably would never like you back.

So the best solution was to keep your little crush hidden away in the depths of your heart, and slowly get over it as soon as you could. It was as easy as it could get.

ix.

Apparently, you realise, it wasn’t at all easy to get over a simple crush.

The smell of meat fills your nostrils as the eight boys chatter loudly over the sound of the sizzling of the food. You’re back at the same restaurant, with the same boys, except it wasn’t exactly the same as the last time.

This time, you had a raging crush on the boy who insisted on sitting beside you, leg brushing against yours every few seconds as he piles the food on your plate instead of his.

It definitely didn’t help that every time your hands brushed while reaching out for the side dishes around the table, you pulled your hand back as if you had just been burned, ears immediately heating up.

“Did you know Chan told Y/n about 3RACHA?” Changbin whines to Jisung, making him stop his actions mid-way, meat hanging from the chopsticks just a few inches away from his mouth. “All I heard the past few weeks was ‘SpearB, help me’, ‘SpearB, go there’. It was torture.”

The table goes silent at the new information Changbin had revealed, and all you can do is smile sheepishly as your friends stare at the both of you.

“These two have been meeting almost everyday the past few weeks to get ramen at weird timings, and I’m pretty sure Y/n has lots of quality dirt on us now,” Changbin says pointedly, completely ignoring the way your eyes widened because why would he just say that?

It already wasn’t easy keeping Changbin in check with his little fantasies every time you went out to meet Chan, and now it was going to be worse because you just knew that the six other boys were going to question you from their expressions.

You turn to look at Chan, expecting to see the same ‘busted’ expression on his face, but all you see is a guilty smile, before he opens his mouth to speak. “In my defense, I was bribed.”

“Yes but, you never told us your 3RACHA names even after we kept begging you for weeks,” Hyunjin speaks up, eyes wide in disbelief. “We had to bribe you with a new game for your console, but you just told Y/n after two packets of ramen and chocolate milk?”

Your heart rate picks up speed just a fraction after hearing Hyunjin’s words, and you can’t help but feel a little special that Chan was comfortable enough to tell you things he refused to tell others. There’s a small smile playing at your lips as you look at the boy beside you, who was now rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he tried his best to defend himself from the accusations that were now pouring out from all his friends.

Unbeknownst to you, your own best friend was watching the both of you since the night started, a glint in his eye as he catches the way you threw small glances at his friend, blushing every time your hands brushed or when Chan purposely picked out the meat that was grilled best to put on your plate.

He also didn’t miss the soft smile playing at Chan’s lips every time you laughed at another stupid joke Jisung cracked, head thrown back slightly as you clutched your stomach, or the way his eyes widened every time you leaned a little too close to him to reach for a side dish.

Fools, is what he thinks when he eyes his two best friends. Fools in love.

The night goes on, and it’s Changbin who proposes a game of who can finish a bottle of soju the fastest to make things more exciting. You already know how it was going to end when you see the soju bottles crowding the table, all screaming the obvious outcome of the night.

“Rule’s simple. We’ll have two people against each other, and the one that loses has to pay their opponent’s share for tonight’s dinner.”

You notice Changbin avoiding your eyes as he speaks and distributes the bottle, which could be attributed to the very scary death glare you were throwing right at him.

Here’s the thing—your alcohol tolerance was shit. And Changbin knew that, making you wonder what he had planned up his sleeve.

“Right, here’s the lineup,” he announces, making it seem as if the lot of you were in some world championship of sorts. “Hyunjin and Jisung”—there’s a loud ‘Die, bitch!’ that resounds from Jisung as they both get ready to win against each other—“Seungmin and Felix, Minho and Jeongin, and Chan and Y/n!”

You were going to kill that idiot.

Changbin starts off the game with a recap of the rules, and makes sure that everyone has their own bottle of alcohol. Disaster is the only word flashing in your mind, and you’re on the verge of ditching your friends to return to the comfort of your room.

“Jisung and Hyunjin first!” Changbin instructs, to which the two boys grab their bottles and have a stare-down with each other.

“I’m gonna win so hard, your ancestors are gonna feel it.”

“Let’s see you try, pretty boy.”

On Changbin’s cue, the two boys start gulping down the alcohol, and you visibly cringe at the ghost feeling of the taste on your tongue.

“Are you okay?” Chan whispers from beside you, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s a stupid game. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

There’s a grateful smile on your face as you shake your head, letting the boy know you were okay. “I’m fine. Just worried because my alcohol tolerance isn’t that good, and I don’t want to inconvenience all of you.”

“I promise I’ll take care of you,” Chan mutters softly, staring right into your eyes. The smile slowly drops from your face as your heartbeat echoes in your ears at his words and the way he was looking at you. You so badly wanted to look away, not being used to such eye contact, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes it almost impossible for you to tear your gaze away from his twinkling eyes.

The sound of a bottle being slammed onto the table snaps you out of your little moment with Chan, and you immediately turn away to look at what was happening at the table, taking deep, cleansing breaths to calm yourself.

On the other side of the table, you realise that Hyunjin was the one who finished his bottle first, now having the time of his life teasing Jisung, who had about one quarter of the bottle left.

All the boys, except Chan and Felix, were laughing their asses off—Felix was the only one comforting Jisung, while Chan was staring at the table, an unreadable expression on his face.

“There, there. It’s okay, Sung,” Felix coos, patting Jisung’s hair, as the latter sulks at his loss.

The next two rounds proceed quickly, with Seungmin and Jeongin emerging as the winners. Everyone stares shell shocked, as Jeongin gulps down the liquid with vigour and speed, and slams his bottle down onto the table with a grin.

“There’s no way! I can’t believe Minho lost to a baby!”

“Just because he’s the youngest doesn’t mean he’s a baby, Changbin.” Seungmin deadpans, swiftly moving the empty bottles to the side of the table. “And how come you’re not participating?”

“Someone needs to bring Y/n back,” Changbin shrugs, passing the bottles to Chan and you with a guilty smile in return to your scowl. “And I’d rather stay sober when taking care of drunk children.”

You turn to pass the bottle to Chan, quickly avoiding his gaze when he looks at you. You’re not confident in your abilities to keep the blush down if he was going to look at you the way he did before.

“Okay,” Changbin cues, making sure both of you were ready with the bottle caps off. “Ready, set… Go!”

You didn’t mind paying for Chan’s share for dinner, you really didn’t. But if there was something about you that was both your downfall and pride, it was your competitiveness. You were competitive to the point where you tended to disregard the consequences of your actions.

So, your brain doesn’t register the painful consequences of your actions as you gulp down the bottle of alcohol like your life depended on it. You weren’t the best drinker out there, but you were going to try your very damn best because it was a competition.

With no expectation of winning, you swallow the last drop of soju and slam the bottle back onto the table, when you realise that everyone was staring at the two of you with their mouths open—specifically at Chan.

Following their gaze, your eyes widen in surprise as you see the boy holding an almost half-full bottle of soju, clearly indicating that you were the winner of your little game.

It’s like a dam breaks, and suddenly everyone’s shouting at the unexpected outcome. Hyunjin and Jisung scream while looking back and forth the bottle and Chan, while Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin sit with wide eyes and open mouths, unable to process that Chan just lost to you.

On the other hand, Changbin watches Chan with a smirk, which slowly drops when he realises that Minho, who was sitting beside him, was staring at him with raised eyebrows, clearly asking the question ‘What the fuck just happened?’.

Just as he’s about to pull Changbin to the side to question him, you shoot up from your seat, stumbling around almost immediately because of the sudden bout of dizziness that hit you. You fall back onto your seat as fast you had gotten up, and Chan wraps an arm around you almost instinctively, making sure you didn’t fall off your seat.

The table is back to having their own conversations a few minutes later, as if they weren't just screaming over your victory, with Hyunjin and Jisung having a rock-paper-scissors tournament between themselves, proposed by Jisung who was still sore about losing to Hyunjin.

Alcohol clouds your mind as your head lols back and forth, with soft giggles spilling from your lips. In your drunken state, you register the arm wrapped around you, and you turn your head to look for the owner of said arm.

Chan looks at you with the fondest smile as he tries to hold back his own chuckles at how cute your giggles were, at the same time being extremely conscious of the way you fit perfectly around his arms. He thanks his lucky stars that you were drunk as he held you, assuring him that there was no way you were going to hear how fast his heart was beating.

“Oh?” you drawl, squinting at the boy beside you. “Who might you be?”

And at that very moment, Chan hopes with all his heart that there is no one else who will get to witness what he was seeing right in front of him.

There are strands of hair covering your face, cheeks red from the alcohol (and from the close proximity to him, but he doesn’t need to know that) and eyes drooping from the oncoming sleepiness. Yet, to him, you were still the most beautiful in that moment.

“I’m Chan,” he replies sweetly, hesitating for a moment before adding more to the sentence. “Your friend.”

An exaggerated gasp escapes you as your eyes widen comically. Words tumble from your mouth, with hiccups disrupting your sentences every now and then. “Chan? Bang Chan? From high school? The really, um-" hiccup "-cute boy who tutored in the library? The super popular dude? You’re my-" hiccup "friend?”

There’s a light pink flush dusting his cheeks at your words, but he laughs nonetheless while nodding, finger reaching out to tap your nose. “Yes, I am.”

Scrunching your nose at the contact, you continue giggling when the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts the little exchange you and Chan were having. Chan turns to face his friends, and immediately starts coughing when he realises that they had been watching the whole scene with amused expressions. He awkwardly retracts his arm from around your waist, only for you to get up and stumble over to where Changbin was sitting, arms reaching out towards him while making grabby hands. “Changbinnnn~”

You plop yourself onto his lap, arms encircling his neck as you pull his ear closer to your mouth. Used to your drunk antics, he concedes, knowing that he’ll end up with more damage if he didn’t listen to you when you were drunk.

When he is close enough, you cup your hands around your mouth and whisper into his ears. At least, you thought you were whispering.

“You have really cute friends, Changbin.”

The whole table erupts into cheers at your words, and you immediately cover your mouth with a horrified expression. “Did everyone hear that?”

“You weren’t very quiet, darling,” Changbin snorts, pulling you up with him as he stands. “How are all of you getting back?”

“We’re all crashing at Felix’s place,” Seungmin speaks up, tapping away on his phone. “The uber’s about to arrive… right now.”

Grabbing their things, everyone except Minho, Chan, Changbin, and you, make their way out of the restaurant, shouting out hurried farewells and promises of ‘I’ll wire the money to you when I get back!’ to Changbin.

“Okay, Minho and I will go settle the bill,” Changbin says, readjusting his grip on you. “Chan, can you look after Y/n for a bit?”

“Sure,” Chan replies, looping your arm around his neck as his snakes around your waist. “We’ll be out at the front.”

The moment Chan leaves their sight with you by his side, Minho turns to bombard Changbin with all the questions that had been bothering him the whole night.

“What was that?” Minho asks in bewilderment, pointing to the door that Chan and you had exited from. “How on earth did Chan lose that game when he’s the best drinker amongst all of us?!”

“It’s called being in love,” Changbin scoffs, shaking his head at his two friends. “Disgusting.”

The distressed look on Minho’s face dissolves, and is replaced by what one could describe as enlightenment. “No fucking way. I was wondering why he kept smiling at them like an idiot. That explains so much! Have they confessed?”

“You think?” Changbin rolls his eyes, knowing that there was no way either of you had the courage to confess first. “The only way either of them will confess is if they are drunk.”

“But Y/n is dru-” Minho starts in confusion, when he stops mid-sentence, realising what Changbin had just done. “You evil genius.”

“What can I say,” Changbin states proudly, brushing imaginary dirt off his shoulder. “I wonder what’s going on outside,” he mutters under his breath, staring at the door.

On the other side of the door, Chan finally succeeds in getting you to sit down with him on a curb, his jacket folded neatly under your bottom to make sure that you were not sitting on the hard cement. “I’m tired,” you whine, head dropping onto the warm shoulder beside you.

Chan tenses up at the sudden contact, staring at the top of your head, when you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder. At the feeling of your cheek against his shoulder, he relaxes, and positions himself such that you didn’t have to strain your neck.

There’s a comfortable silence between the both of you, until you decide to break it by asking Chan a very obvious question.

“We’re close friends right?”

You lift your head from Chan’s shoulder, almost whining out loud at the loss of comfort, but you decide that asking him that question was more important. Clearly, drunk you had very different priorities.

Chan just nods and replies with a soft “Of course”, wondering why you were suddenly asking that question. “Why?”

“Since we’re close friends, can I tell you a secret?” The last few words are spoken in a hushed whisper, as you reach out and grasp Chan’s soft and warm hands. His larger hands clasps yours, as he chuckles at your question. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/n. You’re drunk, and you might regret telling me when you sober up.”

“No!” You almost shout, alarming Chan who looks around to make sure no one heard your exclamation. You continue in a softer tone, to Chan’s relief. “You’re my close friend! So I won’t regret it.”

And the wide smile you show Chan almost makes him want to kiss you right there and then. Almost.

“Alright then,” Chan agrees, rubbing circles into the skin on your hand. “Go ahead, tell me your secret.”

Giggling, you use your free hand to beckon him closer, your face moving closer to his at the same time. Just as his ear is close enough to you, you whisper out the words that make his heart stop.

“I think I like you.”

He freezes in place, eyes staring at the black tar road ahead of him as his heart hammers against his ribcage because of your nonchalant words. He gulps before slowly turning to face you, the person he had grown to like more than he could ever imagine coming into his view. He takes quick, shallow breaths as he continues to stare at you, unsure of what to say.

Luckily (or unluckily, for Chan), you decide to continue talking, baring your heart and soul to him.

“It’s like...” you start, trailing off after your first two words, before finding the right words to continue. “It’s like I was always happy in life, but you made me realise that it was possible for me to be happier when you are there with me.”

And the smile you give Chan, accompanied with the words you had just uttered, makes him want to protect you from the rest of the world. He’s not sure if he loves you, but what he’s sure about is that all he wants to do is hug you and never let go, to be there for you every minute, every second. And he thinks that’s enough.

That’s enough reason to hold onto you and never let go.

Opening his mouth, Chan is about to reply to your drunk confession, when the sound of soft snores fill his ears.

Leaning against the light pole that was situated very conveniently behind you, you had fallen asleep in the split second Chan had taken to make his move. Your chest rises and falls with every breath you take, and Chan can’t help but breath out a laugh at your timing.

There’s always tomorrow, he thinks.

There’s white noise playing in your ear as you stare up at your ceiling.

Changbin is seated at the edge of your bed saying something important, you assume. You aren’t listening; your brain cells have decided to go on a strike and replay the scene from yesterday on loop.

I think I like you.

You want to scream. You want to scream and murder the boy sitting beside you so bad. After all, it was his fault that you ingested that goddamn devil liquid that made you spill more than your guts.

It was a wonder that you were able to find a friend as precious as Chan, and there you lay in despair, all thoughts of facing Chan again slowly slipping away from your fingertips. There was absolutely no way you were going to be able to see him after the stunt you pulled yesterday.

“Y/n, are you listening?!”

“No.”

A hand wraps around your arm and you feel yourself being pulled up, coming face-to-face with your distressed best friend. “Stop being stubborn. Calm down and listen to what I have to say.”

And that’s when you snap.

“Stubborn!?” you shriek, clutching the ends of your hair. “I just confessed to your friend, Seo Changbin. I was drunk, and I confessed my very large and real crush to the person I am crushing on. I have ruined any chance at friendship with him, so don’t tell me to stop being stubborn and to calm down!”

Taking a deep breath, Changbin pulls you towards him, both his hands resting against your cheeks. “Listen here. Stop being a wuss. Yes, you confessed when you were drunk. Yes, it’s embarrassing as fuck. But get over it. You know Chan. Is he the kind of asshole who drops friendship over small things like rejection?”

There’s a pout playing at your lips as you shake your head, partly due to the way Changbin was squishing your cheeks, and the other half because you knew he was right.

“But I still don’t want to face him yet,” you whine, pushing his hands away from your face and diving back into your covers. “I just want to wallow in self pity, and hopefully waste away on this bed so that I’ll never have to face anyone ever again.”

Changbin knows that there was no convincing you otherwise, so he settles for sighing and getting up from your bed.

“Don’t stay in bed for too long. I’ll order us food for later.”

Muttering something under your breath, you roll over and bury your face into your pillow, sighing as you think about the boy whose smile gave you more warmth than the sun could ever provide.

You’re in the midst of imagining how different today would’ve been if you hadn’t opened your dumb mouth when your phone rings and cuts off your thoughts. Reaching out for it, your mouth runs dry when you see the name displayed on your screen.

“Chan :)”

Your finger presses the decline button and your phone clatters against your bedside table as you decide that you are not ready to talk to Chan yet. And you’re not sure if you’ll ever be ready to talk to him, let alone face him.

A minute after declining the call, there’s a series of knocks on your door, and you shout out a “Go away!”, not wanting to hear anything related to Chan and how you need to stop being a coward. But as the knocking continues, getting louder as time passes, you start getting annoying and realise you have no choice but to open the door.

“What the fuck do you want, Chang-”

You cut yourself off as you take in the person standing in front of you with wide eyes, looking as handsome as ever even with the furious look painted on his face.

The silence is thick with tension, and you can’t help but avert your eyes, choosing to look at anything but the boy in front of you.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Chan asks, voice quiet and flat. “I’ve been calling and texting you all morning.”

“Um, I-” you start, not knowing how to answer his question. You imagined your day going various ways, but this definitely wasn’t in your plans. “Did Changbin call you?”

“I asked,” he starts, walking towards you. You take a few steps a back, and continue walking backwards until your hands come into contact with your dresser. You were trapped. “Why are you ignoring me, Y/n?”

You blink rapidly, not used to this closed-off version of Chan. The usual warmth and softness in his eyes were missing, and instead all you saw was disappointment and anger. You open your mouth to speak, but it wasn’t easy to get the words out.

“Was it funny messing with me?” Chan continues, not breaking eye contact with you once. “To just get my hopes up and disappear like it all meant nothing?”

“W-what?”

“How was it so easy for you to just start ignoring me?”

“No I-”

“Is that all I mean to you?” And instead of the disappointment and anger, you see pure, unfiltered hurt, and that was enough for your walls to come crashing down. Tears well up in your eyes as you look at the boy in front of you, and it’s like a dam breaks.

“I’m sorry.” Sobs wreck your body as you wipe the tears that don’t seem to stop. “I-I’m so fucking sorry, Chan. I was scared.”

“Scared because you just said that in the spur of moment and you don’t actually mean it?”

“No, I was scared because I like you too fucking much!”

There’s a pregnant silence between the two of you, and you continue staring at the floor, vision blur with stubborn tears that refuse to fall. And that’s when you hear it.

A chuckle.

It’s soft, and you would’ve missed it if not for the pin drop silence in the room.

You slowly lift your head up to confirm if you actually heard what you heard, or if you were hallucinating, when you see it.

Chan was smiling.

“Can’t believe it worked.”

What on earth did that mean?

“W-what do you mean?” you ask, sniffing softly.

“This was Changbin’s idea. For the record, I was against it.” Chan’s hands come up to rest on your cheeks, his thumb wiping away the tears on your cheeks as he smiles softly at you. “I mean, of course I was hurt and worried. But I just wanted to come over and talk it over like a normal person.”

His smile widens as one hand continues cupping your face, while the other reaches to tuck the one stray strand of hair behind your ear. “He said you’ll never admit things unless I, uh, scared you a little.

You stare at Chan as the gears work in your head, putting the pieces of information. The moment the last piece clicks in place, you stare in shock at the boy standing in front of you with a sheepish smile.

“What the fuck?!” you yell, equal parts of relief and anger taking over your mind. “I fucking hate you!”

And with that you storm off towards your door, Chan chasing after you with apologies spilling from his mouth. But the both of you knew that you weren’t actually upset, which can be seen by the giggles accompanying every apology.

Just as you’re about to leave your room, you’re pulled back into warm arms, and you fight every urge to melt right into his embrace. His arms wrap around your frame tightly, but gently. You feel his strong heartbeat against your back, and it’s enough to make you shiver, goosebumps erupting all over your skin.

“Do you hate me?” Chan asks, chin resting on your shoulder as you feel his breath tickle your neck.

“Yes.”

“Really?” Chan asks in amusement, lips against your ears and voice just above a whisper. “That’s a pity then. Because I like you too fucking much too.”

He whispers the last part of the sentence, making your knees go weak and your heartbeat pick up its pace as it usually does whenever the boy who stole your heart was involved.

You turn around in his arms to face him, sighing contentedly at how things ended up turning out. “I’m really sorry about the ghosting.”

“It’s okay, love,” Chan assures you, the pet name inducing butterflies in your stomach. “I would’ve been embarrassed too, if I had confessed to you when I was drunk.”

“I would’ve loved to see that.” You whine at the unfortunate circumstance of you confessing instead of Chan. “I probably looked like an idiot while confessing.”

“Since I’m your boyfriend, can I tell you a secret?” Chan teases, repeating what you said the night before with a little twist. Smacking his arm lightly for the jab, you nod with a laugh, ignoring the way your face heats up when he refers to himself as your boyfriend.

“I really wanted to kiss you when you were confessing.” There’s mirth in Chan’s eyes as he gazes at you the same way he did back at the restaurant. The only difference was that you knew he liked you back. And you had never been happier.

“Go for it.”

And that’s all the confirmation that Chan needs to lean down and press his lips against yours in a feather-light kiss, as your hands rest on his chest, appreciating the strong beat his heart was playing.

You part a few seconds later, eyes still closed as a smile plays on both your lips, before you’re pulled for another kiss, this one more forceful than the one before. His lips press against yours harder, and his arms pull you closer—as close as you could be. You respond with equal fervor, pouring every emotion you have into the kiss, when you’re interrupted by a loud cough.

“I would appreciate it if I didn’t have to bleach my eyes every time I see the two of you.”

Oh.

It completely slipped your mind that Changbin was just a few steps away from your room, and you want to crawl under your bed and befriend the monster there when you see the haughty smile on your best friend’s face.

“I think a thanks is in order.”

Removing yourself from Chan’s arms, you walk over to Changbin, who smiles wider when he realises you are walking towards him. Opening his arms to welcome you in for a hug, he can’t help but shriek when you start punching him everywhere possible.

“Dude, what is wrong with you?!”

“That’s what you get for coming up with stupid ideas to get me to talk!” you snap at your best friend with words that carry no real bite. “Were you that desperate?”

“Clearly!” Changbin replies, exasperated. “It was getting depressing. He wouldn’t stop calling me because he was worried, and you were being a stubborn bitch!”

At his words, there’s a tinge of guilt that pinches at you when you realise the trouble you had put your best friend through.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” you say with a pout, burying your face into Changbin’s shoulder. “And thank you.”

“Yes yes, you’re welcome,” Changbin says with a soft smile. He wouldn’t admit it just yet, but seeing his best friend who meant the world to him end up with someone who just as much deserved nothing but the best made him eternally grateful. “Now go smooch your boyfriend. We don’t want him becoming too jealous of the attention you’re giving me.”

“Oh, shut up,” is what Changbin gets in return, as Chan intertwines his hand with yours. Just as Changbin walks out of sight back to his room, Chan turns to you with the biggest smile.

“Now then, shall we go on a date to celebrate our first day?”

“Absolutely.”

And as you and Chan sit on the beach that evening, surrounded by sand and accompanied by the sound of the waves and the soft breeze with a orange hue enveloping you, you think:

Life had never been sweeter.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids fluff #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz oneshot #skz x reader #skz fluff #chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan oneshot #dee scribbles

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bi-bard · 3 years ago

Text

The Trials - Winchester Brothers Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: The Trials

Pairing: Winchesters X Child!Reader (14)

Requested: nope

Word Count: 1,477 words

Warning(s): violence, blood, mention of how shitty the Winchesters treated Kevin.

Summary: (Season 8) After learning about the trials that could close the gates of hell, (Y/n) and the Winchesters are ready to get started. However, they know that nothing can go to plan.

Author's Note: I have been thinking about this for months because I really wanted to give this original character an over-arching storyline that was already part of the show, but I couldn't decide on which one would work.

Also, I'm sorry for that hiatus there. I had a lot going on and felt that it was easier to take a step back than start working on new stuff.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

The phone call from Kevin was simultaneously great and terrible.

The phone call meant that there was a step forward in deciphering the God tablet. That was great. But it also came with an inherent sense of fear because none of us had any real idea about what the tablet could possibly say.

The key to closing the gates of hell could involve anything. None of us truly knew what could happen.

When we got to Garth's houseboat to check on Kevin, we were pretty shocked to find the state that he was in. Barely sleeping, eating complete crap, and he hadn't showered in God knows how long.

He didn't really talk much about his current state of being. He decided to jump into what he had found instead.

The key to closing the gates of hell was a spell. A few words of Enochian that needed to be repeated after each of the three trials.

Once the trials are done, the gates can be slammed closed.

The first trial was to kill a hellhound and bathe in its blood.

The very idea made me feel a little bit sick.

But not as sick as the feeling in my gut when Dean insisted that he was going to go through the trials.

"What," I snapped. The boat was suddenly far more tense than it had been. "You can't do that. You just back from purgatory."

"This could save millions of people, (Y/n)," Dean said. "We have to think of the bigger picture."

"Screw that," I replied. "We just got you back. We just found a home. And you want to throw it away like that. Let some other hunter do the job-"

"No," he cut me off. "This is our responsibility. I have to do this. You don't have to help, but you aren't going to stop me."

I clenched my jaw and crossed my arms over my chest. I never signed up for this life. Why the hell was I paying for it?

After a few moments of silence, the attention in the room shifted away from me.

Sam had managed to track down a family that was a definite candidate for a crossroad demon's deal. The family was on land with no trace of oil and then suddenly struck gold.

Now, we were on our way to Idaho with the hopes of catching the hellhound before it could take a snap at the family.

"So, do either of you have a real plan on how to get the family to listen to us," I asked.

"Well," Dean said. He trailed off for a moment. "Not really."

"Nice," I replied, chuckling to myself.

"I've been kinda focused on other things."

"Like keeping a college kid locked on a boat," I asked.

He looked at me through the rearview mirror, "That's not fair."

"You're volunteering to throw yourself into the pit... again," I leaned my head on the window. "Don't talk to me about fair."

The rest of the drive was relatively silent. Sam tried to give us some notes, but no one was really communicating.

I was angry. Of course, I was angry. But I was more scared than anything. I was scared of losing everything yet again. I couldn't do anything else like this again. But now I had to accept it without any argument. It was ridiculous.

--time skip--

Sam was right about the oil family.

Their deal was about to run out and Crowley had sicked his hellhounds on them.

Dean and I had run out to a barn nearby. We were both wearing glasses meant to spot the hellhound and Dean had a blade ready to kill it.

The hellhound jumped out and shoved Dean into the far wall. The blade went flying to the side and his glasses had been knocked from his face.

I panicked.

"Hey," I yelled.

The hellhound froze over Dean before looking at me. It growled at me. I pointed my gun at it, hoping to distract it long enough for Dean to get away.

I barely registered Dean yelling as the hellhound jumped on me.

I knew that Dean was the one that was supposed to kill the hellhound. Kill the hellhound, start the trials to close the gates of hell.

In the moment, I didn't care.

Once I got my hand around the handle of the blade that he had dropped, I slammed it up into the stomach of the hellhound. I dragged my hand up and pulled the blade out.

I was shaking as I pulled myself out from under the hellhound. I dropped the blade and threw the glasses away from me, staring at the spot where the hound had been.

I looked down at my body.

So much blood.

"No," Dean muttered, standing up and walking over to me.

"I-I'm sorry," I replied, tears in my eyes as I looked at my bloodstained hands. "I'm so sorry."

"This can't be happening," Sam whispered before coming over. He knelt next to me and grabbed my upper arms, helping me stand up.

I could barely hold my own weight up.

"I messed everything up," I mumbled. "I ruined everything."

"Hey, hey," Sam ignored the blood and hugged me to his side. "It's okay. You're alright. We'll figure this out."

"(Y/n)," Dean said. He placed a hand on my shoulder so he could look at me. "Are you alright?"

"I ruined the plan," I muttered.

"No, you didn't," he brought me into a hug.

Sam picked up the glasses and the weapon.

"We'll get this sorted out," Dean promised quietly. "We can solve this."

I nodded as he led me back to the impala. He and Sam went to talk with the surviving member of the family as I tried to find a way to sit without the blood-soaked clothes sticking to me.

"Are they gonna be alright," I could hear the woman through the door.

"(Y/n)'s tough," Dean replied.

"That doesn't answer the question," she said.

"We'll keep an eye on them," Sam promised.

"Good luck," she nodded before Sam and Dean got in the car.

I looked out the window and tried to calm myself down. I didn't want them to spend the entire drive worrying about me.

When we made it to a nearby motel, I noticed Dean grabbing a bowl out of the trunk and a few materials. The spell. He was going to attempt the spell.

Sam led me inside.

"The spell won't work," I said as Dean set up the bowl on the table nearby. "Not for you, anyway."

There was a moment of silence as he finished setting up the spell, "I'm not letting you go through this."

"I'm the only option," I replied. "What are the odds of us finding another crossroads deal about to meet its end?"

"You are not going to do this."

"Dean, I've spent the last however many years feeling like I have no choice in what happens to me or around me," I held my hand out for the spell. "Let me choose this."

"Sam," Dean looked at his brother for help.

"(Y/n), we need to think about this," Sam stepped forward. "We can't put you in that much danger."

I saw that Dean wasn't focused on the spell in his hand. I reached forward and snatched it from him.

"(Y/n), no!"

"Stop," I yelled. "I passed the test. It's my job now. You two have saved me countless times. It's my turn. You guys have family up here. Friends. A home now. There's an ending in sight. This is my job in bringing the end to us."

"You could die-"

"So could you."

Everything went silent between us. I looked at Sam. He looked down for a moment before looking back at me and nodding at me. Dean looked between the two of us. With a sigh, he walked over and kissed y forehead before stepping back and nodding to me.

I read the spell off of the paper.

A burning sensation was sent up my arm and I yelled, clutching my arm to my chest. As the wave of pain went through the rest of my body, I doubled over. Dean helped me sit down before he just stepped back. I looked at my arm, which had a bright light shining beneath the skin.

After a few moments, the pain subsided. I took a few deep breaths before looking back up at Sam and Dean.

"You alright," Dean asked, kneeling next to me. I nodded, clenching and unclenching my hand a few times.

Sam kneeled on the other side of me, "You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah," I nodded again. "I'm okay."

Dean pulled me into a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him.

All I could think of was one thing, I hope I know what I've gotten myself into.

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

Masterlist

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

Maisie Peters - “You Signed Up for This” Writing Challenge Masterlist

#supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction

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extasiswings · 4 years ago

Text

you make my heart beat

I played myself...anyway, if you’re interested in the post that inspired this, it’s here, asking how I would write a forgotten first meeting + hospital AU. Also on ao3 here. Have about 2k of Buck and nurse!Eddie set between seasons 2 and 3.

Eddie is at the reception desk reading a chart when a cup of coffee slides over the counter and settles by his forearm. He glances up—

“Usually it’s the doctors bringing me bribes, not the patients,” he says, a small smile curving his lips. “Last I checked, you didn’t have charts for me to transcribe for you—what’s this for then?”

Buck shrugs and leans forward, elbows on the counter.

“Who says it’s a bribe? I can’t just do something nice for my favorite nurse?”

Eddie closes the chart and picks up the cup—his eyes slip closed as espresso and cinnamon bursts across his tongue, and he barely holds back a groan—fuck, but it’s been a long shift.

“Thank you,” he replies. “Did I know you were coming in today?”

Buck shakes his head. “Last minute check-up. Got new scans on Monday—if everything looks good, Dr. Graves should clear me to take my recertification test.”

There’s a hopeful note in his tone even as Eddie catches the flicker of nervousness that passes through his eyes, and Eddie thinks about running into him a few months earlier, about I don’t know who I am without the uniform, and reaches out. His hand curves around Buck’s elbow where it rests on the counter—it makes his breathing go a little unsteady, touching Buck without the justification and distance provided by clinical professionalism, but the touch elicits a soft smile that does funny things to his heart, so Eddie can’t quite regret it either.

“That’s really great, Buck,” he says quietly. “I’m happy for you.”

One of the new residents comes around the corner and Eddie clears his throat as he pulls back his hand.

“I guess I know what the bribe was for then,” he teases, trying to push them back to their prior, lighthearted zone. “You just wanted me to do your work-up instead of Shirley.”

Buck laughs. “Can you blame me?” He asks. “She’s mean and her hands are always cold.”

“You complain that I’m mean all the time,” Eddie shoots back as he logs into the computer to check Buck in.

“Yeah, well, maybe I—” Buck cuts himself off and Eddie glances up in time to catch the flush darkening his cheeks. There are a lot of ways that sentence could end and all of them make his own face heat.

Maybe it’s silly—he’s an adult, he’s single, he gets flirted with all the time, even, or maybe especially by Buck, he shouldn’t get flustered. But it’s because it is Buck and not just any random patient or family member that he does. Because Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing but he wants—

He busies himself grabbing a clipboard and a check-in form and clears his throat again before looking up.

“Come on, I’ll take you back.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” Buck replies, and his smile is back, the soft one. It’s only because Eddie’s distracted by it that he notices the way it twists into a grimace when Buck takes a step.

Eddie’s brow furrows. “You okay?”

Buck waves him off. “Fine, just—I’ve been training a lot so I can take my test as soon as I’m cleared. Must have pulled a muscle or something. Twinged a little is all.”

Eddie makes a note on the clipboard and Buck groans.

“No, come on—I pulled a muscle, I’m fine, you don’t have to write that down.”

“Maybe you pulled a muscle, maybe it’s nothing—regardless, Dr. Graves should know that you’re having leg pain just in case,” Eddie says. He pauses and narrows his eyes. “You weren’t going to tell him.”

“Because it’s nothing,” Buck insists. “Come on, Nurse Diaz, isn’t there some saying about hearing hoofbeats and thinking horses, not zebras?”

Eddie steers Buck down the hall to an exam room.

“Yeah, sure. I’ve heard it,” he replies.

“So?”

“So…” They step through the door and Eddie nods at the exam table before reaching for a blood pressure cuff. “There are a lot of very common things that could be causing pain in a limb that you’ve had multiple surgeries on, only one of which is that you pulled a muscle, and some of which could be serious. No zebras required. I’m not taking the note off the chart and you’re not going to lie when you get asked about it, okay?”

He fastens the cuff around Buck’s arm and presses a button to start the reading—he can’t help the way his lips twitch at Buck’s exasperated look.

“Little pressure,” he adds, and Buck rolls his eyes.

“I should have taken my chances with Shirley,” Buck grumbles.

“Yeah, well, if there’s a next time you can bring her coffee instead—I hear she likes hazelnut lattes.”

The cuff loosens, the monitor beeps. Eddie scribbles down the number. It’s a little high—Eddie glances over, takes in the tension in Buck’s shoulders, and bites his cheek.

“It’ll be okay,” he says, even though he usually tries to avoid promising patients anything. “Best case, they run a few more scans and waste a couple hours of your afternoon to find out that you’re right and perfectly fine. Worst case, something’s wrong and they catch it now and fix it and you’re still on track to get back to work, just maybe a couple weeks later than you planned.”

“It’s already been five months,” Buck sighs, his fingers raking through his hair.

“I know it’s frustrating—”

“How’s Christopher?” Buck interrupts, and Eddie levels him with a sharp look for the obvious deflection, but allows the subject change as he logs into the exam room computer.

“He’s good,” he replies. “Great, actually. Keeps asking about you—he, uh, he had a really great time the other day, even if it was just hanging around here. I can’t thank you enough for watching him.”

It’s not something Eddie normally would have done at all, but his abuela had a fall, Pepa had to go back to work, he couldn’t take off because they were already short-staffed with three other nurses out with the flu—

And Buck had just…been there. Finished with his physical therapy and offering to stick around so Eddie could finish his shift, all smiles and no judgment, and after five months…well, they’re something like friends, right? They're...something, anyway.

“He’s an amazing kid, and it was the best day I’ve had in…awhile, actually,” Buck admits. “You really don’t have to keep thanking me. I would do it again any time.”

I do, though, Eddie thinks, but he bites it back. He bites back, I’d like that, too.

He finishes filling in the intake information and steps back.

“You should be all set. The doctor will be in any minute.” He pauses before he reaches the door. Swallows.

“Find me after?” He asks. “Let me know how it goes? I’m on until four.”

“I’ll find you,” Buck promises. “Have to say I told you so when it turns out I just pulled a muscle.”

“I’ll be glad to hear it,” Eddie replies. He gets one more smile to sustain him before he walks out, leaving Buck behind.

He’ll see Buck later.

Except…he doesn’t. The rest of his shift passes without another sign of the other man and the gnawing worry in his gut worsens. The exam room is empty when he checks, he doesn’t have any new pages or texts—it would be easy to pull Buck’s chart and find out if something happened, but that feels like it would cross a line when it’s not strictly necessary—

He shoots off a text of his own, but there’s still no reply by the time he’s showered and changed out of his scrubs.

It’s happenstance that he runs into Dr. Graves’ favorite resident outside the locker room.

“Hey, Cassie—Graves had a patient today, Evan Buckley? I did the intake, and I was wondering—”

“Oh, he was admitted,” she says. “Room 312, I think.”

Eddie’s stomach drops. Sometimes he hates being right.

“Thanks,” he says faintly. She gives him a distracted hum, preoccupied by responding to a text, and Eddie heads to the elevators.

“Hey,” he greets a few minutes later, leaning against the doorway in Buck’s room. His hands are shoved in his pockets and he’s not entirely sure whether to cross the threshold.

Buck looks…tired. Frustrated. Upset. Raw. He tries to cover it when he sees Eddie, but it doesn’t fully work.

Eddie’s heart aches.

“Blood clots,” Buck sighs with a rueful shrug. “On the screws in my leg. They said it was lucky they caught it before one broke off and traveled anywhere, or it could have killed me. Guess you saved my life, Nurse Diaz.”

“Well…” Eddie weighs his hesitation against his desire to be closer and ultimately pushes off the doorframe to step inside. “You are my favorite patient. Who else is going to bring me coffee if you died?”

“Oh, I’m sure a lot of people would be more than happy to do that,” Buck replies. “I’m picturing a line around the block here.”

Eddie settles into the chair next to the bed.

“I think you’re vastly overestimating there, but—” Eddie wets his lips as he meets Buck’s gaze. Fuck, he’s not good at this, but he would do just about anything to bring Buck’s smile back. “—but, for whatever it’s worth, I wouldn’t want anyone else to.”

“Because I’m your favorite patient?” The look in Buck’s eyes is hopeful but wary, the kind of look that says despite his easy flirtations, he’s been burned before and expects to be again. And maybe it’s that honest vulnerability that finally unsticks Eddie’s tongue because when he opens his mouth to respond, what comes out is—

“You’re not just a patient, Buck. Not to me. You have to know that.”

“Do I?”

The skepticism feels like a challenge and Eddie rises to it by leaning in—he slides his fingers into Buck’s hair and closes the gap, kissing him once, twice, as Buck makes a startled sound against his lips and curls his own fingers into Eddie’s shirt to kiss him back.

“I don’t do that with just anyone,” Eddie breathes when he pulls back. “And I definitely don’t let them meet my son. Clear enough?”

Buck clears his throat, and nods, flushed and a little dazed in a way that makes Eddie bite back a grin.

“Speaking of, I have to go pick him up, but…” Eddie steals another kiss. “I’ll come see you tomorrow? And maybe we can…talk about this a little more?”

“I’d like that,” Buck admits. “And—Eddie—I—” His throat works as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he says finally. “For not letting me brush it off.”

Eddie’s thumb rubs against the edge of Buck’s jaw before he finally drops his hand.

“I care about you. Part of that means wanting to see you care about yourself,” he replies. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Buck looks like he might argue with that, but ultimately just tugs Eddie in for one final kiss before releasing him.

“Tell Christopher I said hi.”

“I will.”

#chapel writes #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #you're all horrible enablers

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hacash · 3 years ago

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ted lasso thoughts 2x08

hey, remember when everyone was worried that Ted Lasso Season 2 had too much fluff and not enough conflict? huh? everyone remember that?

everyone remember when we watched this because it was light and hopeful enough to get us through lockdown?

remember last episode when we thought all the dark forest would be about nate’s downward spiral and thought nothing else heavy could happen?

hell, remember when we first saw jamie tartt and thought there was no way we could sympathise with him as a character?

I’m not going to lie, the dark forest is dark and it is scary, but even in the midst of the trees there’s flickers of light. jamie’s entire storyline in this ep was building scene by scene - we could feel the tension growing, from that first screenshot of his phone saying “Dad” (not Dad, “Dad”, I mean fuck this show) right up to the moment when Tartt Senior bursts into the changing room. If Phil Dunster doesn’t get an Emmy nomination next year he will have been absolutely robbed - and then to put the icing on the cake, having Roy be the one to step up and hold him through the pain. I mean, damn.

A little underrated scene was Jamie and Higgins chatting: there’s no way in hell Jamie would have taken the time to so much as pass Higgins a word one season ago, let alone ask if he wanted the door to his closet-office closed. I particularly appreciated Higgins’ chat about his own father - it wasn’t straight-up ‘screw your dad if he’s a bad dad’, but neither was it a ‘you should always be there for your family no matter what’ message that children of abusive parents often get from well-meaning but ignorant bystanders, once again showing that Higgins picks up on more than not. Personally I’m waiting for Jamie to be invited around to the Higginses for Sunday lunch.

The shock on the entire Richmond team’s face through that scene. Oh man.

I never thought they’d have the audacity to kill off Sharon before the credits but whoa that still had me yelling at my screen while the theme song was still playing. I love how we’re seeing more of her as a character, not just a therapist. (And hearing her voicemails to Ted were something else.)

Ted. Oh Ted. I think a lot of us knew it was coming but still, that line hit more heavily than anything else in the episode. The bluntness of it coming out of nowhere - the fact that Ted is unsure whether or not that was what gave him his issues - the fact that we’re still scratching the surface... *weeps in football*

The Diamond Dogs exchanging vulnerabilities was such a precious moment. I’ve seen some say that they thought Nate’s expression was one of disgust at Ted’s revelation, and some that they thought it was relief at not being the only one struggling with mental health issues. For myself, I read it as shock - Nate’s always seen Ted on a pedestal, and the idea that your idol can suffer from the same weaknesses as you...well, that’s always a heavy moment. (Whatever it was, I’m sure it’ll come back to bite us in time.)

SAM ‘N REBECCA. It’s a testament to the two actors that even though everything in me feels iffy and odd and that this ain’t a good thing, their chemistry and acting is so good that you end up thinking ‘oh man, I wish this was workable for them’. Rebecca knows it’s not going to work, but comes up against Sam’s irrepressible youthful charm and hope, and after everything she’s been through...suddenly it’s so easy to understand why she’s sailing so close to the wind. But it’s almost definite that this ain’t gonna work out, and all we can do is hope like hell it ends as well as possible.

Seriously, look me in eye and tell me that if Toheeb Jimoh came up to you looking like he did all through that episode and asked to have dinner that you’d say no. I dare you.

Is Roy’s sister the doctor from the ER???? I really hope she is.

Roy taking on board everything he learned about being a good role model for Phoebe and comforting Jamie is just...just... *flails*

There wasn’t much to laugh at in this episode but my boy Colin never lets me down. That dumbbell scene had me cackling. Seriously, someone protect him. (I particularly loved the fact that we have Overprotective Boyfriend Isaac lambasting him for letting Colin nearly choke to death and then thirty seconds later does the exact same thing.)

THE HAIRCUTTING SCENE. There are no words other than cinematic masterpiece. I remember thinking at the beginning of this season that I wanted more for Isaac to do and to see him coming into his own as Captain and holy hell did I get my wish. Watching all the boys hoot and applaud and gush over Isaac’s effortless mastery of the clippers was the purest form of ‘boys will be boys’ I have ever seen or will ever see. (Until the next Richmond Himbos scene, ofc.)

And as a nice touch, watching Will take part and be included (holding the clippers’ tray ‘like a squire to a knight’) was lovely, particularly given the last episode.

The football match itself - it says a lot that this wasn’t even the focus, only as a tool to make our hearts break even more for Richmond FC - was hard to watch, particularly because it really felt like we were meant to feel like they just weren’t playing well? and I don’t quite understand why - I’ve already written about how Nate kinda had a point in this episode, that Roy and Ted dashing off for emergencies without telling anyone what they were is weird under any circumstance (let alone before such an important match) and possibly is a sign that while the team themselves are stronger than ever, everything is not quite well with the coaches of Richmond.

(seriously: ‘Sharon’s in the hospital and I’m going to make sure she’s ok’ ‘My niece has an emergency at school.’ Would that have been so hard? From a show that prioritises communication?)

And I really didn’t understand that little moment of Beard letting Nate - a junior coach, before a really important match - lead training. That, coupled with Beard being focused on as struggling to take the result, really intrigues me. It could be nothing, but so often this show drops little nuggets leading up to a big reveal, and the fact that the next episode looks to be Beard centric has me very interested, and more than a little anxious. As I am leading up to every episode of Ted Lasso these days, I suppose.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #the little things

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stewy · 4 years ago

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Excerpts from Yoko's 'Revolution Chaos' tape (4 June 1968)

This is mostly for my own organization, but I thought people might find it interesting. I can't find the actual tape (I think it was removed from YT because I once heard it there), but here is the full transcript. They couldn't actually hear her, btw. She seemed to be on the back of the studio with a tape recorder on, while they were recording Revolution 1. Trigger warning for psychoanalyzing John Lennon's handwriting!

Andy Warhol and Mario Meyer shot today in New York, I’m so glad that I wasn’t there. Because I would like to be there if I were in New York, oh, but that’s something that I should tell John, it’s so funny Mario used to, because he’s a f*g, I guess I don’t know what it is, but anyway he was very, I think he’s a real f*g, as much as he could as a f*g, I think terribly interested in me and all that so what he does is he would just sort of like touch me on the neck or like on my back or something like that or sort of scratch my arm or something like that when I’m talking to somebody.

***

John: Can you think of anything else?

Paul: No. Just. . .

J: Oh yeah, that’s the end.

P: Yeah, just organ and drums.

J: Should we just tape this?

Y: I wish John was in me right now, inside of me. [...] So, I was just thinking about it. It’s so important that you come inside me, instead of coming in my head or something. You see, and then you say that there’s no difference, but if you understand the difference of that, that’s when you would really start to understand what it means to love somebody it sort of occurred to me that . . . and the other thing is sex, in other words, like just physical sex senses, that the sensual things, but this bed is like all life reaching, reaching each other and giving something. And the fact that you gave me your sperm, I don’t know, probably. At some time of your life you had a situation where you became scared of a straight relationship, of giving to each other and instead of giving to women, you’d rather spit on the sky or shoot it to the sky kind of thing. I mean you said it, that’s like a strange kind of nihilism of kind of a “fuck you all” kind of thing. It’s avoiding, avoiding something. Avoiding communication. It’s like you don’t want to.

***

[...] Nothing that I notice today that I really feel proud of, is that for instance, your handwriting, it’s always been like, all your letters were going backwards, leaning backwards, which means tremendous insecurity (for fuck's sake). But today I’ve seen, that all your letters were leaning forward, not all, but most of them were sort of leaning forward. At least that you’re suddenly starting to, instead of being reticent, starting to become forward and aggressive. Which is like a very normal thing, for men. Their leaning backwards handwriting is typical of, sort of, insecure, terribly insecure high school girl or something like that. It’s very rare to see it in a man, did you know that? And when I saw, when I first saw your handwriting, I was really amazed ‘cause you very rarely see that in a man. And I always felt that I saw your secret there, in something, but now, it’s starting to change, and it’s beautiful. Why, why that insecurity? And the passiveness, paranoia, I hate to say, but I really think that that had a lot to do with, with her, your marriage. Or maybe you were like that, and that’s how your marriage became that. I don’t know, that seems like a long relationship like that, would really screw somebody up. Like I was screwed up. That it could screw up, screw people up, rather. Then again, it could be a good thing. But anyway that handwriting, and your marriage, somehow I felt that sort of an intuitive thing, the first time I saw it, I thought that there was a definite connection.

J: What are you saying?

Y: I’m just saying how I miss you.

J: Well, ladies and gentleman, I also miss her, and it’s a terrible feeling. Alone in a crowded room.

Y: You look so nice when you’ve been playing awhile, and perspiring and everything. It’s looks like you had a drink or something . . . so insecure about something and about. . .

***

Y: [...] And it’s silly because actually all I want to do is to just not say anything. Oh, John, I really miss you, you don’t know how. [singing begins] I don’t know you...

J: Smashing Rooney the steak.

Y: ‘Cause I don’t know you.

J: Oh, no it is too late for me.

Y: ‘Cause I don’t know you.

J: I have been stab-bed in the brass vertebrae.

Y: Who did that?

J: I did it myself.

Y: Don’t you ever do that.

J: I must do it now and then to keep myself in tune.

Y: No, you mustn’t do anything without me.

J: I wasn’t exactly doing it without you. I was just doing it in the corner. Oh, Mother McRae. Excuse me. I must just let myself reek a minute. Because I’m sweating to my boots I’m going to have a look at the photographs of the family. [end of singing]

***

[Insert quote about Paul being a threat had he been a woman, etc, Air signs, etc]

***

John is such a genius. This is the first time that just once in a while, I almost get jealous of his talent, which is really amazing because I was never jealous of any artist. Whenever I get sad about his work, I almost feel like kneeling down and kissing his feet.

[...] you look like a real nervous wreck. You’re a very nervous person, apparently. You looked that way, suddenly I remembered you looked that way when I first came to EMI to pick up some scores, I mean, a manuscript from you, you looked like somebody who was terribly nervous and difficult, and feel like a difficult artist or something. If I had seen you that way, probably, I’d be scared, if I didn’t know you, and all that, if I just meet you that way. I wonder what John really is thinking about. You really look like a tense, nervous person. Why do you look so difficult? Like as if you want to scare a guy or something, I think that’s amazing. Anybody who has some project in their mind to approach you with or something would really be scared with that look. But it’s kind of nice, it’s very masculine [cut] or something. I don’t know how you have that shift of character of very sharp, strong eyes and sometimes very soft and beautiful eyes. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m following you too much. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m looking at you too much and so I haste to go near you. Right now you’re in the other room, and I’m just sort of embarrassed, and I don’t know if I should be coming or not. But you’re in my mind all the time, so I guess that’s what it is. You look so intense. And maybe you’re angry or something with me, I don’t know. So I’m afraid to go near you now.

***

[...] I’m so nervous now because I’m always trying to find out when Cyn is coming back.

P: Jot the melody down.

GM: Can you hear me?

Y: I feel like running out of this room. This is Tuesday, sixth of June, 1968. If anybody in the world would know how I feel now, because I’m the most insecure person in the world right now. Is this what love is? It’s so unfair that you have to suffer so much for loving someone. John is not here, he went out into the hall. I don’t know for what. He’s out for a long time. I think probably he’s calling home, I don’t know. He’s been with her for over a decade and their other child, I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t want to think about it. It’s either that he had a terribly weak character or he was in love to her (well, I'm glad they decided to go with the weak character version! How dare John be in love with anyone but Yoko?). I just don’t want to think about it. I’ve never been with anyone for so long so I wouldn’t know. If I think very hard, then I know, I mean I don’t even think I have to think hard, I just get so jealous about it I almost think I’m going to go insane.

(RIP to your mental health if you read all that, really, I'm so sorry)

#the beatles #yoko ono #john lennon #john and yoko #john #yoko #i feel sickly after this honestly #so many fucking thoughts but can't put them in order #this simultaneously made me sympathize and dislike her more #what a feat #god i feel like i need another shower #you know i've gone past feeling a sort of perverse pleasure watching j&y torture each other it's just depressing #my favorite part is john saying how much he missed her out loud and 1) not making any move to get near her 2) going out

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dennou-translations · 4 years ago

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Violet Evergarden Ever After: Chapter 3

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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No one would imagine that a single drop could be the start of something so big. However, it would earn itself great meaning after a while passed. Should it continue pouring, it could also summon boundless blessings and curses.

Love was almost like rain.

The Journey and the Auto-Memories Doll

That one was a rain of betrayal.

It started with a calm morning, the sky unfolding without any hints of being enshrouded in dark clouds. Regardless, it did not take too long for the capricious rain brought by the heavens to turn into a downpour rarely seen in recent years.

There was no longer any sign of the rain that had started to fall like gentle kisses from paradise on the black hats of gentlemen walking around town, over the backs of cats dozing under the sun or onto the cheeks of children who opened their mouths and burst into laughter. The current season was the end of summer, and it was raining for the first in a long while in Leidenschaftlich, where the skies were constantly clear in summer, but had the god that controlled weather gone crazy? With time, as if a bucket had turned over, the city was hit by a flood.

This story is about an uneventful day, which did nothing but pass, in the lives of people who worked at a certain postal company.

The rain and wind struck the entire building as if attacking it. The doorbell rang loudly because of this, a man standing in place and staring at it with unease.

Creak-creak, the door moved. Ring-ring, the bell resounded. Since it was ringing despite there being no customers, he had become concerned and found himself coming down from his residence in the top floor.

In the previous year, the building had been shot with rocket artillery, and not only had it earned an enormous hole but a fire had also occurred – however, thanks to the quick skills of workmen, the hole was now closed and the walls had been neatly rebuilt.

The man was a stylish redhead. He was the president of this company, which he had named after himself.

Claudia Hodgins had been left all alone in the empty postal office. Still, it was normal for him to be there, as it was both his home and workplace. However, since he was by himself at a time that would usually still be within business hours, no matter what, he looked like he had been abandoned.

The postal office had been in great turmoil because of the storm. Surely, so had its peers. With the deliveries stagnated, complaints were coming from the clients. Nevertheless, the transportation was not carried out by machines devoid of feelings. It was something done by humans, who had been given birth to by someone and who had families waiting for them when they returned home. In lieu of the unpreceded disaster, as the president, he had notified all employees that business would be closed for today.

To begin with, the customers had stopped coming in the middle of the day. If he had to say so himself, this might be the expected. Deliberately going outside amidst such strong wind and torrential rain was an act of sheer madness.

Curious about what was going on outside, Hodgins had approached the entrance from the side. He felt like attempting to open the large doors just a little. He wanted to see how inundated the ground was. Just when he slow and carefully reached a hand towards it, the door opened with force despite him not doing anything.

“Ow...!”

“Oh, my bad. More importantly, we’re screwed; it’s just impossible, Old Man!”

Hodgins was teary-eyed as his precious nose took a hit. He was lightheaded for an instant due to the pain, but soon regained consciousness. After all, one of his employees had come back dripping-wet. Hodgins pulled him – whole body wrapped in rain gear – by the arm, bringing him inside and closing the door. Although it was only open for a few seconds, the entrance was already drenched.

The visitor took off the hood over his head, allowing his face to be seen. He was a splendidly handsome and fine man of sky-blue eyes and sandy-blond hair.

“Benedict...!”

Benedict Blue. One of the postal company’s postmen, who had been working in it ever since its founding.

“It’s impossible – actually, it’s absurd! Working under this rain is absurd! I look like I’m in the bath already. I wouldn’t have come here if I weren’t soaked... Making the staff pull out was the right choice,” Benedict said as if angry-yelling, shaking his head in the same way that a dog or cat would and splattering water splashes at Hodgins.

This wetted most of Hodgins’s shirt and face, but he was unable to reprimand his employee, who had been doing strenuous effort. He accepted it in resignation, wiping Benedict’s face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Okay, stay put.”

“Uoh, what’s with you? Stop.”

“Welcome home. I was worried. Good thing you’re all right.”

“O-Oh. What, hum... I’m back... You were worried about me?”

“Of course,” Hodgins said, to which Benedict turned away with an obviously embarrassed attitude after a moment of bewilderment.

Outside, vases and planters that may have been at the eaves of people’s houses, as well as shop signs, had been turning into weapons for a while now, dancing around the city along with the wind. Managing to come back unharmed and safely amidst this weather, where one could not know what would come flying their way, was something to be happy about.

“I’m just fine. This job’s easier than running around shooting guns. Anyway, I was left with the letters and packages of a guy who fell from his motorcycle and came back by myself. Was best to do that, right?”

“Aah, so someone got hurt?”

“That newbie, Clark. But he only scrapped his knees. He fell lots of times when he was learning how to ride, but for real, it’s surprisingly depressing when you fall off other than during practice. He was crying, y’see.”

“Aah~.”

Knowing who the person in question was, Hodgins pitied him. He was the youngest postman to join the company as of late. It was difficult to find human resources for postmen as they were quick to quit.

“He’s young, after all...”

“You call him young but... he’s already a grown man. I wonder if he ain’t lying to us about his age... I thought he was a baby or something.”

“You can’t compare him to a city boy fresh from the battlefield like yourself. I’m gonna get you a towel and a change of clothes now, so don’t move from there.”

“Why?”

“You’d wet the floor. Don’t tell me to go around cleaning up where you walked.”

“Clean it up,” he said while laughing, to which Hodgins’s shoulders slumped. He was a reliable companion, but also a young man who knew not how to show respect for his elders.

——Well, guess I’m a so-called doting parent for thinking that’s cute – no, doting boss.

Anyhow, they needed towels, Hodgins thought as he went back to his room. He grabbed a few large towels and held a pair of trousers and shirt that Benedict would apparently fit into under his arm. Then returned to the ground floor. By the time he did so, the number of people had increased.

“Uwah... Amazing, it’s like squeezing a rag.”

There were three more other than Benedict. If they were to be separated by types, one of them had evacuated after receiving a report of work, one had evacuated after finishing work, and one had been ordered to clock out, but all had come back halfway through, as their bodies were about to be blown off by the overwhelming storm.

“Please stop.” There was Violet Evergarden, whose golden hair was in Benedict’s grasp.

“Why? You said your hair was wet.”

“You just want to touch Violet’s hair, Benedict. Isn’t that right?” Lux Sibyl, who had given up on wiping her glasses and was glaring at the empty space.

“That’s not it. Don’t say weird stuff, Lux.”

“You knooow, my hair’s just as long as Violet’s.” And Cattleya Baudelaire, who scowled at Benedict with her arms crossed.

The members who had been there ever since the founding were Violet, Cattleya and Benedict, but Lux, having joined midway, was now a skillful secretary who covered up the schedule of the employees and president and moved them around like chess pieces. As the four people whose ages were close to each other’s came together, the conversation naturally livened up.

“You—You’re that kinda thing. If I touch you in a place like this, it’d be that kinda thing. This is our workplace, so there’s all that kinda thing. Morally speaking, it’s that kinda thing.”

“What do you mean ‘morally speaking’?!”

“I wish you wouldn’t say those things even if you think about them. Right, Violet?”

“‘Public morals’...? Benedict, what am I from your point of view?”

“V, you’re like a little sister to me... Aah, Old Man, gimme another towel.”

It was a terribly joyful thing that the company’s young aces had returned to it safe and sound.

“Everyone, don’t move from that spot no matter what. Hey, Cattleya! Don’t move!”

However, wiping all the water off the bodies of those four turned out to be a bone-breaking work.

Out of kindness, Hodgins invited the four people who had gathered up at the postal company to his residence in the top floor.

The whole floor was his apartment, thus it was quite large. A family of five could live comfortably in it. The furnishings were arranged in wooden items and serene shades of dark brown and green. It was a relaxed, adult atmosphere, where was nothing particularly funny. It had a faint scent of the perfume that Hodgins always wore.

The invited four let out sighs of relief. The biggest reason for it, although there was also the fact that this was Hodgins’s apartment, was that they were able to escape the horrible situation outdoors. With the exception of Lux, three of them were tough enough to take part in the act of physically crushing other postal companies, but human beings could not win against natural disasters.

“Hey, what do we do? We can’t go home anymore, can we?”

“There’s nothing we can do. We got no choice but stay in Old Man’s place.”

“First time something like this happens, huh. But we’re all together, so... might be imprudent of me to say this, but... it’s a bit fun. Violet, are you worried about your home?”

“Yes, about the flowerbeds.”

“You should say ‘about the people back home’, V.”

“The two went on a trip, so they are away. I promised that I would take care of the flowers in their absence, which is why... I am worried about the flowerbeds. Besides, if that house were to be destroyed by this storm, this place would meet its end much sooner... We have little time left to live.”

“Don’t go from talking about your family to destroying the company, Little Violet. Hey, hey, everyone, you’ll catch a cold so get changed first. Put the towels in the laundry basket. Benedict, don’t throw the towels wherever!”

As told by Hodgins, the employees firstly decided to change their clothes.

Violet and Cattleya had just returned from a work trip of two days and one night, thus they had a change of nightclothes in their bags, but Benedict and Lux did not. Although there was a height difference between them, Hodgins had no issues with lending clothes to Benedict, who was also a man, but there was a need for careful selection when it came to Lux.

“Shirt... shirt, shirt; all I have is shirts.”

“Hum, President, I’m fine with anything.”

“Eeh... that okay?”

As a result, the boy and girl came into the scene wearing baggy clothes. Benedict looked almost the same as when he and Hodgins first met. When he was left to chance completely naked in a desert, he had borrowed a shirt and trousers just as he was doing now. He seemed pleased with it, however...

“Feels kinda naughty...”

...the problem was Lux.

“Benedict’s fine, but maybe it won’t do for Little Lux? Is this okay?” Hodgins asked everyone with a meek face.

They all had at last settled down, each seated in a place of their preference while sipping tea. The employees were relaxing as if they were in their own homes. Contrary to the peaceful state of the situation inside, there was still a sound of rain hitting the windows and a troubled noise of something colliding against the building outside.

“What is ‘okay’ supposed to mean?” Sitting on the sofa, Violet tilted her head. Being comfortably dressed in a dusty-pink nightwear gave her usually disciplined self a slightly soft and gentle air.

“Little Violet.”

“Yes.”

“Your nightgown is cute, huh.”

“The people from the household bought it for me. Well, what is ‘okay’ supposed to mean? Was there any problem?”

“Little Lux’s clothes.”

For whatever reason, they had the person in question standing in the center of the room. With everyone’s eyes on her, she seemed uneasy.

“Hum... why do I have to stand in the middle?”

“Little Lux, stay like that and don’t move.”

“All right.”

“What is wrong with Lux’s look? You mean to say it lacks adornment?”

“Why would that be the case, Little Violet?”

“You are the one who chooses attires for us Dolls and you have particularities regarding the clothing and accessories, so I concluded that you might deem the plain shirt as not enough.”

“No, no.” Hodgins flailed both hands. The things he was saying had a moral value to them, out of fear that her outfit was perhaps vulgar.

Benedict had dealt with it by securing her trousers with a belt, but as Lux had too thin a waist, the outcome was the belt falling off. In short, she was not wearing pants. Inevitably, she was dressed in nothing but a shirt. However, her short stature fortunately made it look like a shirt-dress.

As Hodgins explained his concern, everyone said, “I see.”

Showered with their stares more and more, Lux began to blush.

“It gives off a dangerous feeling when you think she ain’t wearing any, but on second thought, isn’t that the same for skirts? There’s actually an open hole in them, but it’s not visible, so they’re classified as clothes. No big deal, is it?” Benedict had been standing with his back against the wall just a moment ago, yet had suddenly drawn close to her and started examining her fixatedly.

“Don’t say ‘not wearing any’!”

“Well, I mean, you really ain’t wearing any... but that’s okay. No biggie. You’re probably not an option for Old Man, so no worries. Right?”

“That’s rude!”

“I’m saying you don’t need to worry about that kinda thing... Should I take mine off, then? I see; I’m fine with it. I’ll be the same as you. That all right? I’m gonna take it off.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” As Benedict put a hand to his belt while laughing, Lux repeatedly hit his chest with her fists to stop him. Lux was red up to her ears. “I can’t take this anymore! Violet! Take Benedict to over there!”

“Understood.”

“Owowowow, V, ouch, that’s not it; it was the Old Man who said weird stuff first. We’re friends, so I was showing that she doesn’t have to get hung up over something like...”

Caught in Violet’s arms, Benedict obediently sat on the sofa. Perhaps in order not to allow him to escape, she gripped his hands and sat next to him.

Cattleya cut through the silence, “The tea is delicious.” She was scattered over the bed. She must have been tired from returning from the Doll business trip. Her eyes were downcast. She might be sleepy.

“Cattleya, do you not have any comments to make? I want to hear lots of opinions.”

“Eeeh, me?” Cattleya joined the needless debate as if it were a bother. “Hmmm... if someone were making her wear this because it’s their taste, it’d be gross indeed, but there’s no other clothes for her... It’d also be horrible to leave her with just a towel wrap, so I think it’s valid. Speaking of which, President...”

“Hm?”

“You’re saying that even though you pick open-chested clothes for my Doll outfits? And the times you were choosing Doll attires for me, y’knooow, you were never so considerate to say ‘not this, not this either’ when discussing it with the people from the made-to-order store...”

Her manner of speech was somewhat thorny, but Hodgins did not make much out of it. “That’s because they look good on you.” Rather, he said decisively, with an earnest gaze and excessive confidence, “Because they look good on you. Is my judgement wrong?”

“E-Eh?” Being replied to so unapologetically, Cattleya’s reasoning jumbled up, to the point she found herself wondering if she was the one in the wrong.

The Doll outfit that Cattleya usually wore was composed mainly of a crimson dress-coat, so there was no mistaking that one could not wear it unless the person was remarkably stylish. In addition, there was also no doubt that it was lascivious. Whoever looked at her would find their line of sight momentarily going to her chest. Still, whoever looked at her would remember the woman named Cattleya Baudelaire at once.

“No... it’s not like your choices are wrong... but I only forgive you because you’re the boss. I was shocked when you first showed me that outfit! I didn’t use to wear something like that before.”

“Well, but y’see, an hourglass-shaped person looks more slender when the area around their collarbone is exposed, and it’s pretty.”

An evident question mark floated above Violet’s head at the unfamiliar word. Benedict pointed a finger at the tea set arranged on the nearby table. An hourglass used to measure the time it took to steam the tealeaves was lying there. Perhaps finding the similarity between it and a plump chest and dainty hips, Violet nodded as if convinced.

“You’ve got an hourglass-shaped figure with that slim waist, so I gave you a coat-dress that puts this on display. You can adjust it with the ribbon, so it’s not a pain, right? It has a wonderful line in mathematical terms, y’know? Plus, you also have a cheerful character, so it doesn’t look vulgar. That’s important. It means that outfit takes into consideration even the personality of the one wearing it. And the owner of that made-to-order store is famous not just in this country but abroad. The outfits of our Dolls are on a whole different level in comparison to other companies, aren’t they?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“I don’t want to bring this up, but they’re very expensive.”

“Eh, I’m sorry. S-Should I pay you back? Either that or you can dock my salary...”

“No, you’re my Doll, after all. Nobody waters a flower to get money off it, right? It’s fine, Cattleya. Just stay pretty. It’s exactly because I have obsessions over clothes that I don’t want to make a girl look vulgar. And it’s exactly because I like girls that I want to have them shine wonderfully. That’s also why I have a few complaints about Little Lux’s usual plain clothes, though...”

“I don’t know why you decided to run a mail service, President, but I accept that passion of yours. I’ll wear those clothes with care. But, President, I’m doing my best, so I want a new outfit. A cute one.”

Listening to the conversation of the two in silence, perhaps tired of going along with her superior, Lux looked at Violet and Benedict’s direction with a gaze that quietly asked for help. There was a gap on the sofa that seemed enough for one person to sit. Having locked eyes with her, Violet told Benedict to scoot over after a brief moment and patted the open spot. Lux sat next to them, looking happy.

“Violet, what’re you drinking?” Lux peeked at the teacup that Violet was holding.

“I wonder. I took the tealeaves that were in the kitchen. I do not know what type of tea it is.”

“Darjeeling.”

“Benedict, how did you know?”

“‘Cause that guy likes Darjeeling. All the tea cans he has are nothing but that.”

“Guess I’m gonna drink that too; my body got cold from the long time under the rain.”

“Heeey, the three of you who ended the talk before we noticed! Listen to what I have to say.” Hodgins put his hands on his hips, pretending to be angry.

“We were deviating from the main subject. We deemed that it was not a necessary conversation and took action prioritizing Lux’s rest,” Violet expressed with a clear voice tone.

“Besides, this talk’s about bedroom wear, ain’t it?” Benedict added a two-fold retort. The blond, blue-eyed duo that looked like siblings stared at Hodgins with questioning eyes.

“Ugh, I comply with you two no matter what you say when you both look at me at the same time, so cut it out. But I’m not giving up. I think she needs one more article of clothing.”

“Hum... President, I’m okay with this. I’m already thankful that I could borrow your clothes. Besides, when you make such a big fuss about it, things that weren’t lewd in the first place start to seem lewd, so to say,” Lux said, wanting to end this topic as fast as possible.

“The solution has come to me. Wouldn’t it be best if I took the shirt and trousers and had Lux wear this nightgown?”

However, Violet wound up rewinding it.

——Violet!

Lux hit Violet repeatedly in her mind.

“Ah~, that’s right. If that’s the case, I can do it too. But maybe my nightgown is too big? It’s a negligee just like Violet’s. The shoulder length might be the problem for this one...”

“Old Man, you gonna die if you don’t obsess over the stuff we wear? You ain’t. Give up.”

“No way. Days like this one don’t come by. All five of us are trapped in the company and we can’t get out. You’ve got no choice but stay here in my house, right? We’re having the best of parties, a pajama party. I want it to be a good one. But I can’t enjoy it when I’m worrying over Little Lux’s clothes.”

Benedict contemplated a reply to Hodgins’s words for a few seconds, but soon stopped. He was probably tired. He looked Violet’s way and asked, “Hey, you not hungry? I’m gonna take a look at the kitchen.

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” As Benedict stood up, Hodgins chased after him.

“Benedict’s gonna make something? Yay! You guys probably don’t know this, but he’s good at cooking.” Cattleya lined up behind them.

“I didn’t say I was gonna make anything, though... Well, if you’re hungry, I can do it.”

“I shall assist you.” Violet raised her arms, rolling up her sleeves. Her prosthetics made a creaking noise.

“V, you can cook?”

“To some extent. In the military, I used to make preparations for the cooking. Mrs. Evergarden... Lady Tiffany also trained me on it.

“M-Me too... I can peel the potatoes, and stuff.” Lux hastily went after everyone. In a trail, a big move to the kitchen began to take place.

“Lux. You don’t usually cook, do you? I can already tell by just that statement. I’ll teach you.”

“Most things get solved just by peeling the potatoes... Benedict, you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Am not, Potato Demigod.”

“Violet, Benedict insulted me!”

“Benedict.”

“Owowow! V—! Don’t poke my sides! A hit from those crazy-ass prosthetics of yours ain’t no cutesy way to poke anyone! It just hurts like it normally would!”

In the end, Hodgins was able to find a light feather-print sweater in his closet and gave it to Lux. As she put it on, with her short stature, its length became the same as that of a long cardigan, which Hodgins was awfully pleased with for how adorable it was.

The madder-red sky was not visible at dusk, the outside morphing into evening with no changes in the rainy weather.

Benedict made a soup at random with the vegetables available in Hodgins’s kitchen, which had seasonings in abundance, while Violet and Cattleya supplied it with cookies that they had brought back as souvenirs from their ghostwriting business trip. Lux brought over small candy marbles that she kept stored in her desk at the company, and Benedict, instructed by Hodgins, reluctantly took an expensive bottle hidden on the liquor shelf of the latter’s room.

“Hey, let’s rummage through the desks of everyone in the company. There are probably gonna be other ingredients in them.”

“If it’s Mr. Anthony’s desk, I think there’s definitely something in it. Mr. Anthony always gives me sweets... We’re in a state of emergency so I’m sure he’ll forgive us for it.”

“There were sweets in the reception guys’ desks. Would they get mad if we took them?”

“Definitely seem like they would. But this sweet... is one of the tasty ones... I wanna eat it.”

Lux, who was still growing, and Benedict, who had missed lunch and did not have enough with just the vegetable soup, procured more food. The sweets that the hungry thieves sneaked from the company employees’ desks turned out as what could be considered a big catch, and so, the five people trapped inside during a day of usual rain commenced a night party.

The five of different ages, genders and positions were already at a state where they could be deemed as a single family through the many incidents they had overcome and the time they had spent together. They laughed a lot, talked a lot.

“You remember when Violet brought Lux over? She went to negotiate it directly with Old Man with so much might, like, ‘I have picked up a puppy. Please give me permission to raise it here. Now, hurry’. They were holding hands and she wouldn’t let go of Lux, explaining the situation all at length as if to say she wasn’t gonna move until he gave the permission. The way Old Man acted so suspicious back then was a real blast.”

“I remember~! He was like, ‘Eh, “demigod”? Eh, “abduction and confinement”? Have you told the military police about that?’... President was so troubled, walking in circles around the two. It was the funniest thing of that year.”

“Hum... I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize, Little Lux. You’re our main player now, so you did what you could to get where you are. You really exerted yourself in this unfamiliar land. Work for us forever, ‘kay? Rather, for me. Little Violet does some unbelievable stuff sometimes, but she generally doesn’t do anything wrong, so back then, her first-time deed shook up even someone like me, with plenty of life experience. Saying no didn’t even cross my mind.”

“I knew that President Hodgins would give you a generous treatment. If I had not concluded so, I would not have done such a thing. Thank you very much for that time, President.”

“Little Violet... Little Violet’s all grown up too, huh; you’ve become a wonderful lady...”

“Well, she’s got you as her example of guardian figure, after all.”

“I was raised by both Benedict and President Hodgins. You are my examples.”

“Eh, so I’m Old Man’s son...? Gimme the whole company.”

“No way! Actually, you’re taking a part of the company in the future, so that much should be fine, right?”

“You were serious about that? If you split the company...”

“Yeah, I’ll be the vice-president. V, call me Vice-President Benedict.”

“Benedict will be... the vice-president?”

“Violet, you haven’t been to the company too often because of work, right? I’ll stay as President Hodgins’s secretary, but some of the employees will go to Benedict’s side. That’s gonna be pretty lonely... Still, the company will be built inside the country, so it’ll be close in terms of distance. But it won’t be the same building anymore.”

“Other people... will also be gone.”

“Did I tell you that my role’s gonna change too?”

“I have not heard about that.”

“I’ll be transferred to training the newcomers. Violet, you’ll stay as you are. Well, between you and me, if we were to debate on which one should be the instructor, it’d have to be me. I’m good at looking after others.”

“Cattleya will be... an instructor...”

“I’ll be here like always. The Doll department that Little Violet and the others are in will stay in the main office and you’re largely in charge of the numbers in our Doll department, so your role won’t change.”

“Sounds like I don’t make money when you put it like that.”

“No, it’s not like that... I’ve been keeping the right people in the right places since long ago, right? I asked you to do this because I thought you could be everyone’s big sis. Besides, wasn’t it you, Cattleya, who immediately replied that you’d to it when I said your pay would increase if you became an instructor?”

“Well, that’s because I don’t know how long I could keep on being a Doll. It’s a job you can do even when you get older, but walking up mountains has been hard lately. Probably because of my high heels.”

They truly laughed a lot and talked a lot.

In their feel-at-home looks, they played card games, discussed memories of their trips and laughed holding their stomachs at silly stories. The night went on and on and the heavy rain outside gradually subsided, but no one said, “Let’s go home, then”. Days like these were a rarity. They all knew this much.

“I’m having lots of fun today. It’d be great if it were always like this.” The words that Cattleya muttered with a big smile spoke for everyone’s feelings.

Whenever a fun feast reached its climax, the loneliness towards the fact that it was going to end would cross the corners of people’s heads. That applied not only to this day that God had granted them but also to matters in the long run.

Perhaps the company named CH Postal Company itself could also be considered a feast to the people gathered in it. “May this dream, this fun time go on forever,” they wished.

The dream had begun with Claudia Hodgins. He then picked up Cattleya Baudelaire, Benedict Blue and Violet Evergarden.

“Make sure to just lick it. So, how’s that?”

They had built the company office building in Leidenschaftlich and started it together. As the postal business was a privatized one and the competitors were many, nobody could predict at first for how long this company would continue to exist.

“This stings.”

A local customer then came, earning them a large-scale contract in the delivery business.

“Eh~, you okay, Violet? You’re better off as someone who can’t drink...”

Their Auto-Memories Doll activities began to stand out.

“But everyone is changing.”

“Doesn’t that have nothing to do with drinking alcohol? I drink ‘cause I like it. If you don’t, then stop.”

“That’s right, Violet.”

“No... Major has a taste for drinking during meals, so I had been thinking of learning to do it one day as well. You are all changing one after another whenever I blink. I have started eating with other people quite often at work as well. I, too, shall adapt...”

Along the way, a girl who would later become a brilliant secretary joined them.

“I see... Then I want to try drinking too. I’m a secretary, after all. I have to eat out with other people. What kind of taste is it, if you had to compare?”

Despite the major changes in the personal life of each, all of them had contributed to the development of the company, to the point that they spent every single day being busy.

“Close to that of a perfume. In that it is hard to swallow.”

There would surely be many, many more changes.

“Hey, I can’t approve that opinion. Big Sis here will introduce you to delicious drinks. Rather than being taught by a man, you should learn from me. Lux, you can’t yet.”

Surely, their fates would twist further.

“Eh~?!”

“Benedict, bring another one. And something to crack it open with.”

For people to gather up, an encounter had to have happened. That was what it meant.

“Aight, aight...” Benedict stood up from the sofa. He had been dragged into Cattleya’s scheme, in which she had planned the conspiracy of attempting to make Violet Evergarden consume alcohol, because he himself had complied with it.

“O-Owah. Old Man. You were here?”

“‘Were here,’ you ask... this is my house.”

As they came across each other in the kitchen, Benedict had let out a brash voice without thinking. The reason might be that he perhaps was seen grinning as he walked in. Despite his nihilistic attitude, he was happy to spend time with his friends.

“I-I know. I was thinking you were taking too long in the toilet...”

“Cigar.”

With the kitchen’s small window open, Hodgins was smoking a cigar. All of the women despised the smell, so he rarely ever let them see him smoking. Just when Benedict was thinking about how he had suddenly stood up and disappeared, there he was, smoking in secret.

——He only smokes when he can’t calm down, though.

There was no better day to relax with their companions, and yet.

“Hey, take a look outside. It’s so quiet after the storm... like the wind. Even though it was so loud before.” Perhaps due to him being a little drunk, Hodgins’s face was red.

“True... Hey, need more booze. Ain’t there anything easier to drink?”

“Eh, why? You can’t give it to Little Lux.”

“Cattleya wants to make V drink some. Well, ain’t it okay? I think it’s about time she learns the ropes. Dunno when we’ll get to drink with her again... and it’s better to have people you get along with teaching you this kinda thing, right?”

“Eeh... it’s still too soon. If you insist, isn’t it enough to drip a drop of rum into her tea?”

“Can you even call that a drink? Make it a degree higher.”

Hodgins gave a strained smile. “Hey, hey, her big brother figure shouldn’t be saying this...”

“I say it because I’m her big brother figure. I mean, we’re getting more rookies. She’s the highlight of our Doll department. Eating with people is part of having a big job. Before she gets involved with someone who wants to make her drink...”

“Does this have anything to do with me telling you to be the branch manager?”

Hearing a slightly icy voice coming from the president, Benedict blinked. “No... sorta.”

“She’s still a child, and I’ll definitely always be with her in those kinds of places, so it’s okay. It’s still early to teach her how to drink. Nope, nope.”

“A ‘child’, you say... well, she’s got a childish side, but she ain’t one anymore.”

“She is – you, Cattleya and Little Lux, too, are all kids to me. Because you’re quick to do this kind of thing if I don’t keep an eye on you... My, my,” Hodgins said, blowing out the tobacco smoke. Mismatched as it was for someone with such a mature appearance, Benedict could get a glimpse of childishness in him.

“You’ll keep trying to do that from now on too? That’s impossible; face the reality,” Benedict bit out incidentally.

Silence.

Benedict’s words were not wrong. The CH Postal Company was growing rapidly as a business. The fact that the postal company led by Salvatore Rinaudo had withdrawn from the postal industry in the previous year had a major influence in this. They now reigned at a pivotal position in Leidenschaftlich’s postal service. The CH Postal Company would soon account for nearly all of the commissions from the people living in Leidenschaftlich. Other than being busy with work affairs, there were even discussions about relocating the head office because of problems with waiting areas and break rooms due to securing new employees.

“Like, you and I are gonna get damn busy. The Auto-Memories Doll department is gonna be the main organ of the head office and my place will be ordinary mail, right? We’ll be teaching people how things go, and I’ll be doing deliveries too. You’re the one with the busiest role. Anything and everything’s gonna be relayed to you. Getting to be close to your employees like until now while doing all that is just...”

It was natural for a company that had become bigger to do a corporative split-off and for one of their employees to manage the branch office. Benedict was still young but had the power to bring people together. The task would not be an impossible one if they put a veteran of the head office in charge of taking over it. They could do this, Hodgins had decided, thus he came up with the proposal.

“The regular meetings and other stuff that I take part in happen in the head office... It’s not like we won’t get to see each other.”

“Everyone will have a different post and position. We won’t get to see each other. Same for you, Old Man.”

“If it’s work, I can adjust it. I’ll do my best to administrate everyone so that the employees can get a time every now and then to relax like this...”

“Old Man, even if you do your best, V’s dating that nasty-ass military officer, so won’t they get married someday? Dunno ‘bout it, but... that’s why it’s impossible to always watch over us in the first place...”

Silence.

“Hey, don’t clam up.”

What was being thrust at Hodgins now was something that he did not want to look straight at, despite thinking about and readying himself for it. That was what he was being told.

“Hodgins – hey, Old Man.”

It was something that Benedict Blue had the right to say, exactly because they had been doing everything together from the start.

“Hey, don’t take it in a weird way. I ain’t saying this to be malicious. You left the Auto-Memories Doll department in the head office ‘cause your wish to watch over V is a big deal, right? I get it. She’s special to you.”

“That’s not it; I—”

“But she won’t be a kid forever. She’s different from back when she started working, with you teaching her everything. She’s someone who’s gonna let go of your hand one day. She ain’t your real daughter or your girlfriend. Then, if you had to say what she is, at the end of the day, she’s your employee. You’ll part ways one day. If you don’t get ready for that now, will you manage to get over it if she marries into that bastard’s family and he makes her leave the company?”

“Will you manage to get over it?” The question ruminated in Hodgins’s heart.

Benedict had shot him where it hurt without mercy. He was a gun expert. His aim was precise and the bleeding made Hodgins want to hold his own chest down.

——Will I recover if I ever have to be separated from Violet Evergarden? Hodgins pondered earnestly over the question. ——I don’t know.

He truly did not know.

Bonds were things that could not easily break off once they had connected, yet reality, time and busyness unpityingly caused the existence of “friends” to grow far apart.

——To the point that I don’t know, I...

Surely, a day like this would not happen five years from now. Their place to return to amidst the rain would be somewhere else.

——It’s not just her, but also you and everyone else.

To begin with, they might not even be working in the company itself anymore until then. More of them would fall for someone, nurture their love and move their places to be in life to their “homes”.

Twenty, thirty years from now, it might be hard for them to even work. Or they would not be alive – there was also that possibility.

The one who was more aware of this than anybody else was Hodgins, the oldest of them all.

——I’m the one who’s farthest apart in age.

That was exactly why he did not know.

“I have no idea.”

He did not want to see it. Did not want to think about it.

“I have too many things that matter to me, so I can’t make a move anymore. Y’know, you... you might aught at this, but... rather than when you’re young, getting hurt becomes scarier when you grow older. You start losing the energy to do your best and heal. It’s tiring. Still...”

Hodgins had thought that the youth in front of him, who referred to him as “Old Man” on a daily basis, was probably going to laugh, yet Benedict was expressionless.

“Still...”

He did nothing but listen. His posture of properly listening at times like these somewhat...

——...looks like Little Violet.

“Still, I know I’m the one who has to get moving the most. I’m getting everyone involved in the things I wanna do. That’s why I do what I have to. I also counted on you, because I trust you. I left it in your care. But... that and my feelings for her and you guys...”

“I get it.”

“...are different things, right? Y’know, you’re... mean. I’m like a foster parent to you, and yet... Even if you understand my loneliness...”

While Hodgins spoke as if bursting out, Benedict put a hand to his mouth as though to stop him. “I get it.”

Time halted completely.

Was he supporting the flustered figure of the one who was like a parent to him?

“My bad.”

Before he had noticed, he was carrying a load of things he must protect. Was he doing this due to realizing that he had left Hodgins to chance, thinking, “That’s because it’s him”?

“My bad. That just now was on me.”

Silence.

“I didn’t have to pick today to say this. Isn’t that right?”

“You think I’m being lame right now, don’t you?”

“Nah, you ain’t all that cool in the first place.”

“That’s a lie; I’m a generally-acknowledged beautiful young man... no, beautiful middle-aged man.”

“You might not be cool, but well, that’s what’s good about you. Right?”

Silence.

“The cool thing about my Claudia Hodgins is his uncool side.”

Since Benedict was speaking as if to comfort a child, Hodgins told him to “shut up”, slightly annoyed, yet burst into laughter nevertheless.

The rain caused all sorts of things to pour. The way that people were drowned by the drops trickling down from the sky inevitably made them think about something.

As dawn broke, Claudia Hodgins sat up, body heavy from not getting much sleep. When he peeked at his room’s bed, Violet and Cattleya were sleeping wrapped in the same blanket. On the sofa, Benedict was scattered about, snoring in a way that made him want to laugh.

Hodgins looked for where Lux Sibyl might be. He went down from the third to the second floor, and then from the second to the first floor. She was nowhere to be found.

While thinking it could not be possible, Hodgins opened the front door, and sure enough, he could see the figure of a girl walking down the street towards him.

The clothes she had put to dry yesterday were surely half-wet. What was it that she wanted to do outside so badly to the point of going this far? He understood when he saw what she had in her arms.

“Ah, President.”

Lux was holding a paper bag with a lot of bread in it. The amount was enough that the small girl’s face could not be seen.

“Little Lux... could it be you went to buy us breakfast?”

Thinking back, this young woman was the kind of person who was always quick to act when she was trying to do something for someone. That was all it took to be a considerate person, but without kindness in their heart, they would not turn out this way. The reason why Hodgins had nominated her his secretary was not just that she could do any sort of work.

“That’s so nice.”

“Yes, the bakery owner is very nice. I woke up a bit too early, and when I went on a walk to see how things were outside, the bakery was just about to open and they were getting ready... I went to take a look ‘cause it seemed so delicious and they told me to come in.”

“Ah, hm...”

“I was so touched when they said they baked bread for people who were hungry early in the morning, so I told them many thanks for selling them and bought lots of it. It’s the bakery from that street around the corner.”

“As expected of my secretary. Did you properly get the receipt?”

At those words, Lux showed him a smile that resembled a blooming flower. “Huhu, of course.”

For Hodgins, who had spent the night deep in thought about all sorts of things, that smile was a soothing one. It was like the water of a lake for someone who was feeling thirsty.

Hodgins wordlessly took the bag from Lux. “Little Lux, I’m seriously glad you came to us.”

“Only in this kind of situation, right?”

“All the time. Always. Little Lux, you’re still young, will probably keep working with us... and you’re such a good secretary... I’m the happiest CEO in Leidenschaftlich.”

“Are you going to hire me for life?”

“Eh?”

“Is that a no?”

“No, I could. But that’d mean working with me for life, y’know?”

“Is that bad? I have nowhere else to go.”

When asked with such an innocent look, Hodgins faltered.

“I won’t say the stuff Benedict does, like wanting the company for me.”

“Well, I might... end up giving it to you if you say that, so don’t ever. Hahah... Of course, keep working for us forever and always at my place. Huh, this is kinda like a marriage vow... Wanna take this opportunity and marry me in the future? Just kidding...” Upon thinking that the jest that came out incidentally was an unsavory one right after saying it, Hodgins looked at Lux’s reaction, only to find her staring back at him blankly. He had made himself into a caricature of an old man bothering a girl. “No, it was a prank! But hey. Little Lux, you might be the only one who can go along with me, so having this kind of small talk is... I-I’m not looking at you with dirty eyes, really! We’re too far apart in age, after all! We’re c-close enough that we can crack this kind of joke to each other, right?”

Lux pretended to think for just a few seconds. “Huhu, I can tell. That it’s a joke, at least. But not happening. We’re not getting married.”

And then, she flat-out rejected him.

“Ah, yes.” Although Hodgins would have been at loss if she had accepted it, his shoulders dropped somewhat.

“But President, I’m prepared to nurse you if you ever become unable to work.”

“Don’t... suddenly thrust such a cruel reality at me.”

“Eh, is it? From my point of view... this is quite a deep form of love. President, you’re the first decent adult who accepted me. I’ll devote my whole life to you.”

“Little Lux, you sure like me a lot. Gonna marry me after all?”

This time, Lux actually grinned and replied, “I’ll take that one home and consider it.”

“Amazing; that answer’s like the business talk at the company.”

“Because you’re teasing me... even though you’re well-aware that I don’t even know love yet.”

“Don’t know love yet”. The destructive power of those words caused Hodgins to regret his lighthearted proposal a little.

“Then, I’ll ask again in about five years. I should be at a nice middle age by then.”

“You say that, President, but you’re going on a trip with some hottie next week. I know it.”

The duo, who somehow seemed like they would or other be hanging together for a long time, returned to the office with bouncing chatter.

In order to make breakfast for everyone together, Hodgins and Lux stood in the kitchen by themselves.

Besides the already-baked bread, they would need drinks and vegetables. Those were merely simple preliminary preparations, but Hodgins felt that just this was somehow enjoyable, unlike doing the work on his own.

“President, you have yours with one sugar cube and a slice of lemon, right?”

“And for Little Lux, it’s two sugar cubes with milk, yeah? I know it.”

While arranging the bread on a plate, they also poured water over the tealeaves and left them to steam. Perhaps due to the scenery that could be seen from the kitchen’s small window being a blue sky with not a single cloud in it, it was awfully dazzling.

“Good morning.”

The next person who appeared amidst the morning sunlight was Violet. Her soft golden hair was just a bit disheveled. Hodgins’s hand naturally reached out to it.

“Morning... You’ve got a bedhead, Little Violet.”

“Excuse me...” Violet looked back at Hodgins as he caressed her head, seeming a little embarrassed. Her eyes were just slightly red. She might have not been able to sleep very well.

“Morning, Violet. Are Cattleya and Benedict also up?”

“Benedict was awake until a while ago, but when I got up from the bed, he began sleeping again by Cattleya’s side.”

“Morally speaking, it’s that kinda thing. I’ll go give him a warning.”

Hodgins laughed a little, seeing Lux off as she walked away while rotating her tiny shoulders. He then turned his gaze back to Violet. Her bedhead, which he had supposedly fixed with the caressing, had returned. For some reason, both of them being alone like this in a kitchen bathed in morning sunlight struck him as extremely peculiar.

Just the two of them, having such a tender time. How many more opportunities would they have for that?

They were already at it. He should talk about something. That was what Hodgins thought, but the words did not come out of him. Not because he had no topic to discuss. He could come up with as many things to talk about as he wanted, such wanting flowers to decorate the table or that they would surely have many customers today who were unable to come yesterday.

But he did not want to spoil this morning. He felt that it might crumble if he spoke even one sentence.

Violet was there. She had her blue eyes directed his way, looking at him. It was no longer awkward for the two of them to stay silent. That was their relationship.

Perhaps still sleepy, she was in a haze. He wanted to watch her standing amidst this gentle time for a little longer.

As she would usually always seem wide-awake, Hodgins believed that she was laidback to this extent due to being in the presence of people with whom she could be at ease from the bottom of her heart. That he had played a part in this feeling of security of hers.

——Will you forget one day?

One day, the position that Claudia Hodgins occupied in the life of Violet Evergarden would become smaller.

——She only gets bigger on my end, though.

Going to the hospital numerous times. Pushing her wheelchair. Giving her a notebook and teaching her how to write.

——I for sure can’t forget. These moments, days, everything like this with you.

The fact that he had not stopped her from fighting in the war. That he had thought they could use her.

——I can’t forget.

Delivering to Violet an outfit that could hide her prosthetic arms, yet that would also make her look her most beautiful.

——I’m sure I won’t forget about this morning either.

About that quiet morning, which was much like the one from before everyone was caught in the great storm and barged in.

Hodgins touched Violet’s hair again. Although she had told Benedict not to touch it, with Hodgins, she all but slightly left a strand in his hand’s care and let him take it, almost like how a cat would do.

——Aah, I want to hug you.

He was not in love with her. That would never be the case.

However, if she were his real daughter, on days like these, mornings like these, he would have easily said, “Good morning, precious” and embraced her.

“I had a dream, President Hodgins,” Violet whispered out of the blue with a freshly awake, faintly hoarse voice.

“Dream...?”

The stunning young woman, who was no longer a girl, talked about her dream like a child, “Yes; in the dream... you owned a clothing store.”

“Huhu, that so?”

“I cannot make clothes. You told me that you did not need me, President Hodgins, if I could not make clothes...”

“That’s horrible of me, huh.”

“Even when I said I could polish the shoes, clean up or do anything, you did not listen...”

Unlike the real one, the dream version of Hodgins had apparently chosen to part ways with Violet.

“Little Violet, what did you do about that?”

“I asked countless times. However, you rejected it countless times. I thought about standing in front of the shop until you allowed me in, but it started raining like yesterday.”

“Hm. And then?”

“Major Gilbert came to pick me up and told me to come home with him, but...”

“Hm.”

“I waited for President to come out of the store even as the lights went out.”

“Hm.”

“Despite waiting and waiting, President Hodgins did not come out, and at some point, a passerby told me, ‘This shop has moved’.”

“Even though it was open until just a moment ago?”

“It was a dream, after all... And then – and then, I asked where it was and went after it. Benedict and Cattleya also appeared in-between, but they seemed to have other things to do, saying they would come after me later... As for Lux, she was the only one who had been hired by you from the very beginning, so she also asked you to hire me again, but in the end, you said no could do.”

“Hm...” Suddenly, Hodgins felt so pained about everything that it was hard to breathe. “And then, Little Violet, what did you do...?” His hand reached out to Violet.

“I kept looking at the interior of the store beyond the shop window from outside.”

Not towards her head, but towards her eyes, where her golden lashes fluttered like the wings of a fairy.

“Inside it, many people – people that I know and do not know – came and left... showing how lively the shop was.”

A sea had silently formed in them, which dissolved and disappeared once Hodgins’s index finger touched it.

“Major came to pick me up for the nth time and said you had told him that my standing there was causing him problems. But, for whatever reason, I at the very least knew that if I stepped away from there even for a moment, you would never let me in... therefore, I could not comply. But I did not want to trouble you, President, so I was unable to make a decision... I attempted to ask Major for instructions, but he was also gone before I realized.”

The sea – the teardrop – turned into a pearl and slipped down her cheek.

“I... I... ended up crying.” Violet stared at the sky, the look in her eyes seeming almost as if the scene from her dream was there at this very moment. “To think I would cry like that...”

“Hm.”

“That was why President Hodgins would not hire me, I thought... And also why Major had grown tired and left.”

“Hm.”

“Then, without my notice, you came outside. You looked the same as that post-war day when you went to visit me at the hospital. You were very surprised with my appearance, as I was soaked with mud and rain. And so, you said this: ‘Guess we’ll start with how to hold a needle’. You told me that you had not invited me for the new job because it would surely be difficult with these hands of mine, so I was extremely relieved... Then, then...” Violet’s words cut off at once.

Unable to hold himself back, Hodgins pulled her into an embrace as if shoving her little head into his chest.

While being embraced, Violet said with eyes that looked as though she was still dreaming, “...with some effort, I could still be helpful. I was able to confirm this, after all.”

Hearing her let out a relieved sigh in his arms, Hodgins forgot about both his and Violet’s positions, clasping her to his chest very, very firmly. “You sure are helpful... Was there anything about me that made you feel uncertain?” Upon realizing that his voice sounded tearful, Hodgins allowed the tears to overflow at the truth.

——Aah, I’m such an idiot. Got caught up in it and ended up crying too.

As the girl whom he thought of as his own daughter, despite her being an actual adult, had shed tears, he found himself crying along with her. Almost like a child. Even though he was supposed to conduct himself as an elder in this situation.

“I do not know.”

“But, has anything like that ever happened until now...? You had that dream because you were uneasy.”

“‘Uneasy’... That might have been the case. Yesterday night, I came to know that many things were progressing while I was away, so I have the feeling that I was quite agitated.”

“Sorry; we were doing things on our own accord. Even though we’ve been together since the founding.”

“No, I am often absent, and it is only natural for some things to be decided in the meantime. I am an employee. I feel that your judgement is correct. Employees must correspond to the changes of a company. My surroundings are about to change significantly. I am grateful to you, President, for letting me be here like always. However...”

“‘However’...?”

“However, I do not know if I can cope with it. With the matters regarding Major, the ones regarding the company... with the fact that Benedict will be going to a different office building. When I think about these things...”

“It’s okay.”

“When I think about them, I realize that the number of things I should prioritize has increased too much.”

“Little Violet.”

“The order of priorities...”

“It’s all right.”

“I have to deal with situations of every kind as I live, and yet...”

——Surely, Violet Evergarden wouldn’t be alive if she didn’t do that.

Always, at all times.

She had been living through corresponding to her surroundings despite being at loss regarding its circumstances, putting everything she could do to use while looking for a place to belong and an adult who would take care of her. She was not allowed to waver. For beasts, hesitation was death.

Violet did not know unconditional love. She now had at last earned herself this warm place through her efforts, but it was about to suffer a rapid change with the course of time.

After running, running and running, Violet – previously one such beast – was watching the nest she had finally found crumble down. Even when people knew they had to prepare to start running again, there would come a time when they would be short of breath and unable to move.

Violet had gone from wild animal to person.

Her human parts and animal parts co-existed, occasionally revealing themselves. When she was the animal, she simply did not mind how much a place changed as long as she could live in it. However, it was difficult to live while holding something better, more important.

Now that she had become a person through the increasing of her emotions...

“I shall fight. I can always be of use. President Hodgins, please forget this aspect of me that I just showed you.”

...she had turned into just a girl who was a little bit scared of the future.

“Please... forget about it.”

Who had made her this way? Gilbert was likely the first, but the ones who had done the finishing touches were definitely all the people in this place.

“No way, I’m not forgetting.”

At Hodgins’s words, Violet lowered her eyebrows, looking troubled.

“Don’t make a face like that; I’m not teasing. I meant to say that you don’t need to worry about it. You indeed might’ve gotten weak. But is that a bad thing? You had nothing when you met me for the first time. Not even your brooch, right...? But now you have lots of things. You went on a journey for a long time and got more stuff to shoulder while you were at it, so it’s no wonder that you’d end up in a dilemma.” Albeit knowing that Cattleya, Benedict and Lux were looking at them in shock from the shadows at the doorway, Hodgins went on, “You know... life is a journey. Little Violet, you’ll go on this journey, won’t you?”

He had already forgotten about his anxiety. The feeling of frustration at such things and the overwhelming wish to cling to someone were now gone.

“You started your journey with a little less luggage than other people, so you’re staring at your bag now that it’s gotten a bit heavy, wondering what happened to it. You don’t know what to throw away anymore.”

He was able to think, from the depths of his heart, that he had returned to his usual self. While embracing her, who was indeed still young and confused in the middle of her journey, he was finally able to think so.

“You need clothes and money, of course, and good shoes are vital. Right, and an umbrella too. When you look into your bag and realize that you actually have nothing that you can get rid of, it’s indeed a problem. Even though it’s a hassle because it’s so heavy. What do you think you should do?”

He could still be useful.

“Train... my physical strength... No, calibrate my prosthetics...”

He was still needed.

“You’re such a fool... Either leave it in someone’s care and continue the journey or have someone take half of it.”

Even if it were only for a short while.

“Gilbert will probably take half of the luggage. I can take care of the rest that you can’t carry over here. I’ll be in Leidenschaftlich forever, after all. Little Violet, no matter where you go, I’ll stay here and wait for you to come back, and no matter when you come over, I’ll welcome you. I’ll take care of the contents of your bag with pleasure.”

——Even if you only remember me a few times a year someday...

“Listen up: whenever you’re troubled, remember that I’m here. And then you’ll be able to go on a journey again anytime.”

——...I’ll ready myself to welcome you at any time of the year.

“Am I really supposed to leave my luggage here?”

——I’m the kind of man who can do that, and you need it for sure.

“Hm-hm, that’s not it. Y’see, this is about memories. All you have to do is to know. That I’m here. This is the way to make your luggage lighter. Whenever you’re having problems, bam, remember me. If you do that, the worries you have now will definitely decrease a little. Y’know, at the end of the day... people’s place to come home to aren’t places, they’re ‘somebody’. You should know that much. You’d have gone to any battlefield if Gilbert was there, right? Someday, yes, you might quit being an Auto-Memories Doll. You might not come back to Leidenschaftlich.”

——It’ll be great if this “someday” never comes, though.

“But your current memories are with me. I’ll be a representation of them. So that you, my dear... will be able to open your memories anytime. When this moment right now becomes nostalgic to you, come see me. I’ll always be here. Waiting for you. You’re feeling ‘lonely’ right now. But... Little Violet. You have me. You’re not alone.”

——I want you to remember.

“I do not understand very well... However...”

——I’m always protecting you.

“...you have always guided me.”

——Waiting for your return.

“I never doubt your word.”

——I’ll be waiting here.

“But, President Hodgins, I have only one wish.”

——I want you to show up when your journey ends.

Deciding to deal with the sobbing coming from behind the door later, Hodgins opted for staying like this for just a bit longer. Her lover might get angry if he saw it, but he had the right to do it, at least to some extent. After all, she was Claudia Hodgins’s dear employee.

Hodgins asked with a particularly gentle tone, “What would it be, Little Violet?”

Violet blinked and looked up at Hodgins. The last drop spilled from her eyes.

“If, only if... there comes a time when you will quit the postal company and start doing something else...”

“Hm.”

“...please call me. No matter where you are, I will rush to you.”

“Hm.”

“I will definitely be of help... Even if not, should your luggage become too much, please call me when you need someone to carry it for you. I shall hasten to visit you.”

“For real?”

“Yes. I, too, will carry President’s luggage. You should know it. I am strong.”

“Huhu, yep, definitely. One day, you’ll understand what I mean by ‘luggage’. Hey...”

“Hiya, I’m Hodgins. What’s your name?”

Silence.

“This kid’s such a taciturn.”

“She... doesn’t have a name yet. She’s an orphan with no education. Can’t talk either.”

“That’s so terrible of you. She’s such a beauty. Just give a name worthy of her.”

“Little Violet, thanks for meeting me.”

Love was almost like rain.

#violet evergarden #fyeahvioletevergarden #veedit #kyoani #kyoto animation #violet evergarden ever after #claudia hodgins #benedict blue #cattleya baudelaire #lux sibyl #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #my translation #novel

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

Text

Clean - John Winchester Smut

The one where John’s your best friend’s father

Warnings: smut, age gap, rough sex, oral sex (f), p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, curse words

A/N: Day 6 of kinktober and I’m really exhausted and low. But here it is. Hope you guys like it. The prompts were overstimulation and bestfriend’s father.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I could feel his eyes on me from across the room. It was difficult not to, especially when it felt like my body was so perfectly attuned to his, permanently in search for his attention. But of course, because things couldn’t be easy, not only was he thirty years older than me, he was also my best friend’s father.

Sammy wasn’t even my age, which made it worse. Even he was older than me, as we’d met in college, where I’d been accepted even before I was of legal age. And now that we’d ran into each other after I lost everything and everyone I knew to a werewolf pack, he felt like it was his responsibility to take care of me, which is how I ended up in his family’s bunker, permanently stuck with him, his older brother Dean, their friend Cas - who was an angel - and their father, John. The muse behind every wet dream I’d ever had since our eyes had first met.

Life with the Winchesters - and Cas - wasn’t hard or bad. Most of the time I stayed at the bunker, perfectly content in helping with research - it was my favorite activity, after all. John had been scared of allowing me to join them on their hunts, saying I needed actual training that they couldn’t quickly provide, but these last few weeks had found us alone with each other more often than not, his hands over mine as he taught me how to pull the trigger of a gun.

That part was hard, ignoring how his touch made me feel electrified when he was so close, holding my hands in front of my body from behind and directing them towards a designated target, but not as hard as the cock I felt straining his jeans and rubbing against my backside in those same moments.

We never spoke of it, both pretending to not notice, but we knew better. And that’s precisely why I allowed him to run off into his bedroom immediately after our training sessions, without accompanying him to offer my help in return.

He was my best friend’s father. I shouldn’t. But fuck did I want to.

So that’s why these last few days, it felt like the temperature had been steadily rising between us, to the point where it seemed like we’d both burn up into flames at any moment. John had gotten back from a hunt five days ago and still hadn’t offered to meet me in a training session, something that struck me as weird, but I didn’t want to bother him, so I never asked for it, opting to simply wait for his invitation.

Now, I could feel him staring at me from across the room, and as much as I wanted to ask why, I didn’t. I just kept my head down as I tried to concentrate on the research Sam asked me to help him with.

Just as I was about to finally be able to focus, though, Dean decided to disturb the peaceful atmosphere.

“Who wants to go to the bar?” It was an invitation made strictly out of politeness. He’d long ago given up on ever getting me to leave the bunker to “relax” in that kind of loud atmosphere, so I just granted him a sheepish smile, to which he chuckled. “Alright, I got it. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Sam, what about you?”

My best friend’s head whipped up from the book he was reading at the mention of his name, and it took him some time to tune in into what Dean was talking about. When he did, much to everyone’s surprise, he actually nodded, closing his book and stretching up. “Sure, I think I deserve some rest after this week. Are you sure I can’t convince you to join us, Y/N?”

John’s P.O.V.

She smiled, but shook her head at my boys.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun. Besides, anytime you take me with you, someone ends up having to babysit me, and I’m sure the main reason you want to go out is to find someone to spend the night with, right?” Sam blushed, but didn’t deny. Dean, on the other hand, always my son, just chuckled, no embarrassment in his features.

“Well, a man’s gotta live.” What he didn’t add was that if she offered, he’d exchange all the skanks in the world for a chance to be with her. The only person who didn’t take notice in his obvious crush for her was her.

There was another thing that remained unspoken while the boys prepared to leave the bunker. The main reason why someone had to stay behind with her was because no other girl approached our table when she was around us. She just had that effect. We became so enraptured by her that no one else caught our eye, and so no one approached.

We didn’t mind. She took all of our attention when she was around, and she didn’t even know it. So it was safe to say that ever since she stopped agreeing to be dragged out into bars with us, we were grateful.

“Dad?” They hadn’t realized I had made no effort to get ready until they were already at the door.

“‘M not going tonight.” Her surprised eyes found mine from the other side of the room, but just like my kids, she didn’t say anything. In another minute or so they were gone and then it was only her and I in the bunker for the night.

I could see the tension in her shoulders from the other side of the room, and I almost chuckled. Perhaps this was only another sign in a long list of things that should show me how screwed up I was for wanting what I did, but I’d given up trying to fight it. I’d fucked woman after woman thinking about the girl in front of me, and she was still the only one I could think about when I lied down at night. So now it was time to get her.

“Y/N,” I called out to her a few minutes after the boys had left, wanting to give them time to possibly come back to get whatever item they might have forgotten, but when that wasn’t the case, I broke the silence that had fallen in the room without a second thought. “Come here.”

I could see even from the distance between us that she flinched at the sound of her own name. Had I startled her? She was a hunter, she couldn’t be so easily scared, but perhaps it was the tension that had appeared between us that made her uneasy enough to jump at anything.

Her head whipped up to look at me, but she didn’t immediately do anything, just stared, like she was unsure if I’d actually called her name or if it was only her own imagination playing tricks on her. When I refused to repeat myself, but still maintained eye contact with her, she slowly got up from her chair and made her way to where I was sitting, giving me the perfect opportunity to appreciate her body.

Fuck, she really was something. The way that jeans hugged her curves, showing off her tight ass, and how her breasts bounced with each step she took towards me. It was impossible not to be aroused - I couldn’t understand how Sam kept it in his pants. I knew for a fact Dean had eyed her quite a bit, because I was the one to remove any ideas of him ever getting with her with a single slap on the back of his head when I got him smirking down at her.

That kid was too much like me for his own good.

“You called?” She asked when she was finally right in front of me, her head doing that cute little thing where it leaned to one side as she nibbled on her lower lip, waiting for any sort of reaction from me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

John’s stare was an intense kind of torture, one that seemed perfectly constructed just to break me down to my most primal state. I had no doubt he’d be able to achieve that. After what felt like hours of him undressing me with those brown hues that had seen so much more than he actually let on, he finally showed me some sort of direct recognition, sitting up straighter in the armchair he was sprawled on, before clearing his throat.

“Yes, I did call you. You see, Y/N, I’ve found myself in a sort of… situation, for quite sometime now, and I’ve tried everything I could to get myself through it. There’s only one thing left, now. You.”

My eyebrows flew up while I opened my mouth several times, in search of something to say. Still, with the little amount of information I had, all that was left for me to ask was “Me? How can I help you?”

By the way the corners of his lips twitched up - the closest thing to a smile coming from John Winchester - it was clear that while he anticipated my questioning, it still amused him greatly. I got the impression that he thought of me as something precious, innocent even, and while I couldn’t understand neither where I got this idea or why he thought of me like that, the truth was that it got me hot like nothing else.

“Considering you are the very reason for my problem, I’d say there are a lot of ways you can help me, sweetheart.” My heart had started beating more quickly, the innuendo in his words, the tension that had been ever-present in the atmosphere between us, it all made sense. But I still couldn’t believe this was actually happening, that he actually wanted me.

I didn’t want to do or say anything that let on what I was thinking about, because God, how embarrassing would it be if I had completely misread this situation?

John sighed at my lack of response, throwing a hand through his hair as he looked around the room before fixing his eyes on me again. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t want to put you into a difficult position and I most definitely don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want, I just think you might be interested in taking up my offer. I’ve seen the way you look at me, it’s not much different from how I look at you either. None of the boys need to know. This would just be between me and you.”

I was certain he was able to hear my heartbeat by now, but still, I forced myself to speak over the thundering sound resonating in my ears. “And what would that be, exactly? Your offer, I mean.”

John didn’t immediately answer, opting instead to run his eyes through my figure once more. I forced myself to contain the inevitable shiver, pondering how the hell was he able to feel so dominating while remaining seated, whereas I was standing up.

John’s P.O.V.

“I want to use you as my personal fucktoy,” I decided to get on with it, lay it all out in the open as soon as possible. There was no reason to hide, after all, I wasn’t exactly a blushing virgin and I wanted her to know exactly what she was getting herself into if she accepted my proposal.

“Now, I need you to really understand this, pretty girl. I’m not fucking around and I’m most definitely nothing like the boys you probably fucked up until now. When I say I want you to be my fucktoy, I mean you will be my fucktoy. I have a lot of pent up frustrations to deal with and I will not do anything other than use you. It will be rough. I will not be gentle.”

I watched with clear interest as my words registered in the girl in front of me. It wasn’t hard to see that she was interested in what I was offering, by the way she was biting her lip and changing her weight from one leg to another. I was willing to bet that she was wet already.

“Are you sure we’ll be able to keep this from the boys?” I smiled at how she called my sons, who were both older than her, and at her priorities. There was a reason I knew I should take the leap and look for relief in her. Instead of worrying about how rough I could be, she just wanted to know about the privacy of it all.

“Come here, sweetheart,” I asked, beckoning her to my lap. She obeyed with barely any hesitancy, which instantly aroused me. There was nothing I loved more than a girl who knew her place and what she wanted.

As soon as she was in touching distance, I pulled her to sit on one of my thighs, relishing in the tiny gasp of surprise she let out at the sudden movement. “You don’t need to worry,” I assured her, while wrapping a strand of her hair on one of my fingers, while my other hand secured her in her spot. “We’re both consenting adults, right? They never have to know about what we do when they aren’t here.”

Her eyes had been staring at my mouth as I talked, and by the end of my question she quickly raised them to meet mine again, like she was scared to be caught staring. A chuckle caught in my throat, I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to me. “Just come here,” I said right before meeting her lips with mine.

It was exactly as I imagined, her softness meeting my chapped lips with some timidness as I forced her to welcome my eager tongue. The tiny moan that she let out as I parted her lips to get my first taste of her went straight to my cock, making me groan before I adjusted her so she’d sit properly on both of my thighs, facing me.

Her hands clutched my shirt as mine explored her body, masculine satisfaction filling my chest at the knowledge that from now on, she’d be mine to take.”Wanna start being a good girl for me?” I whispered in her ear, fully enjoying seeing the goosebumps that rose up on her arms at the touch of my breath on her skin.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Yes,” I breathed out without even thinking twice, completely lost to the feeling of John’s warm, manly hands groping my body. His ever-present smell of whiskey and gunpowder was going straight to my head, making me feel like the world was swirling around us as he savored my lips, my jaw, my throat, his hands getting lost in my hair before grabbing my ass over my jeans, grinding me against him.

“Then get up,” he ordered, already helping me do as he said with his hands on my waist. When I was standing in front of him again, he ran his eyes through me one more time before continuing, “Now strip.”

I’d normally feel at least a bit timid of following his direction, but with John looking at me like I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on, I found myself wishing that my clothes were already on the floor - especially since it suddenly felt way too hot in this bunker, the fluorescent lights a sun in itself.

First went my shirt, before I unbuttoned my jeans and let them fall down to my ankles. John licked his lips at the sight of my body in just my underwear, before telling me to step out of my jeans.

He didn’t need to tell me to proceed with my strip-tease, I did so instinctively, my bra quickly falling down to the floor before my panties followed the same path. John’s gaze had darkened considerably, and had become so strong that it almost felt like a physical presence over me, exploring my crevices.

“Pull out that chair, sweetheart,” he nodded towards one of the simple wooden chairs we kept by one of the dining tables, and although I quirked an eyebrow in his direction, I did as he said, positioning the chair to face him, before he tutted. “Turn it around,” he instructed, and I did so quickly, my breasts bouncing with each step I took. “Now brace yourself on the back of that chair.”

For the first time, I hesitated before doing what he wanted. With him still seating right behind me, I’d be quite literally giving him a vision of everything. But of course, that was precisely what he wanted, so I just resorted to doing exactly as he said, wrapping my arms around the back of the chair and leaning over so that my pussy was on display for him.

I didn’t witness any sort of reaction for a few seconds, and my heart was beating so loudly I couldn’t even hear his breath to be able to actually pinpoint if he was still seated or not. All I knew was that with each passing minute, my nerves stood on end, my nipples tightening in the warm air of the room while I could feel my wetness start to seep out of my lower lips.

But then, I felt his hands on the back of my thighs, his warm breath right over my most intimate part, like he was teasing himself with my smell before allowing his own satisfaction. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he whispered in that rough voice of his that always gave me shivers. Accompanied by a sweep of his knuckles against my most sensitive part, it almost made my knees buckle.

John’s P.O.V.

I had to stop myself from chuckling at how much my little actions affected her. I could only imagine how she’d look all fucked out, when I was done with her. “Hang there, sweetheart, I wanna get myself a taste.” Keeping her still by my grip on her legs, I buried my face on her pussy from behind, paying attention to the adorable little gasp she let out at the first swipe of my tongue. “You can be as loud as you want, pretty girl. The boys aren’t here to hear ya.”

I slowly collected some of the wetness already slipping out of her with the tip of my tongue, relishing in her sweet taste. I immediately needed more, needed to have it dripping off my beard, imprinted on my taste buds.

All calmness and control recklessly abandoned, I pressed myself further inside of her, only half-listening to the broken moans and gasps leaving her lips as she tried to remain in the position I ordered her to be in, while I lapped up her cunt with a vigor I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Fuck, you really are a sweet thing, aren’t you? I’d forgotten how great young pussy tasted. Hang in there, sweetheart, this might take a while.” It wasn’t my plan to spend so much time just eating her out, but she was just too delicious to leave without having her cum directly against my tongue. So I gave her my all, engulfing her pussy in my mouth as my jaw rubbed against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, my beard certainly leaving a burning sensation I could only take egoistic pride in. Finally, she gave me what I wanted, cumming directly into my mouth with my nose pressed against her little clit, and I drank it all in, licking my lips and hers to make sure I wouldn’t waste any drop.

She was still trembling and trying to catch her breath when I pulled away from her, rubbing my lips to chase the remnants of her taste. Then I paused, once again looking her up and down, from the tiptoes she was resting on, the back of her thighs until the perfectly presented cunt just there for me to take.

“Wait just there, darlin’, I think I might need a second taste.” By the time I was done with her, three orgasms later, she’d cum with my hands spreading her asscheeks, after I fucked my tongue inside her pretty little asshole, with a single finger inside of her while I bit on her thighs and finally, with three digits buried to the knuckle, as she begged me for a release I was more than happy to give her. Her juices were already dripping past her ankles, and as much as I wanted to lick it all up, clean her with my tongue, my cock had been throbbing inside my jeans for far too long to continue to be ignored.

Rising up behind her, I caressed the skin of her back as I tried to calm her down, while I kept one hand on my belt, prying it open. “There, sweetheart. We’re almost done, aren’t we? All that’s left for you to do now is to welcome my cock into that tight cunt of yours. Think you can do it?”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

My heart couldn’t keep up with what was going on. It felt like I’d just run a marathon, my skin all sweaty while my wetness dripped on the concrete floor below us. “Y-yes,” I answered with all the energy I had left, flinching at how hoarse my throat felt. “I can do it.”

John chuckled warmly, and it was with a jolt of excitement that I realized his cock was out, as he pulled me against his chest by my hair. “I know you can, sweet thing. The question is… how badly do you want it?”

He rubbed his cock against me as he whispered the question in my ear, and I gasped at how thick he felt, immediately comprehending what he wanted from me. “Please, John, I want it so bad. I want your cock inside of me, I need it.”

The growl I got in response let me know I had gotten it right even before I felt the head of his cock pressing against me, spearing me open. He shoved it all inside of me in a single thrust, not allowing me anytime to get used to the feeling of being so brutally stretched after he bottomed out.

“Now, darlin’, you just hold onto that chair and let me ruin you.” Pushing me against the chair again, he immediately started to pound against me, both hands so tightly holding onto my waist that I was sure I’d have bruised in the morning.

He wasn’t lying about ruining me. I’d never been so forcefully fucked in my entire life, and it wasn’t hard to see that I had John’s sexual experience to thank for it. “John!” I screamed out his name as I felt myself reaching that high again, my channel throbbing around him. He just kept fucking me with the same intensity, turning my sensitiveness into overstimulation in a second.

“John, please!” I begged as tears rolled down my cheeks from the way it all felt like too much - the feeling of being so filled, the way my clit ached and throbbed, my pussy trying to push him out and keep him in at the same time. Still, I couldn’t be certain of what I was asking for - for him to stop? To continue? Both ideas sounded equally necessary to me at that moment.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to be my fucktoy?” He asked threateningly, pulling me by my hair again so he could lick the salt on my cheek. “You can take it, sweetheart. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” With a slap over my clit, I cried as my last orgasm suddenly intensified and I felt myself bursting with a white hot flash of an orgasm as I squirted all over our clamped legs.

When I finally managed to blink my eyes open again, I realized John was still hugging me to him, but he’d stopped moving. Then, I realized the mess between my legs was even stickier, and it all made sense.

“I forgot to ask you where I could cum,” he joked, kissing my temple before slowly pulling out of my abused pussy. He looked around for my clothes before selecting my shirt to wipe the excess moisture on our skins.

“It’s okay,” I explained as I tried to catch my breath, still frozen on the same spot and holding the chair, since I was scared my legs would fail me if I tried to move. “I’m on the pill.” Before I could say anything else, John picked me up bridal style and started moving us towards the bedrooms, making me wheeze in surprise. “Where are you taking me?” I inquired, confused and tired, but he looked down at me like I was suddenly gone crazy.

“My bedroom. I figured I’d let you soak in a bath while I take care of the mess we left in the living room. Then I can come back and hold you for a bit, before you fall asleep. How does that sound?” As hard as it was to wrap my head around the concept of John Winchester performing aftercare, I was too tired to even question, so I just nodded, smiling softly up at him.

“Sounds perfect.”

#smut #my fics #john winchester smut #winchester smut #john winchester reader #john winchester fanfiction #john winchester fan fiction #john winchester imagine #john winchester smut imagine #john winchester

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years ago

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What they call home pt. 5|7 - Home in his embrace [Sirius Black x Reader]

Title: What they call home pt. 5|7 - Home in his embrace Pairing: Post Azkaban!Sirius Black x Female!Lestrange!Reader Word count: 2.1k Published: 13 November, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warning: Heated scenes Notes: This was written for @wand3ringr0s3 ‘s writing challenge and also for a request I have received on Wattpad. It was supposed to be a one shot, but it turned into a series somehow. I have been getting carried away these days.

Disclaimer: I have dug myself very deep into the Black and Lestrange family just to make sure that there were no incest in the story. I went back 300 years, until 1700 and I can confirm Blacks have not been related to the Lestranges, except Bellatrix Lestrange (nee Black) marrying Rodolphus Lestrange around 1968-70, pre-Wizarding War I.

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

What they call home Masterlist

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It was a rainy, dull evening, weather getting colder, nights spreading longer. You have been thinking about Molly’s words, over and over again playing in the back of your mind like an old and faulty record player.

You thought as both of you were stuck in the house alone, you could initiate a little bonding time, maybe trying to understand him a bit more. You walked into the dining room, taking two crystal glasses and a bottle of fire whiskey out of the cupboard and headed back to the living room, where you last saw Sirius. You halted at the doorway and leaned against the wooden frame.

The room was dominated in dark orange and red colours, filled with warmth provided by the fire. Sirius sat on one of the couches right in front of the fireplace, his eyes focused on the flames, his silky long hair tucked behind his ear, his face relaxed and soft. You haven’t seen him so calm since your years in Hogwarts, when he was a reckless teenager. You didn’t even realise that you somewhat missed his carefree attitude.

You walked behind the couch, holding the bottle of fire whiskey in front of him as you propped your elbow up on the back of the furniture. You didn’t expect Sirius to turn around, but when he did you couldn’t miss the proximity between you.

His nose was almost touching yours, his eyes even more beautiful up close. His breath reached your lips, making you shiver slightly, his eyes accidently wandering down to your mouth, his gaze lingering a tad longer than it was appropriate. Your heart was racing in a dangerous pace and you could have sworn it was loud enough for him to hear. You tried not to look at his lips, your self-control disappearing faster than you wished to admit. You knew if you were to look at his lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from closing the gap between you.

Sirius was the first to break the moment, his voice shaky as he tried to solve the tension. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you are trying to get me drunk.” He chuckled with a slightly awkward tone to his voice as he took the bottle from you and patted the space beside him on the couch.

You sat down on the other end of the sofa; your legs pulled up to your chest as you waited for him to pour the liquid into your glass.

“I might have had ulterior motives.” You replied as you finally felt yourself capable of speaking again. His brows ran high at your brave comment, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips.

“And what would that be?” He asked as he handed you your glass, wild curiosity shining through his grey eyes.

“Now what would be the fun in spilling all my secrets to you?” You smirked as you clinked your glasses together.

The conversation was easy flowing, not even a second of silence falling up on you. It was hard not to be around the man, you couldn’t even recall why you disliked him so much back in school. He was funny and sweet, had a way with words and never made you feel like he was trying to overpower you or look down on you.

You had to accept that he was becoming more and more important to you and you were hoping that you didn’t misread the signs, that he was indeed as interested in you as you were in him.

“You know, if you told me in school that I would be sitting here, just having a conversation with you without trying to kill each other or plot something against the other, I would have thought you were under a spell.” He shook his head as he looked into the fire.

“I guess I would have reacted the same way.” You nodded, following his eyes towards the fireplace. “Would you want us to go back to the old times and try to make each other’s life miserable?” You asked as your eyes stared at the man’s profile, eagerly waiting for a reply.

A small smile spread across his face, the flames mirroring in his stormy eyes. “No, I wouldn’t. I have to admit, I do enjoy your company.” He replied wearing his lazy, lopsided smile as he took a swig of his drink.

“Oh my, was that a compliment from Sirius Black himself?” You asked in a mocking surprise, causing the man to roll his eyes at your antics.

It was relaxing, just to sit with him, talk to him about anything and not feeling like you had to censor your own words. His presence beside you made you feel warm and welcomed and whilst you knew it would be a bold statement to say it out loud, he felt like home. A home where you could be yourself without anyone judging you, a home where you were more than welcome, a home where perhaps you were wanted.

The night dragged on, making you feel drowsy. You felt your head fall against the back of the couch, your glass tilting in your hand, dangerously close to spill its content. But before it could have happened, Sirius took the glass from your hand and placed it on the table beside the sofa.

You felt yourself being lifted, your nostrils filling up with Sirius’ mixed scent of tobacco, alcohol and caffeine. You forced your eyes to open, realising you were being carried by him. One of his arms was tucked under the back of your knees, with the other balancing your weight behind your back. A lazy smile spread across your face as you enjoyed his arms around you, slumber taking over you once again, before you could have even reached your room.

You couldn’t have been asleep for long, when you heard a loud, deep scream coming from another room. It took you a second and third scream to recognise Sirius’ voice. You didn’t have to roll from left to right, you didn’t try to fall back asleep. You jumped out of bed as soon as you processed his pained cries and ripped your door open, running to his room.

You didn’t care about politeness and ethics, screw them, you opened the door and stepped inside his room. He was turning and tossing on his bed, the bedside lamp giving you enough light to see his face sweating feverishly, his face pale, his eyes firmly closed. He was having an awful nightmare.

You walked up to his bed, taking a seat on the edge, trying to shake the man to wake up, but he didn’t budge. “Sirius?” You held his shoulders, but he didn’t wake up. You tried to shake him stronger, but his horrid dream sucked him in so deep, you were unsuccessful. “Sirius!” You raised your voice, giving him a shake again, his eyes shot open, staring at you in surprise. He lifted his arm, removing the sweat drops from his forehead. “Are you okay?” You asked as you removed his hair from his face, gently tucking it behind his ear.

“Yeah-“ he breathed, his voice hoarse.

“Do you need anything? I can bring you a glass of water, maybe a blanket?” His skin was freezing cold under your warm touch, concern lacing in your voice as you offered to help. His pyjama shirt rolled up on his stomach, exposing his skin, making it hard for you to look away.

“I’m good.” He said as he heaved a deep sigh, his eyes staring at the ceiling. You weren’t sure what to do.

“Are you sure?” You were debating to leave him alone, but you couldn’t just do that after such a nightmare. You had your fair share of those, and it was harder to fight them alone. However, Sirius nodded, silently asking you to leave. “I’m just going to go back to my room then. If you need anything, just let me know, okay?” You tried to search for his eyes, but he kept staring at the ceiling, his gaze never connecting yours.

You nodded more to yourself and stood up from his bed, heading towards the door. “Could you please stay?” His voice was barely a whisper, but it stopped you immediately. You didn’t know how to react, your heart wanted to jump out of your chest after all. You turned around, his eyes fixed on yours, his gaze filled with pain and desperation for someone to hold him.

You heaved a deep sigh and pulled a chair beside his bed, but he shook his head. “No.” He said and patted the bed beside him. You gulped loudly, fearing your heart would give you away as soon as he was to touch you, but after taking a shaky sigh, you went along. You have been in need of his touch for so long and you wanted to be selfish. You were there for him, to make him feel better, but you were there for yourself, wanting to feel him close to you.

You climbed on the bed as Sirius held his duvet up for you and you shimmied closer to him, but not enough to touch him.

“Would you mind if I held you?” He asked, his voice weak, making your eyes widen. You didn’t expect him to touch you, you thought he needed just a company, someone to take his nightmares away. You felt your hands shake, your throat dry out, your chest tighten from the inside. You nodded at his request and scooted closer to him. Without hesitation he wrapped his arm around your waist as you hid your face in his chest, blessing the soft light for not exposing the crimson red blush covering your cheeks.

“Does it make you feel uncomfortable?” He asked, concern filling his voice, but you quickly shook your head. You weren’t uncomfortable, maybe excited would have been the right word. You felt guilty for feeling your stomach jump at his sleepy voice, for your heartbeat racing in a pace you thought was fatal as his arm sneaked around you, for the inappropriate thoughts you had when you were supposed to comfort him innocently.

You didn’t know if it was your closeness or his nightmare, but you could feel his heart pumping just as fast as yours was. “I can’t sleep.” He stated, pulling you even closer, his face hidden in your hair. You tilted your head up, your eyes meeting his grey ones, the dim light making them shine in the darkness.

“Is there any way I can help?” You asked, hoping to ease his mood. You tried to ignore the proximity between you, his lips almost touching yours, his breath fanning your skin, his eyes shamelessly staring at your lips, before they found your gaze again.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered against your lips, his hand squeezing your waist gently. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, air dangerously stuck in your lungs. You didn’t know what to say, his closeness made you feel dizzy. You wanted to feel his lips against yours for so long, but there you were lying in his embrace and you didn’t know how to react.

You heaved a shaky sigh as you slowly nodded. Sirius didn’t kiss you immediately; his pace was taunting you as he grazed his lips across yours, back and forth, before he finally closed the space between you.

His chapped lips melted with yours, inviting you for a slow dance. You thought he would attack you aggressively, but there he was studying every inch of your lips, moving with you in sync, his arm pulling you flush against him, your hands gripping on to his shirt as if your life depended on it.

The kiss didn’t last long, but it was enough to make you want more. You felt his unsteady breaths on your skin, his hand still holding onto you dearly. You didn’t know what came over you, maybe a hint of bravery just resurfaced from deep down, but you couldn’t stop yourself from attaching your lips to his again.

You grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer to you if that was even possible, his lips hungrily moving against yours as his hand found its way under your shirt. His cold touch sent shivers through your heated body as he climbed on top of you, deepening the kiss.

You definitely didn’t expect to find yourself cuddled up to Sirius, let alone kissing him hungrily as his touches explored every inch of your body. But you had to admit, you couldn’t have asked for a better night, than feeling home in his embrace.

Series taglist:

@timogtrrz @chichewy @bloodyxheaven @lovecatystuff @mooniemell @hxrgreeves @sacredmirrxrs @lindatreb @n3ssm0nique @cardboardbenmazzello @aprilsrant @why-do-you-have-my-phone @chaoticgirl04 @siriusement @missmulti @misswriter @avatarbeeb @swearingsolemnly @pancakefancake @msmarklee1213 @froggylilith @kribbydahufflepuff @littlemegsstuff @sanitisegermsfree @lord-taika @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @ezgithechaotic @lennonknowsmysins @marveloucnco @sherlockinand @fific7 @levylovegood @breadqueen95 @gloryekaterina @moonstarrnghtsky @lotties-journey-abroad @mytreec @goddessofgames @blackbirddaredevil23 @7minutes-tomidnight

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If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

#wand3ring1.9kchallenge #sirius black #sirius #sirius x reader #sirius x reader fanfiction #sirius x reader series #sirius black x reader #sirius black x reader fanfiction #sirius black x reader series #Post Azkaban!Sirius Black #Post Azkaban!Sirius Black x reader #sirius x slytherin!reader #Order of the Phoenix #gryffindor #slytherin #lestrange

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the-fourth-knower · 4 years ago

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Diary of a lost doe, part 1

A short fic where my character Annabelle writes in diaries

Fresh off losing her parents, Annabelle Flaches must contend with trying to fend for herself and her baby sister Angelica. And with Angelica talking to a mysterious green orb when she thinks Annabelle isn’t watching, things are only at the tip of the iceberg.

This is for me and Aquillis’s “half and half” AU, our ‘main’ AU. not to be confused with Aqui’s pack universe which is her underground re-write.

Due to the length I'm splitting this into two parts. This is part 1, part 2 is here!

Diary Enry 1, Day I dunno.

Okay here it is. First diary entry I guess. Gotta keep it brief, writing instruements are hard.

Been a few months since that day. We’re doing fine. Angie started another garden. Moved to a new spot.

Got some new things for the house. Old car door and a tire. Not sure what I’ll do with the tire gonna use the door as part of wall.

Finished roof this morning. Good thing 2, might rain.

Angie still sleps bad if not next to me. Writing while she’s curled up. Wasn’t for scars on ear and having to sleep in same clothes she’d look like we’re still home.

Gotta sleep now.

Diary Entry 2

Maybe got a job. Illegal probs but $ is $

Angelica talked more today. Good sign? Maybe she relapses back into not talking but progress.

I never thought i’d miss her annoying stupid “hey lets go explore a cave and not tell anyone bout what we’ll do” self. Never thought about losing mum and pa ei

Shit crying. Bye.

Diary entry 3

Diary didn’t get too wet yesterday.Don’t think bout mom and pa it ends badly.

I can’t afford to break down even if Angie’s sleeping

If I break down then Angie will get upset

I won’t put her through it

I won’t

…

Diary entry 54

Had to leave town but am 600 $ richer

Angie’s quiet again. But she didn’t complain bout us leavin

gonna go for a city maybe. more risk but more money and places to live.

Jadetown’s the city. Dunno too much bout it but mum liked it.

Should get there in maybe a cuple weeks or so

Angie’s sound asleep. No kicking or anything so that’s good

Hope the city’s okay. Angie hates crowds.

Need somewhere with not a lot of crowds to live at

…

Diary Entry 63

Been a hot second. Settling in Jadetown’s pretty hard.

Find a quiet spot in the slums. Pretty shitty now, but the two of us can make it work

Angie still isn’t talking, but she kept close to me while we made our way through the crowds. She seemed fine as long as she held my hand

Lost her a couple times, but not for long. She seemed upset bout it.

Sorry Angie.

I’ll do better. I promise.

...

Diary Entry 169 (it’s the morning but fuck it)

The nightmare happened again.

Angelica having her ear scared by those monsters. mum and pa being taken away in exchange for us being set loose

Only it loops around and around before it’s just cries and blood and knives and screams and crying and they’re all surrounding me judging me for just failing everyone because you’re a fucking failure

Haven’t had it a while. Don’t upset yourself, Angie needs you.

Diary entry 169? Night

Angelica almost killed some street thugs.

we caught some dumbass looking punks bullying some sort of chao. I think it’s a chao

I ran up to one like an idiot and gout in their face to know what they’re doin, and the things went dark. I got knocked out on my ass, apparenlty the big brute that led them butted me in the head. Asshole didn’t even let me get ready

I came to to Angie trying to shake me awake. When I looked around the punks were gone, there were plant vines all over, and the other kids that had gathered were a mix of crapped their pants and mouths on the floor

I asked angie bout it and she just said she took care of them and that the punks had run off

What the hell did she do? Usually I’m the one saving her? But she was having none of it today.

Oh the chao’s fine, weirdass chao though. Never seen chao that just cause flowers to grow around them or in their footsteps.

Made 30 $

Rib’s hurting and headache, Angie fast asleep. Time for bed.

Diary Entry 170

Chao’s bak.

Visited Angie’s garden for a while watchin me watchin it. It waved and left right around Angie gettin up.

Showed up again when we got back home. Angie hasn’t seen it yet. Good thing, she wanted to bring it with us. We can’t afford three mouths.

I don’t like it. We save its ass and now its stalking us.

Made nothin.

Ribs hurt less. Still a bitch.

Diary entry 171

Angie’s found the “chao”

She talked to it all morning when she thought i was napping. Couldn’t sleep, too afraid of bad dreams.

It doesn’t make chao sounds. Or it does but really weird ones.

Then it turned a green light ball for a bit and back into a chao

Angie liked that.

I don’t trust it. Even less.

Need to watch it.

Angie’s relaxed.

Made 5$.

Diary Entry 172 morn

Nightmare again

Diary Entry 172 night

Angie got excited, claimed that she “found Trevor”

he lived near us back in our old home

Had to tell her no, every red mouse we see is not Trevor.

She says that Trevor and his family were gonna move here, pretty inistent too.

Man she gets caught up on the smallest things

Made 20$

Diary Entry 173

Chao returned while i was working. Left Angie on her own

Shes seemed like she was having a fun time being able to talk with someone

She’s not made friends much. Maybe i’m being too hard on the ‘chao’

Still gotta watch it. It could be manipulating her

Haven’t told her I know bout the chao yet.

Should i?

Not now. Angelica is sleeping.

Made 5$

Diary Entry 174

‘Trevor’ spotting 2. Angie wanted to go bug the person. So we went and sure enough as we got closer Angie changed her mind. It was a rat, not a mouse she said.

How can she tell the difference?

No Angie and chao visit. Unless it was while i slept in. but why would she be secretive bout it?

Saw the punk bitch again today. Looked like he crapped his pants when he saw Angie and she glared at him. That’s my sister.

Made 60$

…

Diary Entry 364

Got a new diary. Last entry for this one. Things going well. Got a good thing going for myself.

Angie found a new plant today, and now she’s got it in her garden.

Loved the look on her face when I got it for her.

Made 50$

Angelica’s chatted with the Chao again. Sort of like, is her guardian I think. Or is that its name

Guess good bye diary 1. Really weird to do but it feels right.

Angie’s sleeping well enough on her own. She mumbles but that seems it.

Do I do a good job keeping her safe

Diary 2 Entry 1

Managed to find a new diary. Keeping the old one just cause, and because I have the storage. For a couple of street bum does, we’ve got a decent enough house going. Been able to put it together from bits and bobs lying around, Angie even threw in her hat and added her own touches.

Looks ugly as hell with the plants holding things together and it’s all a mish mash of junk and crap I found, but it’s our mishmash of junk and crap.

Also saved up enough and am making enough to afford more than one pen and even some pencils. So I can write more often. Just felt like writing

Angie’s started to get more vocal again. I think she’s catching onto the fact the way I’ve been making money is less than honest a lot of the time.

I’m not going to sell myself for it though. I’m not degrading myself with that and nayone who fucking tries is going to a hospital.

And if any of those freaks dare go near Angie there won’t be enough left for a morgue to pick up.

Oh, and the chao’s still around. I can feel it. Angelica loves it, I think. I don’t trust it entirely, yet. But, it hasn't been a danger for the past months. So I think it’s actually a good thing.. Angie calls it Guardian. Maybe it's our own Guardian Angel.

Made 65$ today.

Good journal entry me. You got talkative. Writative? Whatever.

...

Diary 2 Entry 23

Got into a fight today, that was fun. The punks from when I helped save Guardian decided to jump me when Angelica was at the house. Guess they figured they could jump me without little sis to back me up. Too bad for them, when I don’t get suckered I’m damn good at defending myself. Sent them packing. Got a bit bruised. Why is it always the ribs with those guys.

Admittedly. I didn’t have to beat the crap out of them. But talk shit get hit, I say. They shouldn’t have been trash talking me when I was walking by.

Angelica was upset when I got back. Should’ve expected that, really. Don’t know why I didn’t think she would notice me being hurt, she’s got a sixth sense for that sort of thing. Always has. Kinda weird.

But, she did try and heal me a bit. Somehow, she’s gotten better at it -Ever since she's met Guardian, she’s gotten more control over that healing ability she has. I just need to make sure she doesn’t overdo herself again.

I don’t know anything much bout healing magic or whatever it is, but I don’t think what Angie has is normal. I think she uses herself for it. Whatever healing she tries to do just eats away at her. And whatever it was was enough to frighten Pa to move us in the first place

I think part of me might blame ANgie for it. For getting us out of the safety of where we lived near Agateton and moving.

But if we didn’t move would we really have been safe still. And it wasn’t Angie’s fault she did what she did, it was Pa who pushed for it and Mum who went with it.

So do I blame them? I don’t want to. The monsters that took them and hurt Angie are the ones to blame.

But they wouldn’t have found us if we didn’t move near that forest. But Mum and Pa couldn’t have seen it coming.

Ugh. brain hurts. Fuck this mind screw bullshite

Spent 123.54$ today. Groceries and supplies. Tampons are stupid expensive but I want to have a decent supply for when we need them. Also some food.

Made 13$. Gonna need to work more to recoup.

No idea if Angie talked with Guardian. She still thinks I don’t know anythin bout it.

At least, I think she doesn’t. She gets defensive and acts like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

I wonder why she does that. Wonder if it’s tied with how I react to her saying she’s found Trevor for the umpteenth time.

Maybe I should press her bout it. But I don’t want to get her worked up over nothin.

Okay that’s enough, my mind’s getting wandering now and I stay up if I do that.

...

Diary 2 Entry 54

Someone showed up with a bunch of robots earlier. Cause quite the commotion, sent people running, the usual.

Apparently he set up shop in the rich quarter and is causing all sorts of troubles. People have been coming to and fro a lot the past few days.

Angie got worried over explosions. Had to calm her down, explain that whatever it was probably wasn’t coming here. She asked me bout the people there and if they needed help - told her that someone would take care of the rich fops. That’s what they do after all. Who gives a shit about two practically orphaned kids.

Not sure if she bought it. Gotta keep an eye on her. Might need to pull an all nighter.

And we don’t have any energy drinks or coffee. I could go grab one, no one is gonna give a shit if I do, not in this current environment.

Gotta stop for now. Gotta focus on Angie not some stupid book.

Entry 55

Angie’s missin

#Knower writes #Sonic #Sonic Fic #Sonic the Hedgehog #Annabelle Flaches #Angelica Flaches #didn't realize it'd be so long #guess that's what happens if I just let myself write something #but I had fun writing this #hope everyone enjoys this first part

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wlntrsldler · 4 years ago

Note

george fic + enchanted by taylor swift!

PROMPT: George is in love with Y/N. She’s in love with Fred.

WARNINGS: death, angst, tears?

WC: 3.5K+ (sorry, i got carried away)

HP MASTERLIST

This is my submission for @weasleysflowr 300 follower writing challenge! Congratulations love!

“I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

“Can we just pretend for one day that you love me?”

enchanted (g.w one shot)

George knew he loved you.

He didn’t know when or how he fell for you, all he knew was that you had him wrapped around your finger. He tried to keep his feelings at bay, knowing that if he spoke up it would ruin your friendship. You were best friends with him and Fred, inseparable since your first year. He was enchanted the minute he met you and he made it his mission to make sure you’re always okay. It came as a shock to Molly when she sent off the twins for their first year and they came back as triplets by the summertime. She, of course, accepted you as one of her own, which is why George never said anything about how he felt. He couldn’t lose the most precious friendship he had.

That and you were hopelessly in love with Fred.

George saw it in the way you looked at his twin because it’s exactly how he looked at you. He’d watch as you stared at Fred longingly, with love pouring out of your eyes. He watched as your heart broke into pieces as Fred asked Angelina to the Yule Ball. Or when he shamelessly flirts with girls from Hufflepuff right in front of you. Or when he took out girls on dates to Hogsmeade. George had to sit back and watch as the girl he loved fell deeper in love with his twin brother.

He couldn’t blame you. All his life George felt second to his brother. Fred was always the first of the twins that people would mention when talking about them. It’s always “Fred and George,” not “George and Fred.” George learned how to become okay with it as time passed, but the one thing he could never stomach was how you seemed to apply that same thinking with them as well. To you, it was Fred first, George second.

It was the night before Bill and Fleur’s wedding. You were helping put up decorations around the Burrow, hoping that your small contributions could help speed the process along. George was sitting on the couch, healing from his ear injury, waiting for someone to come in and keep him company. He smiled excitedly, motioning for you to sit next to him, as you skipped inside the Burrow, hair in disarray from helping everyone else outside. You obliged, plopping down beside him and snuggling into his side.

George tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart as the scent of your shampoo filled his senses. He rubbed his palm up and down your arm, placing a soft kiss to your head, “Tired, love?”

Without missing a beat, you nodded, humming in content at the warmth he gave off. He was always affectionate with you. You never questioned his actions, as you’ve grown used to it over the years that you’ve known him. You loved being held by George. It made you feel safe and protected.

“You can sleep here,” he suggested, draping a blanket over your body, “I don’t mind.”

You sighed, “I might have to take you up on that offer, Georgie. Don’t think I can make it up the stairs. Freddie worked me with setting up the tables and chairs today.”

George didn’t miss the way the tone of your voice changed when you mentioned Fred. He hoped that you couldn’t hear the sound of his heart breaking as you laid on his chest. He gulped, trying to swallow down any feeling of jealousy and hurt that managed to make its way up his throat. Fred was his brother, his twin, for Merlin’s sake! He shouldn’t be feeling like this. George shook his head, trying to rid his mind of these stubborn thoughts. Before he could respond, he heard the sound of your soft snoring.

George smiled fondly, loving the way you adjusted your body to be closer to him. Your eyelid twitched, an indication that you were fast asleep. He made the mistake of trying to prank you once when he thought you were asleep and it backfired on him entirely. Since that night, he made it his mission to figure out what your tells were— and that eye twitch was a sure sign of your slumber.

He looked out the window, taking in the scenes in front of him. His happy and complete family was scattered everywhere around the house, doing Godric knows what, but that didn’t matter because they were all here. He looked at the set up outside, imagining it filled with people whose last party, last sense of normalcy, would be the wedding tomorrow. Finally, he let his eyes wander down to your sleeping figure, so peaceful and content with how your life was like at the moment.

He gulped, running his fingers through your hair, “I guess this is a better time than any to tell you that I love you.”

He whispered the last part, just in case you were actually still awake. When you didn’t stir or flutter your eyes open, he continued, “I don’t think I’m ready to tell you how I feel yet but I know that if I don’t say it out loud, I might burst. So I’ll say it now, before anything too bad happens. You know? Just in case.”

George looked up, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. He wiped a stray tear away from his cheek, freezing when you shifted in his arms. You fell back into your sleepy rhythm and he let out a sigh of relief, “I can’t even think about something happening to you without crying. Pathetic, aren’t I?”

“I shouldn’t be in love with you,” he said, shakily, holding you closer to his chest, “I know that. I know you love Fred but I can’t help it, Y/N/N.”

He sat in silence, cringing when the wound from his ear injury began to strike pain throughout that side of his body. George screwed his eyes shut, locking his jaw to prevent himself from groaning out in pain and waking you. Once the pain subsided, he looked down at you again, “Maybe one day I’ll tell you but for now, this confession just has to do.”

“Be safe, okay?” you mumbled, face in George’s chest.

The Battle of Hogwarts was about to start. You could feel it in your bones— something big was coming and you couldn’t calm your nerves because of it. You looked around, watching everyone cling onto each other like it would be the last time they’d see each other. It was then that you realized that for some people, it might be. You shuddered at the thought, holding him tighter.

“Easy, Y/N,” he chuckled, but he didn’t make any movements to pull you away from him. He rubbed your back, “The Death Eaters won’t get a chance to kill me because your grip is gonna take me out before they do.”

You scoffed, pulling away to swat him on the chest, “You git.”

“Just trying to diffuse the tension,” he hummed, “Promise you’ll be waiting for me after all of this is over?”

“Always, Georgie,” you mumbled before turning to face the other twin. Your face flushed red as Fred stared down at you. You wrapped your arms around his body, inhaling his scent, “You be safe too, Freddie. Please?”

George watched as you held onto his brother, a bit longer for it to be considered friendly. Fred couldn’t have been more oblivious to your subtle tells. George took note of the redness on your cheeks and your much worried expression as you ran through the different scenarios on how you might lose Fred. He also noticed the way your knuckles almost turned white with how hard you were gripping onto Fred’s clothes, like you were afraid he would slip away from your touch.

He stayed silent, watching you love Fred the way he wished to be loved by you.

Fred rocked your bodies back and forth, “No promises, darling. You know how reckless I can be.”

“If I don’t see you back here after all of this is over, I will kill you myself. You’ll be dead twice, if I have any say.”

“Three times,” George chimed in, eyes watery from the sight in front of him, “I’ll kill you too if you tried to leave us, Freddie.”

“Does that mean I’d get three funerals?” Fred inquired, quirking his eyebrow up at the idea. “Could be nice to be the center of attention three times.”

You rolled your eyes, getting ready to send another remark his way, until a loud explosion caught your attention. Your heart dropped to your stomach. The battle had begun.

The twins gave each other a look before they sandwiched you in a hug. You basked in their warmth— unbeknownst to you, for the last time. When they finally pulled away, they sent you a sad smile and began to walk to their designated post. You watched as Fred nudged his brother’s side, a tell that he just told a joke to try to lift the mood. George’s shoulder rose up and down a bit before he threw an arm over Fred, pulling him close. You stared at them until their figures became one with the darkness of the corridor.

As they stepped out into the night air, George couldn’t help but look up into the sky, the explosions reminding him of the fireworks they set off to mess with Umbridge. Fred seemed to have the same idea as he laughed quietly beside his brother. It wasn’t until the shield around Hogwarts began to crumble, did the life drain out of Fred’s face.

George looked over to his brother, “You okay, Freddie?”

Gulping, he responded, “Yeah.”

George sent a sad smile his way, holding his wand tightly in his hand, “Me too.”

Fred finally met his brother’s eyes, returning the same smile. He looked down at his wand, then back at the sky, then back to his brother. As the most recent explosion began to quiet down, he spoke up, “When are you gonna tell her?”

“Huh?”

“Y/N,” Fred said, “When are you gonna tell her that you fancy her, mate?”

The younger twin blushed, the tips of his ears turning an embarrassing shade of crimson, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You reckon I’m that stupid?”

“Yeah, I do,” George teased, trying to savor these final moments before it all starts with his brother. He tried to drown out the noise coming from the scenes in front of him, giving all his focus to Fred.

“Git,” Fred laughed, “But seriously, you should tell Y/N.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, shifting his attention to the growing crack in the shield, “Maybe after all of this is over.”

“Let me know how it goes?”

George licked his lips, contemplating if he should tell his brother that there was no way he would tell you how he felt, knowing that you were in love with him. Deciding against it, George nodded, “‘Course.”

It was all a blur.

Fred and Percy were joking around. They were joking around. George couldn’t recall the last time he heard Percy laugh, nor could he recall the last time Fred voluntarily talked to Percy. He was always the one who could hold a grudge longer between the two of them. George had looked over his shoulder at the sound of his twin’s infectious laughter. He couldn’t control himself, he let out an airy chuckle at the sound, but then his face dropped when the explosion hit.

Without another thought, George ran to the place where he last saw his brothers. Smoke and debris polluted the air, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get to his brothers. Percy’s cries were muffled and if it was any other situation, George would’ve made an ear-related joke about how he couldn’t hear Percy because of his misfortunes, but he couldn’t bring himself to joke around. He couldn’t bring himself to talk. Merlin, he could barely bring himself to breathe because right in front of him, laid the unmoving body of his twin brother, a smile still etched on his face.

George crumbled to his feet, unable to mutter any other word besides his brother’s name.

When you found out the news, you were held by your shoulders by Hermione. She kept you outside of the doors and told you to brace yourself, but the minute her jumbled words became coherent in your mind, you pushed past her and ran to the group of redheads.

“No,” you mumbled, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “No, Fred.”

You stopped in your tracks when you saw George pull Ron into his arms, grief and loss evident on his face. Your feet wouldn’t move from the spot where you stopped. You shook uncontrollably, watching as every Weasley crowded around Fred’s body. George heard your sobs and immediately ran to you, wrapping his arms around you. You couldn’t bring yourself to wrap your arms around him, afraid that if you touched him, touched anyone, it would mean that this was actually happening— that Fred was actually dead. It wasn’t a reality you were ready to accept yet.

“Y/N,” George sobbed, his face buried in the crook of your neck, “Fred.”

When George said his name out loud, you caved. You broke in his arms, screaming in agony as you watched Molly and Arthur cry over his body. You held George in your arms, “Georgie…”

“Shh,” he cooed, sniffling quietly, “I know.”

You and George stayed with Fred. Neither one of you wanted to leave him. Everyone else couldn’t handle the pain of seeing him unmoving on the floor. It wasn’t long before others walked away to get some fresh air or ran around trying to keep themselves busy. You and George, however, found no energy left in your body to keep fighting.

“You know,” George started, his voice hoarse from crying too much, “I always thought me and him would go together. Prank gone wrong at the elderly home or something like that.”

A humorless laugh slipped past your lips, staring intently at Fred’s body as if he would slip up and move like he was alive, “I could see that.”

“Me too,” he said, “Didn’t expect it to go down like this.”

“I didn’t either.”

“Do you..” George trailed off, eyes flickering to you. You glanced at him, taking in his broken expression. He looked drained, like the life was pulled out of him, and maybe, it was. He stayed silent for a minute, gathering his thoughts, “I feel like I lost the other half of me. I don’t feel whole anymore.”

“George..”

“I didn’t think it would hurt this much,” he sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “I didn’t think losing him would feel like I couldn’t breathe anymore, you know? I didn’t think it would feel like he just ripped me in pieces and took parts of me to go with him. I know we’re twins, but blimey, I didn’t think he meant it literally when he said we’ll always have a piece of each other.”

You laughed slightly at his attempt to make a joke. You leaned into his body, letting his arm wrap itself securely around you. You whispered into the air, “Is it bad that I miss him already?”

“No,” he replied, kissing your temple, “I do too.”

“Godric, we sound like saps,” you giggled, wiping your tears from your face, “I bet he’s watching us right now, rejoicing because he got the attention he wanted.”

“Yeah,” George laughed.

You stayed silent after that, letting the echoes of your short-lived laughter ring throughout the silent halls. Both of you knew Fred wouldn’t want you to sit and cry over his death. You knew that he would want you to keep fighting, to continue what he couldn’t. And as much as you and George wanted to respect his wishes, you couldn’t do it. So you took the next few minutes, sitting in silence, staring at Fred’s chest intently, hoping that it would rise and fall one last time.

It killed George— watching his best friend lay frozen on the ground like that. He felt guilty, like he should’ve been the one to go or at the very least, gone with him. He thought about their final words to each other, how you were the topic of their conversation. He began to think about you and how it must’ve been so painful knowing that the guy you loved died without knowing how you felt. Fred’s words bounced in his head, “When are you gonna tell her that you fancy her, mate?”

Before the battles began to pick up again, he tugged your body closer to his, “Y/N?”

You looked up at him, tired eyes bloodshot red from crying. You nodded, “Yes?”

“I know this is probably the worst time to do this,” he sighed, running his free hand through his hair. He stared down at you, trying to analyze the puzzled look on your face, “But I don’t think I can hold it in any longer.”

“What’s going on, George?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze dropped to your feet. You froze in his arms, slowly untangling his body from yours. A part of you thought that you were hearing things because what just came out of his mouth was absurd. You shook your head, unable to look at him in the eyes, “What are you talking about?”

A pang of hurt hit his chest, his heart breaking at the sight of your retreating from his touch. George cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, “I’m in love with you.”

You stepped back, a hand over your mouth. Your mind was racing, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. He couldn’t possibly be in love with you. Panicked, you let your eyes dart over to Fred, the feeling of love and adoration washing over your body. No, you decided, George couldn’t be in love with me because I love Fred.

As if reading your mind, George spoke again. His voice was shaky, “I know you don’t feel the same way. I see the way you look at Fred. I’m not looking for anything here. I just— I couldn’t let anything else happen without telling you how I feel.”

You stayed away, a small distance separating you from the younger twin. You chewed nervously on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. George watched you shake, tears rapidly slipping down your cheeks. He wanted nothing else but to wrap his arms around you and hold you until everything was all better, except this time, he didn’t know if things would get better. He let himself sit in the uncomfortable silence for a while, rocking on the balls of his feet. Before you could walk away, he spoke again, “Why can’t you look at me?”

The sheer brokenness in his voice made you look up at him. He was still your best friend and hearing him under so much pain nearly ruined you. You looked at him for the first time since his confession. The only light that was left in his eyes was now gone, one with the same darkness that took his brother. He was pleading with his eyes, hoping that you’d find it in your heart to stay— at least for the time being.

“George,” you sighed, rubbing your face with your hands, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he gulped, kicking the stray pebbles around his feet, “I didn’t tell you this to gain something out of it but you’re still my best friend and I couldn’t go on without telling you.”

“You’re my best friend too,” you sniffled, looking over at him, “But you’re mourning. I don’t think you’re in the right mind to speak of these confessions.”

George had no energy left in his body to argue so he just merely nodded. He knew— he was certain that he loved you— that this wasn’t just his grief talking. It was him, his feelings, his love for you. He just finally had enough guts to say it out loud for once. But he knew he couldn’t convince you of it, so he just agreed. George watched you take a step towards him, his heart swelling with joy at the small movement. If he had to lie to himself, lie to you, one more time to get you to stay, then he’ll be selfish for the day and do it.

You walked closer to him, the tension in the air beginning to subside. You wrapped your arms around his shaking body. George rested his head in the crook of your neck, “Can we just pretend for one day that you love me?”

And you felt it then— the truth behind his confession, the meaning behind his words. You knew then that George Weasley was in love with you, the same way you were in love with his twin. Your better judgement had told you to pull away before you led him on. You knew it wasn’t right the way you held him in your arms and let him fall apart under your touch. But he was your best friend and if your best friend is hurting, you do anything in your power to make him feel better— even if you have to pretend.

“Yeah,” you whispered, “We can.”

TAGS: @rexorangecouny @somethingchaotic @heloisedaphnebrightmore

A/N: i really love the “just tying to diffuse the tension” line that i had to write it in; although george says it here lol

#weasleysflowr300wc #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #frances x taylor swift x harry potter #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x yn #george weasley x reader #george weasley one shot #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x yn #fred weasley one shot #frances writes #frances song fics

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

Secrets ~ 1

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

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

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Bruh, other series are still going. At least one update a week for existing series in future, I promise! Probably more.

This was semi-inspired by The Princess Diaries but obviously we’re not going highschool.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You found it hard to focus on the lecture. You copied the slides without processing the words. You couldn’t tear your mind from the unusual stranger. The one who had slipped from the room not ten minutes earlier. The one no one else seemed to notice; even the professor as she outlined the fall of the Roman Empire.

You did because you were early every week. You sat in the same seat, pulled out your notebook and pen, and put your phone on silent. You’d worked too long to screw this up. Years of saving and scrounging just to pay the application fee, bursaries awarded for your volunteer work and nearly forgotten extracurriculars from high school.

So, you noticed. The man sat in the back row with not a possession before him. Silent, discerning, and to be frank, a bit too old for the student body. Even you, after several years away from academics, thought so. You used the reflection in your phone screen to watch him and when he stood and left without cause, you angled it after his departure.

Perhaps he had come to the wrong room. Or maybe he had got the wrong time. He could be an older student or a guest speaker. Whatever he was, he was gone and you needed to focus. You didn’t have much time outside of class to revise your notes. Between your job at the campus bookstore and your intern position at the museum, you didn’t have time for anything beyond a few hours sleep.

You packed up as the lecture came to an end. Tuesdays, Professor Halren went over the week’s material and Thursdays you had a class discussion on the assigned articles. Basic, simple, but at least eighty pages of reading a week. You climbed the steps between the rows of tables and passed through the upper doors. The east entrance down the rear stairwell was the quickest exit.

You tossed your bag in the passenger seat of your crummy used Honda, parked in front of the burger joint several blocks away from campus parking. It cost you more to park on-site than it did for the beat-up contraption itself.

You drove to the museum and got out, your lanyard around your neck denoting you as a volunteer. You usually worked the help desk or handed out pamphlets for upcoming tours. Most of the time it was quiet enough for you to study in between visitors.

Sheila was the curator on duty that night. She kept to her office, saying she trusted you to direct the rare patrons who arrived on a Tuesday night. As expected, it was dead. You wandered around with textbook in hand, occasionally looking up to check that you were alone.

There was a man by the chart of Greek gods and their relations. A spiderweb with no end. You closed your book and quietly set it down on the nearest bench as you kept an eye on the man. It was him, the one from the lecture hall. A frightening coincidence. He leaned closer to the diagram then turned away, walking, no marching along the wall and rounding the corner into the next section.

Your heart was beating; in confusion and fear. You followed, carefully not to let your shoes click as you did. As you reached the next corridor, he was nowhere to be seen. You continued on, around corner and corner, on and on, looking up and down the walkways. He was gone.

You came back to the bench where you left your textbook. You glanced around one last time and opened it. Behind the cover was a ribbon, a tricade of red, white, and blue, a star emblazoned three-quarters of the way up embroidered in gold and silver. You’d seen it before but none so new as this.

You held it up and felt it between your fingers. You closed the book again and tucked it under your arm. You went to the next wing; medieval history. You walked along the timeline of European kingdoms, below each was a display of royal families of each.

The same ribbon, aged and frayed, laid beneath the kingdom of Astrania, marked by the house of Rogers. A long storied bloodline thrust in and out of power by civil wars and politics well into the twentieth century. A country that stood still, one of the few who still lauded a monarch, as famous as the Windsors in England and beyond. The last vestiges of long lost era.

You shoved the ribbon in your pocket. It was likely a souvenir from some commodified tour of the country. A forgotten novelty sold for pennies and shoved into a used textbook. You shrugged and headed back to your usual spot among the ancient civilizations. Strange things happened. That was life.

👑

You spent your few hours before midnight writing up your rough draft for Life and Death in Ancient Greece then finally crashed. You slept on your back, uncomfortably; a heavy, exhausted sleep. You woke to voices. Your mother’s and another. One you didn’t know.

You checked the time, it was barely seven in the morning. You grumbled as you sat up. Your mother’s tone set you on edge as her voice rose. You stood and crossed to the door. You turned the handle slowly, listening through the crack of the door as you eased it open.

“You get out of my house.” She snarled. You’d never heard her sound so vicious. “I am not that person anymore. I never was.”

“You can hide behind a name,” The deep voice replied evenly. “It doesn’t change your real one.”

“My father is dead, his name died with him.” She hissed. “I won’t tell you again to leave.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll call the police, asshole.”

“I’ve been sent here under the banner of diplomacy, what are they gonna do?”

You stepped out as the argument continued, your mother growing angrier as you tiptoed down the hallway to the kitchen. She grabbed a frying pan from the dish rack as you stopped in the doorway and she waved it at the man standing on the other side of the table.

“I’ll just have to make you,” She warned. “Now go--”

“Mum,” You rubbed your eyes. “What’s going on?” You looked to the man as he turned to look at you. It was the same man from the day before. You recoiled and pressed yourself to the wall. “Who is that?”

“No one. He’s leaving.” She edged around the table and drew back the frying pan.

He didn’t move. She swung and he caught the pan as his palm deflected it away from his head. He wrenched it away from her and tossed it away.

“Sit down, your highness,” He glared at your mother as he clanked the pan against the table.

You frowned and looked at your mother. Her eyes glinted at you and she shook her head.

“You will not tell my daughter what to do,” She scowled. “Not in my house.”

“You can send me away now, but I’ll be back.” He looked around the kitchen. “Looks like you can afford a fine lawyer, indeed.”

“Lawyer?” Your mother spat.

“There’s a contract, Princess,” He sneered.

“There is no kingdom left. No crown, no throne.” Your mother neared and grabbed your wrist, drawing you to her. “My daughter does not belong to anyone.”

“Your own father signed the accord. We paid our dues, even after his fall, we expect you to fulfill your end of the contract.”

“My father is dead,” She pushed in front of you, shielding you from the man. His square jaw twitched and his blue eyes glimmered defiantly.

“As his heir, you would acquire his responsibility. She is his first born granddaughter.” The man asserted.

“She has no title.” Your mother insisted. “You can see we have no wealth, no holdings. We are displaced; we are common.”

“Princess Karissa of Ecklun,” The man addressed your mother, “Her daughter, Duchess of Brey. You needn’t land to uphold your titles… and your obligations.”

“The contract is old. Outdated.” Your mother countered. “There are other duchesses. Real ones.”

“The contract is legal still, it has been upheld to this point and there is no clause for annulment. Unless of course you have the funds to buy out the agreement.” He challenged. “Fifteen million, with interest.”

Your mother was silent. He hand squeezed your wrist.

“I never received any of these payments you claim to have made,” She said.

“In a trust, as stated in the contract, to be accessible upon the day of marriage.” He declared. “If you insist, however, I can return with my legal council… and a military escort.”

Your mother let out a long breath. She released you and shakily pulled out a chair from the table. “Sit,” She gestured you forward and drew another chair out. “I’ll entertain your… discussion.”

You stepped forward and sat and she did too. The man across from you lowered himself into another chair and set down his briefcase on the floor. He reached inside and drew out a bundle of papers. He slid them across to your mother.

“If you’d like to look over the terms,” He smirked. “You’ll see all is as I said.”

“He couldn’t find another bride?” She spat as she ignored the contract.

“Not legally.” He insisted and looked at you. “Forgive me. I didn’t introduce myself, your highness. James Barnes, I am a representative of the Astranian court.”

“I don’t--” You blinked. “I don’t understand what’s--”

“Yes, apparently your mother has created a convincing ruse here in this… slum,” He sighed. “What do you know of your grandfather?”

“Don’t talk to her.” Your mother snipped. “Talk to me.”

“She must know--”

“I will explain. That is my responsibility. My right.” She sneered and grabbed the papers.

She flipped the first page, then the second, she continued as she hastily read through it. You peeked over her shoulder but she kept turning away to block you. When she finished, she turned it face down.

“You signed it, Princess,” The man said.

“I was sixteen.” She said. “I was still a child.”

“You were a married woman.” He returned.

“A girl forced into a ring.” She slapped the paper. “And you would have me do the same to my daughter?”

“You already did,” He said plainly. “And she is older. Quite a few years, in fact.”

“It took you years to find us,” She grinned. “You think you’ll be as lucky again?”

“You are being watched. You have been watched.” He pushed his shoulders back. “We have waited long enough.”

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” You said.

The man, Barnes, looked at you. Appalled.

“I will,” Your mother squeezed your arm. “Mr. Barnes.” She turned back to him, her head held high. “Might you allow me some time to prepare?”

“To run?” He challenged.

“If we are being watched as you say, that should not be an issue,” She sniffed. “You must understand the circumstance.”

“I do understand your negligence,” He raised a brow. “One day. That is all I can allow you.”

He left the contract and stood. He took his briefcase and nodded to the table. “A copy for your records.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card and flicked it onto the document. “My information should you require it.”

He bowed his head and turned to leave you. The door opened and closed loudly as he strode out the back door. You sat, perplexed, and reached for the contract. Your mother caught your hand. She turned to you and drew your hand back with her.

“Honey,” She said softly. “I need you to listen to me. Just-- don’t talk, just listen.”

“Mum, I--”

“You’re going to hate me. I know that hate, I felt the same for my own father. I would not blame you for hating me even more than that.” She said grimly. “But please, there is much I need to tell you. That I should’ve told you before.”

“I don’t-- I don’t understand.” You sputtered.

“So just listen,” She pleaded. You nodded and your stomach bubbled nervously. “You’ve heard of Ecklun? You were always so fond of history.” You confirmed and she continued on. “And Astrania. Occasional allies until the dissolution of the former… but that all doesn’t matter.”

Your mother hung her head.

“My father knew the tide was against him. He tried to rally his reinforcements, he made promises to those he thought could help. He was the king, you see? He was dethroned, we were all thrown out of the country. I tried to… stay with him. Tried to make him move on but he wouldn’t. So after I had you, I left. Your father didn’t want to let go either and he refused to come with me.”

She touched her cheek and shuddered.

“It was all gone so I thought that meant it was over. Everything. The promises, the debts.” She shook her head. “I tried so hard to start over. For you. But… Your grandfather promised you to the heir of Astrania to fund his personal guard. The same that ejected us from our home.”

She twined her fingers together then pulled them apart. She gulped before she found her voice again.

“That heir is now in power,” She could barely look at you. “And you… you are to be his wife.”

“I-- no, they can’t-- it--”

“I thought I could stop it. I didn’t think they’d want it still but-- I always hated how backwards it all was. Bloodlines, lineage, privilege… It was all so ridiculous.” She huffed. “I-- tried. I failed.”

“You ran once, we can--”

“That man found me. I am not foolish to think he did not come with back-up. I have seen what happens when you undermine others. I have seen the ugliness of it. I can’t say what’s worse; to let them have you or to refuse and suffer further. You don’t know how-- I was stupid enough to think I could ever outpace them.”

You gaped at her. Shocked, angry, sickened.

“And now I can’t stop them.” She uttered.

“You didn’t tell me,” You breathed. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry--”

“I have school, work...I… No, they can’t. I have a life!” You stood and the chair wobbled.

“Honey, please,” She got to her feet. “I know how it feels. Trust me. My father, he did the same--”

“So what? Family tradition?” You scoffed. “They can’t make me. I’m staying. I’m going to school, I’m working. I’m not--”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I won’t go!” You shouted.

“They’ll make you.”

“How?”

She looked at you. Her face was grim, her wrinkles more apparent than ever before. She didn’t need to say.

“They can’t--”

“They’ll find a way.” She muttered. “They always do. I’m so so sor--”

“So I’ll make them drag me,” You said. “I’ll fight it.”

“It’s treason--”

“It’s the twenty-first century!”

“Not there. It’s not the same as here. There’s no one to stop them.”

You didn’t know what to say. You hit the table and swore. You stormed from the room and slammed your door before you fell onto the bed and screamed into your pillows.

It was a dream. It had to be a dream!

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years ago

Text

Aaron Hotchner / Reminders and Reunions

Request: You and Hotch attend his high military school reunion together

Warnings: fluff, some angst, mentions of hotch’s dad, brief mention of what happens in “100,” some harassment by a dude, hotch saving the day, a little possessiveness from reader,

Word Count: 3.155

“Are you ready yet?” You called from the bedroom, slinging your laptop bag over your shoulder, as you glanced back at the closed bathroom door, "Aaron, just because you stop replying doesn't mean you can trick me into forgetting about the reunion."

"Are you sure?" You chuckle, turning as the door opened. You raised your eyebrows, watching him adjust his black suit coat, a crisp white button down underneath with a red tie — and you didn't miss the engraved silver tie clip you had bought him on your first anniversary, "because I have other ways of making you forget." He adds, raising an eyebrow at your gaping mouth and lingering stare.

And yet he can still make your cheeks burn, rolling your eyes, as he faces the mirror giving you a very nice view of his ass, “Nothing could make me forget this — not even your cute ass.”

He came close enough though.

He sighs, adjusting his tie in the mirror before you rise, walking around him and taking the tie from his fingers. You make quick work of fixing the knot yourself, a tired habit at this point because even though he was fully capable of doing it himself, he loved to have you do it. His eyes softened as he watched you, his fingers brushing down the length of your sides, pausing at your hips, “Do we have to go? More importantly, do I have to go without you? Can’t I just wait for you?”

“When you’re being honored at your high school for your service in the FBI? I don’t think so,” you smile up at him, your fingers finding his cheek. He leaned into your touch, despite his growing frown.

“It’s military school,” he corrected you, lips a thin line now.

“Yes, because you were a troublemaker — how could I forget?” He covers your hand with his own with a sigh, the corners of his mouths twitching, but still very much in a frown, “come on, I’ll be there soon enough. I just to—”

“Drop something off to the office, I know,” he finished. You hum, as your arms wrap around his neck, his large palms grasping at your waist, slipping to your lower back. His lips are only a breath away, his lips nearly ghosting your own, your fingers toying with the hair that rested on his neck.

“Tell me again how you know me so well,” he leans down, pressing a kiss to your now thrumming pulsepoint and he chuckles, the vibration sending a shiver down your neck. Another kiss pressed now to your collarbone, his fingers tug the collar of your shirt back, and he smiles against your skin.

“Might be the profiling,” he hums, as you tilt his head back up to look at you again, “might be the holy matrimony.” and you don’t miss the way the metal band of his ring grazes your cheek as he cups it.

“I knew I married you for a reason,” you smile against his lips as he kisses you, lips sliding together, parting as you giggled, “profiling makes being passive-aggressive so much easier.”

He scoffs, slowly walking you backwards towards the bed, the bag slipping from your shoulder, “And here I thought you married me for my good looks,”

“That too,” you murmur, as he presses you against the foot of the bed, “you’re doing a good job at that distracting thing,” and his lips find yours again, noses bumping, and your hands find his shoulders, finding it hard to say the next words that reluctantly leave your lips, “but you still have to go.”

“But we could have our own fun here,” his voice is husky, and you know he’s right — you can think of several examples from this morning alone of ways you two could have fun, several of which involve the very tie around his neck, but—

“Is there a reason you are so insistent on not going?” you tilt your head, as his gaze drops, “because we really don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought it would be a nice way to reflect on how far you’ve come.”

“I’ve come far?” and you roll your eyes, before pulling him onto the bed, your leg over his. You only wished you could really articulate how far he’s really come, how far you’ve seen him grow, how far you know he will grow in the future — but you can’t. Not really. You could list the things he’s done, the things he’s accomplished, the things he’s gained, the things he’s lived through — but nothing would do it service, nothing at all. Because words were incomparable to Aaron Hotchner, and you supposed, your fingers tracing his jaw, that’s why you married him.

“I know you have — I’ve seen it,” your thumb brushes his chin, brushing his bottom lip and he kisses the pad, “and I can’t wait to see where else you go. But the reunion doesn’t have to be one of them, if you don’t want to. I just thought it might be a good reminder.”

He sighs, “I haven’t been there since my graduation — did you know that was one of the last time I ever spoke to him?”

And you purse your lips, watching the muscle in his jaw clenching, his fingers digging into his knee, “I didn’t know that — I knew you hadn’t spoken to him since military school but—”

He gives a bitter chuckle, “I didn’t even invite him — the school did,” he leans over, elbow propped against his knee, “It was the first time in my life I felt like I didn’t have to answer to him. It was the first time I was able to walk away from him and choose something for myself. And I chose to cut him out,” he rubbed at his chin, as your arms winded around his, one arm around his back and the other around his arm, “It wasn’t until he was sick, dying in the hospital that I ever saw him again, and by then...it was too late for words.” The weight of the words pressed against his chest still, a weight that would never ease from him, but your fingers intertwined with his, but one you hoped you could help bear.

“Aaron—”

“I don’t regret what I did, to him, at least,” he shook his head, eyes glassy, “do I regret leaving Sean there? Yes. Do I wish I could have seen my mom more? Of course. But,” his eyes flicker to the dresser, lined with photos of your family — of him, Jack, Haley, you, and the team, and then back to you, “it’s what got me here,” he presses his forehead to yours, “it's what got me to you.”

“If I have to thank that man for anything, and it’s very, very little,” he chuckles, as your fingers find his cheek again, “I would thank him for you existing, and for whatever he did or didn’t do, because you’re Aaron Hotchner because of it,” and then you shrug before adding, “and then I’d punch him in the face, but that’s besides the point.”

He laughs, leaning forward to kiss you, pressing both of you into the soft mattress, his lips tasting of the bitter dark roast he preferred dancing in contrast to the sweet taste of something unmistakably him, “I love you,”

“Right back at you,” you murmur, pulling him to you again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you curse under your breath, a colorful string of expletives that you hope no one caught wind of as you bustled down the street, only two minutes away from the venue, according to your phone. You promised to be there half an hour ago, but of course, someone had to screw up your paperwork, and it took five times longer to fix then it did to actually submit it.

Lovely.

And now you were late to the event that you had convinced Aaron to attend. His short, terse text message didn’t bode well of his time there without you, but you would be sure to make it up to him tonight. Trying to even your breath, you found the building, adjusting your hair and your clothes — you barely had enough time to change at the office. You were sure you terrified half the people in that office tonight, but you would apologize tomorrow — it was the only way you could get here on time tonight.

And you did, pushing the front door open.

Barely.

You found your way to the room where the alumni were dining. No signs present — didn’t think that would be helpful would they?

“Are you looking for the reunion?” a voice asked. You snapped your head to find a man standing beside you, a little too close for comfort. His snarmy voice matched his blonde slicked back hairdo, and his sleazy smile had you w “I couldn’t help but notice you looking utterly lost.”

“I am,” you take a step back, shoving your disgust away, “can you point me in the right direction?”

“I can, but I don’t believe I recognize you,” the man’s hands slips into his pockets, tongue darting out to lick his lips. You barely can hide your disgust, “You’re not crashing the party are you? It would very bad of you,” his teeth graze his bottom lip, his fingers running through his slicked back hair, “But I would be willing to teach you a lesson.”

“I’ll pass on the lesson,” you keep your voice tight, knowing you would catch more flies with sugar then you would with vinegar and right now, you needed this fucking fly to tell you where the reunion was, “I’m not crashing, I just need to know where—” he tilts his head, jerking it towards two double doors down the hall.

“It’s right through there,” and you head towards the doors, “I’ll see you in there.” he calls after you, and you shudder, right before you push through the double doors. A few eyes flicker to you as the door shuts softly behind you, but none of them Aaron’s.

You bit your lip, scanning the crowd for him. You hoped you didn’t miss it — not after you had persuaded him to come, not after how hard it was for him to be here. But you didn’t, you know you didn’t when you find him on the stairs to the stage, his presence and posture undeniably too Aaron to miss.

There’s a tapping on the microphone as the feedback reverberates through the room, “We wanted to honor a certain alumnus tonight,” a man’s voice booms over the microphone, “From here, he went onto George Washington University and then graduated law school summa cum laude. He eventually became one of the finest prosecutors in D.C. before joining the F.B.I.’s behavioral analysis unit, where he catches serial killers for a living. He is upstanding, true to his convictions, and represents the morals we wish our alumni to embody — Aaron Hotchner.”

He steps onto stage, and you catch his eye despite the flashing cameras and roar of the crowd — he had plenty of practice after all. His lips curl into a small smile when he sees you, a nod, as he steps beside the announcer.

“We would like to present to you with our distinguished alumni award,” he places the glass award in Aaron’s hand, shaking his hand with the other, as the room erupts into applause, “please, say a few words.”

He blinks, stepping in front of the podium, clearing his throat before he speaks, “The last time I was here was our graduation. Like many of you, I had been sent here — for one reason or another we all ended up here. And I have a lot of bad memories associated with this place, as do we all. But it was a jumping off point — it took us places, it helped us find the right people,” his eyes find yours again, “and it helped us become the people we are today. It’s a good reminder, a needed one,” he holds the award up again, “Thank you.”

The applause explodes around you, seats scraping against the floor as several rose to their feet, as he left the stage, walking over to shake his hand. You hang back, smiling as you watched him greet familiar faces. And you knew it was good for him to come here.

“Still here, huh?” an unwelcome presence finds you again, slicked back hair and all — he did promise that he would see you again. Persistent, like a rash. But now this rash has turned into a full blown infection, with drink in hand, the aroma of beer wafting with every word he spoke at you, “I still can’t place you.”

“That’s because you don’t,” you cross your arms, “I didn’t go here.”

“Oh I can place you,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, “how about in my bed tonight?”

You laugh, “I think you’re hallucinating,” still craning your neck to only find Aaron had disappeared into the throng of people by the stage.

Irritation begins to creep into his voice, “I think you’d ought to have a little more respect for the alumni here, if there’s one thing they teach you here is to have respect for everyone.”

“Well I didn’t go here, and the one thing I’ve learned is that people like you don’t deserve an ounce of respect,” you cross your arms, not bothering to look at him, “or acknowledgement. So why don’t you fuck off and leave me alone?”

A tension began to ebb at your nerves. Logically, you knew you were okay — a crowded room, full of other people, your husband included who was a federal agent and had his gun on him — but still. Still — he was still physically larger than you, and possibly stronger. And if you weren’t in this room full of people, it could be a much different story.

But I am in this room, you reminded yourself. You are.

“Come on, who could you have more fun going home with tonight?

“I have a few ideas,” Aaron slides beside you, his arm curling around your waist, FBI agent voice fully in action, his head ducking to press a kiss to your shoulder, “myself namely, but also every other person on the planet.

“Hotchner,” the man scoffs, “Hotchner, congrats on the award,” his lips are a thin line, “you gonna put that up on your mantle with all your report cards? I thought you were much too busy to grace me with your presence.”

“Never too busy for my spouse,” and you lean into Aaron’s touch, “something you should know well, Mason. Aren’t you still married?” as he tilts his head at the now dubbed Mason, who gapes at the two of you, as you grin brightly at him.

“Nice to meet you, Mason,” you hold out your hand, savoring the slack jawed expression on his face, “You’re married that’s nice. I see it isn’t going too well, and I wonder why that could be.”

“I didn’t know you got married again, Hotchner,” he crosses his arms, “try not to get this one killed—”

You surge forward, but Aaron holds you back, as you glare daggers at the fucking prick. You clench your jaw, your fingers fisting in the sleeves of his jacket. You needed to let him fight his own battles, and you knew he could — didn’t mean you wanted to punch him any less.

“You know I’ve dealt with worse bullies than you, Mason, before and after you started shoving my head in a locker, and I’m not scared of you anymore,” you squeezed his hand, and he intertwined his fingers with yours, as he slid beside you, Actually, it’s nice to see some things haven’t changed around here.”

The man surges forward, red in the face, but Aaron stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder. The room grows silent, and you feel the eyes of at least fifty alums dig into your sides, “Stop clinging to the past, and grow up,” Mason jerks his hand away, heading towards the exit, “I suggest you leave now. Unless you want to leave here in—”

“Fuck you, Hotchner,” he says as the door slams behind him, and the chatter creeps back into the room.

You scoff, swallowing the anger sitting on your throat, “Couldn’t even say it to your face,” you face him, his expression inscrutable as ever. Your fingers find his cheek, and he basks in your touch, a sigh on his lips, “you know you need a horse and a cape when you do that.”

He chuckles, and relief floods you at the small smile on his lips, “I’ll come more prepared next time,” he glances at the door that Mason had just left through, and your fingers find his, squeezing his hand.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes flicker back to you, “I should be asking you that.”

“He didn’t do anything besides make my ears bleed,” you huff, pulling him closer, his face in your hands, his eyes nearly glassy, “Now you didn’t answer my question — are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he shakes his head, rubbing his thumb across your cheek, “I finally have some good memories here, and I feel like I actually shut this chapter of my life closed after all this time. And this place doesn’t seem so scary now — it’s smaller than I remember. And so are the people.”

“Should we find Mason and see if we can prove that theory?” he snorts, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, lips lingering for a moment, before he presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, “do you want to stay a little longer or go? If we’re staying, I’m going to need you to say I love you a little louder in front of the group of women currently ogling you.”

“Jealous?” he laughs, kissing your forehead, tilting your chin up, as your hands slide around his neck.

“Possessive,” you kiss him, his lips smiling against yours, his fingers twisted in your hair to pull you closer, and your hand drifted to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thud under your touch, “Mine.”

“I think we’ve made that clear enough now,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your pulse, “Now, I think we should leave because I believe I was promised some fun after this.”

“Really?” you scrunch your nose, “I don’t recall.”

And he pulls you through the double doors and out towards the deserted parking lot, pressing you against the car with a kiss, towering over you, as you tugged him closer by his lapels, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, “Let me remind you.”

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