#today my plan is to work on my essays more!!!!

[upperranktwo]

Good morning :3 ♡

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

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[enhaflixer]

hogwarts time travel au! traveling to the future and waking up MARRIED PART 1

slytherin!riki x gryffindor!reader PART 2 HERE

warnings: time travel, sex, kissing, lots of kissing, kinda angsty, they have two kids, there are pranks and rivalry and its just real cute im ngl

-

The library had been blissfully quiet for exactly forty-three minutes. You'd counted. Forty-three minutes of peaceful study, undisturbed concentration, and actual progress on your Transfiguration essay. Which meant you were overdue for—

A paper crane swooped down from nowhere, circling your head three times before unfolding itself atop your carefully organized notes. The parchment fluttered open to reveal a doodle of what appeared to be you with steam coming out of your ears and your hair standing on end. Beneath it, elegant script that you unfortunately recognized immediately:

Looking a bit tense today, Gryffindork. Did someone hide your color-coded study schedule again?

You closed your eyes and counted to ten, but only made it to four before the sound of poorly suppressed laughter broke your concentration. Across the library, lounging in a chair as though he owned the place, sat Nishimura Riki. The bane of your existence for seven consecutive years.

"Real mature," you muttered, crumpling the parchment and tossing it over your shoulder.

The paper froze mid-air, reversed direction, and neatly unfolded itself before landing back on your textbook.

"That's littering, you know," Riki called, just loud enough to make Madam Pince shoot you both a warning glare. "Not very environmentally conscious of you."

You stabbed your quill into your inkpot with unnecessary force. "Some of us are trying to study for our N.E.W.T.s like responsible seventh-years."

Riki stretched, his Slytherin tie deliberately loosened, black hair artfully tousled in that way that made half the school swoon and made you want to hex him bald. "Ah yes, another thrilling evening of revising information you memorized three months ago. Living the dream."

"Not everyone coasts by on natural talent and family connections," you shot back.

Something flashed in his dark eyes – irritation, perhaps – but his smirk never faltered. "Is that what you think? That I don't work for my grades?"

"I think," you said, gathering your belongings with precise movements, "that you spend more time planning elaborate pranks than studying, yet somehow maintain your position as second in our class."

"Second only to you," he said with an exaggerated bow. "Though not for lack of trying."

Your academic rivalry was legendary – seven years of trading the top spot back and forth, never more than a few points separating you. It would have been admirable if he wasn't so insufferable about it.

"Well, some of us can't afford to waste time," you said, shoving your books into your bag.

Riki pushed off his chair and sauntered over, dropping into the seat across from you without invitation. "You know what your problem is?"

"Currently? You're sitting at my table."

He leaned forward, undeterred. "You've forgotten how to have fun. When was the last time you did something just because it made you laugh?"

"I laugh plenty," you insisted, though the defensive tone in your voice betrayed you.

"At jokes in textbooks, maybe." He twirled his wand between his fingers – a nervous habit he'd had since first year. "You're seventeen going on seventy."

"And you're seventeen going on seven," you countered. "Wasn't it your enchanted water balloons that flooded the third floor yesterday?"

His grin widened. "Can't prove it was me."

"Professor Flitwick literally said, 'Impressive charm work, Mr. Nishimura, but please reserve it for your classwork.'"

"He appreciates creativity," Riki shrugged, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. "But that was nothing. Tomorrow's prank will be legendary."

Despite yourself, curiosity piqued. "What are you planning now?"

"Concerned for my academic future?" he teased. "Worried I might finally surpass you if I get expelled?"

"Worried about innocent bystanders," you corrected. "Your last 'legendary' prank turned the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team purple for a week."

"That was an accident," he protested, though his smile suggested otherwise. "The color was supposed to fade after twenty-four hours."

You rolled your eyes and stood up. "Well, whatever you're planning, leave me out of it. Some of us have actual goals beyond being remembered as Hogwarts' most annoying student."

His laugh followed you as you headed for the exit. "Come on! You know you'd be much happier if you loosened up a little!"

You resolutely ignored him, which was your standard approach to Nishimura Riki. Seven years of practice had proven it was the only way to maintain your sanity.

You should have known ignoring him wouldn't work. It never did.

The next morning, you woke to find every single one of your quills had been enchanted to write nothing but love poems. About him.

Eyes dark as midnight, smile sharp as wit, Nishimura Riki, quite the perfect fit...

"That's IT!" You stormed into the Great Hall, marching directly to the Slytherin table where Riki sat surrounded by his usual admirers. You slammed the offending quill down in front of him.

He looked up with infuriating innocence. "Problem?"

"Fix. My. Quills." Each word came through gritted teeth.

He inspected the quill with exaggerated care. "I'm flattered, truly, but I don't think I inspired this passionate declaration. Perhaps you've been harboring secret feelings?"

Several of his friends snickered. Your cheeks burned, but whether from anger or embarrassment, you refused to analyze.

"This isn't funny," you hissed. "I have a Charms practical in twenty minutes."

"Hmm." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That is a problem."

"A problem you created!"

"I suppose I could fix it..." he mused, "for a price."

You crossed your arms. "What price?"

His smile turned mischievous. "Admit that I'm the better duelist."

This was an ongoing point of contention. You'd been evenly matched in Defense Against the Dark Arts since third year, much to both your frustrations.

"Never," you declared. "I beat you fair and square last week."

"You caught me off-guard with that modified Impediment Jinx."

"Which is called strategy," you countered. "Something you might understand if you spent more time studying and less time being an insufferable prat."

He clutched his heart dramatically. "You wound me. And here I thought we were friends."

"We are not friends," you said firmly. "We have never been friends."

Something shifted in his expression – so briefly you might have imagined it – before his usual smirk returned. "Fine. I'll fix your quills because I'm magnanimous and mature."

You snorted.

He flicked his wand, muttering an incantation under his breath. "There. Crisis averted. Though I was looking forward to Professor Flitwick reading poetry about my 'raven locks' and 'quicksilver reflexes.'"

"You're impossible," you said, snatching back your quill.

He winked. "Yet somehow you put up with me."

"Not by choice," you grumbled, turning to leave.

"Oh, by the way," he called after you, "pink is definitely your color!"

You frowned, then caught your reflection in a silver platter. Your hair had turned bright, bubblegum pink.

"NISHIMURA!"

-

It took three counter-charms to fix your hair, making you late for Charms and costing Gryffindor five points. Which was exactly what Riki had intended, no doubt. Your houses were neck-and-neck for the cup, and every point mattered in these final weeks.

Retaliation was necessary. And for once, you decided to beat him at his own game.

It took careful planning, timed precisely to the Slytherin Quidditch practice. A specialized color-changing potion in his shampoo (courtesy of a reluctant Slughorn, who thought you were doing "extra credit research"). By dinner, every Slytherin at the table was staring at Riki's violently pink hair and robes.

The best part? The potion was keyed to only activate for clothing in Slytherin colors and hair of his exact shade. No innocent bystanders.

His expression when he realized what had happened was worth the three nights of sleep you'd sacrificed to perfect the potion.

"Well played," he conceded when he cornered you after dinner, his robes still resolutely pink despite numerous attempts to change them back.

You allowed yourself a satisfied smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"This means war, you know." But he didn't sound angry – if anything, he seemed impressed.

"We've been at war since you turned my cauldron into a toad in first year," you reminded him.

"Good times," he sighed nostalgically. "Though I think you're forgetting that I never leave a prank unanswered."

You shrugged. "Do your worst, Nishimura. I'll be ready."

-

You were not, in fact, ready.

Three days later, whispers followed you through the corridors. Students giggled behind their hands as you passed. Even the professors were giving you strange looks.

It wasn't until Luna Lovegood approached you at lunch with her dreamy expression that you discovered why.

"I think it's very brave of you to be so public with your feelings," she said, patting your hand. "Though the singing Valentine might have been a bit much."

"What singing Valentine?" you asked, a sense of dread building.

She blinked owlishly. "The one you sent to Riki Nishimura this morning. With the cherubs and rose petals? It performed in the middle of the entrance hall."

Your blood ran cold. "I didn't send—"

But Luna had already drifted away, leaving you to face the horrified realization that Riki had successfully framed you for sending him the most over-the-top, public declaration of love in Hogwarts history.

The smug look on his face when you found him confirmed everything.

"That was LOW," you growled, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Even for you."

He captured your finger, gently pushing it away. "Just giving the people what they want. Half the school already thinks we're secretly in love, given how obsessed we are with each other."

"We are NOT—" you spluttered, then lowered your voice when you realized people were watching. "We are not obsessed with each other."

"Seven years of elaborate pranks suggests otherwise," he pointed out.

"Seven years of you being an absolute menace," you corrected.

He leaned against the wall, studying you with unexpected seriousness. "You know, anyone else would have reported me to McGonagall years ago. Yet you always retaliate instead. Why is that?"

The question caught you off guard. Why hadn't you ever reported him? It would have been the sensible thing to do.

"Because," you said finally, "that would be admitting you've won."

His slow smile was different from his usual smirk – smaller, more genuine. "And we can't have that, can we?"

"Never," you agreed, finding yourself smiling back despite everything.

The moment stretched, something unspoken passing between you before you broke the spell. "This isn't over, Nishimura. I'm going to make you regret that Valentine stunt."

"Looking forward to it," he called as you walked away.

-

Your opportunity came sooner than expected. You discovered quite by accident that Riki had been working on a modified time-distortion spell – not an actual Time-Turner, but a charm that created the illusion of time passing. His plan, according to the notes you'd "borrowed" from his bag during Potions, was to make you think you'd slept through your Arithmancy N.E.W.T.

Clever, but not clever enough.

You spent a week developing a counter-charm, designed to reflect the spell back on its caster. It was advanced magic, beyond N.E.W.T. level really, but the thought of beating Riki at his own game was too tempting to resist.

The night before the Arithmancy exam, you stayed up late in the library, knowing he'd make his move when you were exhausted and vulnerable. Sure enough, just after midnight, you detected the subtle shimmer of disillusionment as he crept toward your table.

You pretended to be dozing on your textbook, wand concealed but ready beneath the pages.

You felt rather than saw the moment he cast the spell – a strange ripple in the air, the whispered Latin incantation. In one fluid motion, you raised your wand and cast your counter-charm.

"Tempus Reflectum!"

Your spells collided in midair with a sound like shattering glass. Golden light erupted between you, blinding in its intensity. You felt a strange pulling sensation behind your navel, similar to a Portkey but stronger, as if something was yanking you through dimensions rather than mere space.

The last thing you saw was Riki's shocked face, his hand reaching toward you as the magic engulfed you both.

Then darkness.

You woke to sunlight on your face and the unfamiliar sensation of high-thread-count sheets against your skin. Your head pounded viciously, like the aftermath of a poorly brewed Wit-Sharpening Potion. Groggily, you rolled over, burying your face in a pillow that smelled of lavender and something else – a woody, spicy scent that was strangely familiar.

"Five more minutes," you mumbled, pulling blankets over your head.

Wait. These weren't your Gryffindor dormitory blankets.

Your eyes snapped open, heart racing. This wasn't your bed in Gryffindor Tower. The room was unfamiliar - spacious with burgundy accents and photographs you didn't recognize.

Worse, you weren't alone.

A warm weight pressed against your side. You turned your head slowly and froze. Nishimura Riki - your sworn enemy - was asleep next to you, his dark hair tousled, face relaxed in sleep, looking several years older than he should.

"What the—" you started, voice dying as your brain struggled to process the impossible sight before you. This wasn't right. This couldn't be happening.

Riki stirred beside you, mumbling something incoherent. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first. Then he blinked rapidly, confusion washing over his features as he registered the unfamiliar surroundings. When his gaze finally landed on you, he froze.

"Wait..." he said groggily, rubbing his eyes like he might be dreaming. "What's going on?"

You scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed in your haste. "Why are you— Where are we—" The questions tumbled over each other, none completing themselves.

Riki seemed equally disoriented, looking down at his own body, touching his face. "I feel... different. Older?" His voice was deeper, his shoulders broader. This wasn't the lanky seventeen-year-old who'd been tormenting you yesterday.

"This isn't Hogwarts," you whispered, taking in the room. "This isn't my dormitory. Why are we in a bed? Together?" Your voice rose with each question.

Realization dawned on his face, horror quickly replacing confusion. "No. No way. Tell me this isn't..."

The fog of sleep dissipated completely, replaced by rising panic. "You!" he finally accused, pointing a shaking finger. "What did you do? Where did you bring us?"

"ME?" Indignation cut through your shock. "You think I did this?" You grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head with all your strength. "This is clearly one of your stupid pranks gone wrong!"

"My pranks are never stupid," he shot back automatically, then looked wildly around the room at the photographs, at the clothing visible in the open wardrobe, at the obvious signs of a shared life. "And I definitely wouldn't prank myself into... whatever this nightmare is."

You noticed a wand on the nightstand - your wand, but somehow more worn - and lunged for it. As you did, something gold caught the light. A wedding ring on your finger.

"No," you whispered, staring at your hand. "No, no, no."

Riki noticed his own matching band and went pale. "This isn't possible."

You rushed to the mirror and gasped. Your reflection was you, but older - mid-twenties at least, with different hair and a confidence in your eyes your seventeen-year-old self had never possessed.

"If this is your idea of funny, Nishimura—" you began, whirling back toward him.

"For the last time, this isn't me!" he snapped, running a hand through his hair. "I was trying to prank you with a time-distortion spell, not..." he gestured between you wildly, "whatever nightmare this is!"

"Time-distortion?" Your eyes narrowed. "That spell you were working on in the library! The one I countered with—"

"You countered it?" Riki jumped to his feet. "What did you use? What exactly did you cast?"

"A reflection charm. It was supposed to bounce your stupid prank back at you!"

"You interfered with experimental magic?" He looked genuinely appalled. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you! The walking disaster who once turned the entire Great Hall ceiling into a swamp!"

"That was brilliant spellwork and you know it!"

Your shouting match escalated until you barely noticed the small figure appearing in the doorway. It wasn't until you heard a heartbroken sob that you both fell silent and turned.

A little girl stood there, maybe three years old, with tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. She had Riki's deep, dark eyes—so dark they were almost black—but your nose and mouth. Her black hair fell in messy waves to her shoulders, with a stubborn cowlick at the crown that somehow looked familiar. She wore mismatched pajamas—a Holyhead Harpies top and bottoms covered in tiny golden snitches. She was clutching a well-loved stuffed dragon, its once-vibrant green scales faded from countless hugs.

"Mama, Dada, no fight," she hiccupped, her lower lip trembling so dramatically that your heart clenched in response. "No fight, please."

The raw distress in her voice hit you like a physical blow. This child—your child, somehow—was devastated by your argument. And though your rational mind insisted she was a stranger, something deeper, more instinctive, recognized her as yours.

You caught Riki's expression changing from confusion to concern, his usual smirk melting away completely. His entire body language transformed in an instant—shoulders relaxing, voice softening to a tone you'd never heard him use before.

"Hey, it's okay," he said gently, approaching her with cautious steps and kneeling down to her level. "We're not fighting. We're just... talking loud."

His hand reached out to smooth her hair in a gesture that seemed so natural it startled you. The tenderness in his touch was nothing like the Riki you knew—the prankster, the rival, the perpetual thorn in your side.

"Loud scary," she whimpered, clutching her dragon tighter. Its head was tucked under her chin in a practiced motion of self-comfort. "Suki no like." Her voice broke on the last word, fresh tears spilling down her already damp cheeks.

Something powerful and overwhelming surged through you—a fierce, protective instinct you'd never felt before. Without thinking, you moved toward her, your body acting before your mind could catch up. It felt like gravity—like you physically couldn't stay across the room while she was crying.

You knelt beside Riki, your shoulders almost touching as you both hunched down to her height. "We're sorry we scared you, Suki," you said, your voice coming out gentle and soothing, as if you'd comforted this child a thousand times before.

She looked up at you with those big, tear-filled eyes—Riki's eyes, unmistakably—and something twisted in your chest. Recognition flashed between you, soul-deep, impossible to explain. You'd never met this child before today, but your heart knew her.

Your hand reached out of its own volition to wipe a tear from her soft cheek. The moment your skin touched hers, a rush of emotion flooded through you—love, protectiveness, and a bone-deep certainty that whatever else was happening, this connection was real.

"Dragon scared too," she said solemnly, holding up the stuffed toy. Now that you looked more closely, you noticed the dragon had a tiny Gryffindor scarf around its neck, clearly handknitted. "Puff needs hugs when scared."

"Puff?" you asked softly.

"Short for Puffskein," Riki explained automatically, then looked surprised at his own knowledge. "I think... I gave it to her on her second birthday."

Suki nodded vigorously. "Daddy said... said Puff keeps bad dreams away."

Your eyes met Riki's over her head, a moment of mutual bewilderment passing between you. How could he know that? How could either of you feel such instant recognition of a child you'd just met?

"Well," you said, finding your voice again. "Puff is right. Hugs do help when you're scared."

Suki looked at you hopefully, arms lifting in an unmistakable request. The gesture was so innocent, so trusting, that you couldn't refuse. You gathered her small body against yours, surprised by how naturally she fit in your arms, how right her weight felt. She smelled of baby shampoo and that indefinable sweet scent that seemed to belong only to children.

When she reached one arm out to include Riki in the hug, you watched his face cycle through confusion, hesitation, and then surrender. He moved closer, completing the circle, his arm brushing yours as he embraced both you and Suki.

For one strange, suspended moment, the three of you stayed like that—a tableau of family comfort that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. You caught Riki's eyes over Suki's head, and the confusion in them mirrored your own, but there was something else there too—a vulnerability you'd never seen before.

Suki's small hand patted your cheek. "Better now?" she asked, her tears already drying as children's often do, her resilience astonishing. She looked between you with such hope, such complete faith that her parents could fix anything, that you felt a lump form in your throat.

"Yes," you managed, though nothing was better, nothing made sense. "Much better."

Riki nodded, his voice slightly hoarse when he added, "All better, Suki."

She beamed then, her whole face lighting up with such joy that it physically hurt to look at. Her smile—your smile, undeniably—transformed her tear-stained face. "Suki fixed it," she declared proudly, patting her own chest. "Suki good helper."

"The best helper," Riki agreed, with a sincerity that sounded strange coming from him.

She wiggled out of the embrace, suddenly energized now that the crisis had passed. "Hungry now," she announced, as if the emotional storm had never happened. "Pancakes? With chocolate?"

"And berries," you found yourself adding, the words coming from nowhere. "You need something healthy with all that chocolate."

"Always saying that," Suki said with a dramatic sigh that was so reminiscent of Riki's that you almost laughed despite everything. "Boring."

Riki smothered what might have been a chuckle. "Some things never change," he murmured, so quietly only you could hear.

Suki grabbed both your hands in her small ones, tugging with surprising strength. "Come on! Sara waiting!"

As she mentioned the other child, another voice called out from somewhere down the hall—a younger, less articulate voice that nevertheless commanded attention.

"MAMA! DADA! UP!"

Riki's eyes met yours again, a silent question passing between you. Neither of you had to say it aloud: how could something feel so wrong and so right at the same time? How could these children be strangers and yet feel like they were pieces of your own heart?

Suki tugged more insistently. "Sara awake. She hungry too."

You allowed yourself to be pulled to your feet, noticing as you rose that Riki's hand lingered near your elbow, steadying you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He snatched it back when he realized what he was doing, but not before you felt the warmth of his touch—so different from the antagonistic shoves and playful jabs you were used to exchanging.

"We should..." he began awkwardly.

"Yeah," you agreed, equally uncomfortable. "The other one—Sara—she sounds..."

"Impatient," Riki finished, a hint of his usual wry humor returning. "Wonder where she gets that from."

"Certainly not from me," you retorted automatically, falling into your familiar pattern of banter before you could stop yourself.

Suki looked up at you both, her dark eyes narrowing with that uncanny perceptiveness again. "No more fighting," she warned, squeezing your hands. "Promise?"

The way she said it—like she was the parent and you were the children—made something catch in your throat. This tiny person somehow had the power to make you feel both chastised and protected.

"Promise," you said softly, and meant it.

"For now," Riki added with a ghost of his usual mischief, but when Suki's eyes narrowed further, he quickly amended, "I mean, yes, I promise too."

Suki nodded, satisfied with your compliance. "Good," she declared. "Now pancakes."

She pulled you both toward the door with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where she was going and expected the rest of the world to follow. And somehow, despite everything—the confusion, the impossibility of the situation, the fact that you were in a strange house with the person you'd spent seven years despising—you found yourself following her lead.

As you passed through the doorway, your arm brushed against Riki's, and instead of flinching away as you normally would, you felt an odd sense of reassurance from the contact. You were both lost here, both confused, but at least you were lost together.

"Temporary truce?" you whispered to him, just low enough that Suki couldn't hear.

"Absolutely," he agreed, his voice equally soft. "But for the record, I still think this is somehow your fault."

"And I'm certain it's yours," you countered, but there was no real heat in it.

Suki glanced back, caught you whispering, and gave you both a look of such knowing approval that you wondered if she'd somehow orchestrated this whole bizarre situation. For a three-year-old, she seemed remarkably in control.

"Come on, slow pokes!" she called, tugging you forward. "Sara waiting!"

The voice from down the hall called again, more insistently this time:

"DADA! UP NOW!"

You followed in stunned silence, wondering what cosmic joke had landed you in a future where you and Nishimura Riki had not only married but created this earnest little peacemaker and her baby sister.

-

After a chaotic breakfast involving Sara wearing more pancake than she ate and Suki demonstrating her surprisingly advanced levitation skills ("No, Suki, we don't float the syrup to the ceiling"), you finally managed to settle the children with enchanted coloring books in the living room.

"We have approximately seven minutes before disaster strikes again," Riki muttered, watching Sara scribble with determined focus. "Let's use them wisely."

"We need to search the house," you whispered. "Find anything that might explain what happened or how to reverse it."

You split up, Riki taking the study while you explored the sitting room. The cottage was larger than it appeared from outside—clearly magically extended—with comfortable, lived-in furnishings that blended wizarding and Muggle styles seamlessly.

The walls were covered with photographs—magical ones that moved and Muggle ones that didn't. They told the story of a life you couldn't remember living: graduation from Hogwarts (standing suspiciously close to Riki), your wedding (looking disgustingly happy), Riki in formal Auror robes receiving some kind of commendation, you in professor's robes surrounded by students.

You paused at a series of photos displaying Suki's early days. There was one of you in a hospital bed, looking exhausted but radiant, cradling a newborn bundle while Riki sat beside you, one arm around your shoulders. The look on his face—pure wonder mixed with what could only be described as adoration—was so unlike any expression you'd ever seen him wear that you had to look away.

"Found something," Riki called softly from the study. "Photo albums. Lots of them."

You joined him, settling on the floor as he spread several leather-bound albums before you. Each was meticulously labeled in what appeared to be your handwriting: "Wedding," "Suki's First Year," "Sara's Birth," "Family Holidays."

"This is surreal," you muttered, opening the one labeled "Sara's Birth."

The images inside showed a progression: you with a rounded belly, Riki's hand resting on it with a proud smile; you in labor, gripping Riki's hand so tightly his fingers were white (that one gave you a small satisfaction); and finally, Riki holding newborn Sara, tears streaming unashamedly down his face while Suki peered curiously at her new sister.

"I look...happy," Riki said quietly, touching the edge of the photo.

"We both do," you admitted reluctantly.

You flipped through more pages, watching your impossible family life unfold. Holidays at what appeared to be his parents' home in Japan. Suki's first steps. Sara's naming ceremony.

"Look at this one," Riki said, pointing to a photo of both of you asleep on a couch, Suki as a baby nestled between you. The image captured pure exhaustion, but also undeniable contentment.

"This can't be real," you whispered, but the evidence was overwhelming. "How did we go from hexing each other to...this?"

Riki closed the album carefully. "More importantly, how do we get back to our time?"

You stood abruptly, pacing the study. "There must be something in this house—your research notes, my lesson plans, anything that might explain the magic that sent us here."

"Or how to reverse it," Riki added, rising to his feet.

"Exactly," you agreed, turning too quickly and colliding with him. His hands automatically steadied you, fingers wrapping around your upper arms.

You jerked away. "Don't touch me, Nishimura," you hissed. "Get your filthy fingers off me. God knows where they've been."

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, perhaps?—before his usual smirk reappeared. He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't know about God, but judging by these photos, I think I know where you'd like them to be."

Your face burned. "You're disgusting."

"And yet, apparently, you married me," he countered, gesturing to the ring on your finger. "Enthusiastically, from the looks of these albums."

You were about to deliver a scathing retort when a small sniffle from the doorway froze you both. Suki stood there, clutching Puff, her bottom lip wobbling dangerously.

"Mama and Dada fighting again?" she asked, voice trembling.

Pure panic flashed across Riki's face—the same feeling coursing through you. You had exactly two seconds to prevent another meltdown.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Riki's waist, plastering what you hoped was a convincing smile on your face.

"Not fighting, sweetheart," you said quickly. "Dada and I were just...playing."

Riki, to his credit, recovered quickly. His arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side.

"That's right," he agreed, smiling down at Suki. "Mama and I were just being silly."

Suki didn't look entirely convinced. "No more loud voices?"

"No more loud voices," you promised.

She studied you both with those unnervingly perceptive eyes, then nodded slowly. "Okay. Sara made mess. Big mess."

You exchanged an alarmed glance with Riki before hurrying to the living room, where you discovered Sara had somehow gotten hold of a pot of Everlasting Ink. The black liquid covered the toddler, the carpet, and most of a nearby armchair.

"How—" you began.

"I left for one minute!" Suki defended herself. "One minute!"

You bit back a laugh at her indignant tone—so reminiscent of your own when dealing with Riki's pranks—and turned to assess the damage.

"I'll take Sara for a bath," Riki offered, gingerly lifting the ink-covered toddler. "You tackle the furniture?"

You nodded, surprised by how easily you both fell into problem-solving mode. "Suki, can you show me where we keep the cleaning supplies?"

The crisis was half-managed when a bright silver light burst through the window. A tabby cat Patronus landed gracefully on the coffee table, fixing you both with a stern, familiar gaze.

"Mr. Nishimura. Miss L/N ]," came Professor McGonagall's voice from the ethereal cat. "Or should I say, Professor and Auror Nishimura? I am aware of your...temporal predicament. Report to my office at Hogwarts immediately. Without the children, if you please. Eight o'clock this evening. Do try not to destroy anything else in the meantime."

The Patronus dissolved, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

"She knows," you whispered.

"Of course she does," Riki said, Sara squirming in his arms, leaving ink stains on his shirt. "She's McGonagall."

"But how? And what did she mean 'destroy anything else'?" A thought struck you. "Merlin's beard—what if our spell did more than just send us through time? What if we changed something important?"

Riki frowned. "Or broke something magical."

"The timeline itself, perhaps," you suggested, feeling sick.

"Well," he said, shifting Sara to his other hip, "at least we don't have to figure this out alone now."

You looked around at the chaotic scene—the ink-stained room, the confused children, the evidence of a life neither of you remembered building—and felt a wave of hysterical laughter bubble up.

"What's so funny?" Riki asked, eyebrows raised.

"Just picturing McGonagall's face when we have to explain that this all started because you tried to make me miss an exam."

He opened his mouth to argue, then shook his head with a rueful smile. "We are so getting detention. For a month. Possibly the rest of our lives."

Suki tugged at your hand. "Who was the cat lady?"

You knelt down to her level. "That was Headmistress McGonagall. She's...an old friend."

"The scary one from your stories?" Suki asked, eyes wide. "The one who can turn into a cat?"

"Exactly that one," Riki confirmed.

Suki considered this information solemnly. "She mad at you?"

You exchanged a look with Riki. "Probably," you admitted.

"Definitely," he corrected.

"You need timeout?" Suki asked seriously.

This time, when your eyes met Riki's, you couldn't help it—you both burst out laughing, the tension of the morning finally breaking. Suki looked between you, confused but pleased that her parents were laughing instead of fighting.

"Yes, Suki," you managed when you could speak again. "I think Dada and I are in a very long timeout."

"The longest," Riki agreed, his smile—his real smile, not the smirk you were used to—making something flutter strangely in your chest.

You quickly looked away, focusing on the ink stain. Whatever was happening, whatever McGonagall knew, one thing was certain—you needed to fix this mess and get back where you belonged. Before you started getting used to Riki's genuine smile, or the way Suki's hand felt in yours, or the strange sense of rightness that kept creeping in despite your best efforts to ignore it.

Because this wasn't your life. It couldn't be. No matter what the photographs showed or how natural it sometimes felt.

...Could it?

Meeting with McGonagall had been exactly as intimidating as expected. Even as adults—or at least, in adult bodies—you both found yourselves fidgeting under her stern gaze like first-years caught out after curfew.

"Of all the reckless, irresponsible applications of magic," she'd said, pacing her office while portraits of former headmasters watched with varying degrees of amusement. "A temporal displacement caused by a schoolyard rivalry. Albus would have found this terribly entertaining." Her tone made it clear she did not share this sentiment.

McGonagall had explained, with remarkable patience, that your spell collision had created a rare but not unprecedented magical phenomenon. You had essentially switched places with your future selves—who were now presumably navigating your teenage lives at Hogwarts.

"So does that mean we can go back?" you'd asked hopefully.

Her answer had crushed that hope. "The magic will resolve itself naturally in approximately four weeks. Any attempt to force a reversal could cause irreparable damage to both timelines."

"Four WEEKS?" Riki had choked out.

"Consider it an educational opportunity, Mr. Nishimura," McGonagall had replied, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. "A chance to see where your choices lead. Perhaps it will inspire better decision-making in your youth."

And with that decidedly unhelpful advice, she'd sent you both back to your cottage and your borrowed life, with instructions to maintain your professional obligations and "try not to destroy the timeline."

Which was how you found yourself standing in front of a classroom of third-year students the next morning, trying to remember anything useful about shield charms beyond the basics you'd learned in fifth year.

"Professor?" A Ravenclaw girl in the front row raised her hand. "You said last week we'd be practicing against minor hexes today."

"Right," you said, stalling. "But first, let's review. Can anyone tell me the three key principles of effective shielding?"

Thank Merlin for eager students. As they rattled off answers, you discreetly consulted the lesson plans you'd found in your desk drawer. Apparently, your future self was exceptionally organized—each lesson meticulously planned with notes on individual students' progress.

Meanwhile, Riki had reluctantly departed for the Ministry, armed with a crash course in current Auror protocols courtesy of a surprisingly helpful portrait of a former Head of Magical Law Enforcement hanging in McGonagall's office.

"Just act important and delegate everything," the portrait had advised with a wink. "Standard procedure for department heads after a vacation."

Department head. Apparently, Riki had risen quickly through Auror ranks to lead a specialized unit focused on magical smuggling and illegal enchantments. Your respect for your future husband's abilities had increased considerably—not that you'd admit it aloud.

The day passed in a blur of classes, staff meetings, and trying not to reveal your temporal displacement to colleagues who clearly knew you well. By evening, you were mentally exhausted but strangely exhilarated. You'd always secretly considered teaching, and discovering that you'd achieved that ambition was oddly satisfying.

Riki returned home via Floo just before dinner, looking shell-shocked but intact. The children greeted him with enthusiasm, Suki launching herself at his legs while Sara babbled excitedly from her high chair.

"How was it?" you asked once the initial chaos subsided.

"Terrifying," he admitted quietly, accepting the cup of tea you offered. "I'm apparently in charge of seventeen Aurors and coordinating with magical law enforcement across Europe. Me. The guy who once transfigured all the Slytherin common room furniture into rubber ducks."

"Well, you always were good at transfiguration," you pointed out, surprising yourself with the compliment.

He looked equally surprised. "Did you just acknowledge one of my skills without adding an insult?"

"Don't get used to it." But you found yourself smiling anyway.

Suki, ever watchful, observed this exchange with obvious approval. "Dada catch bad wizards today?" she asked, climbing onto his lap.

"Sort of," Riki answered, automatically adjusting to accommodate her. "Dada mostly signed papers and pretended to know what he was doing."

"That's what you always say," Suki giggled, clearly accustomed to this joke.

You watched them together, struck again by how naturally Riki had adapted to fatherhood. The boy who'd once charmed your quills to write nothing but love poems about himself was now patiently listening to a toddler's detailed description of her day at magical daycare.

"Miss Penny let me feed the pygmy puffs," Suki was explaining earnestly. "And I didn't even squeeze them too hard this time."

"That's my girl," Riki said, genuine pride in his voice. "Always improving."

Later, after you'd managed bathtime (Sara could apparently generate tsunamis with minimal water) and bedtime stories (Suki insisted on three, with different voices for each character), you and Riki faced the awkward reality of sleeping arrangements.

"I'll take the sofa," he offered, hovering in the bedroom doorway.

"Don't be ridiculous," you said practically. "That sofa is barely long enough for Suki. We're adults. We can share a bed without it being... weird."

Both of you knew this was a lie, but neither acknowledged it.

You established firm boundaries—a pillow wall down the center of the mattress and strict adherence to respective sides. You changed in the bathroom, emerging in pajamas you'd found in a drawer (thankfully modest), while Riki wore sweatpants and a t-shirt that he'd clearly transfigured to be baggier than its original fit.

"Goodnight," you said stiffly, turning your back to the pillow barrier.

"Goodnight," he replied from his side. "Try not to snore."

"I do not snore!"

"How would you know? You're asleep when it happens."

Just like that, you were arguing again—the familiar pattern a strange comfort in this unfamiliar situation.

You must have eventually fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, you were waking to a small voice and the mattress dipping slightly.

"Mama? Dada? Bad dream."

Suki stood beside the bed in her Holyhead Harpies pajamas, Puff clutched tightly to her chest, eyes wide and frightened in the dim wandlight that automatically illuminated at her distress.

Riki sat up immediately, all traces of sleep vanishing. "What kind of bad dream, Suki-bean?"

The casual endearment slipped out so naturally that neither of you remarked on it.

"Monsters," she whispered dramatically. "In the closet. And under bed. And in curtains."

"That's a lot of monsters," you said, sitting up as well.

"So many," she agreed solemnly. "Need both Mama and Dada."

She was already climbing onto the bed, worming her way directly into the center—right over your carefully constructed pillow barrier. She settled between you, looking from one to the other expectantly.

"Both stay," she insisted. "Both keep monsters away."

Riki met your eyes over her head, silently communicating in that strange way you'd developed over the past few days. You nodded slightly.

"We'll both stay," he promised. "No monsters allowed."

"That's right," you agreed. "Mama and Dada are scarier than any monsters."

Suki considered this, then nodded decisively. "Mama has scary voice when Sara draws on walls."

Riki bit back a laugh. "She certainly does."

You elbowed him lightly, but couldn't help smiling. Suki snuggled down between you, one small hand gripping your pajama top, the other clutching Riki's shirt.

"Night-night," she murmured, already drifting back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that her parents would keep her safe.

You lay awake long after her breathing deepened, acutely aware of Riki doing the same on the other side of your daughter. Your daughter. The thought still sent a jolt through you.

"This is strange, isn't it?" he whispered finally. "How quickly this starts feeling..."

"Normal," you finished when he trailed off. "I know."

"I'm not as terrible at this as I would have expected," he admitted.

"And I'm not hexing you every five minutes, which shows remarkable restraint on my part."

His low chuckle vibrated through the mattress. "Perhaps we've matured. A little."

"Apparently enough to create this," you said softly, gently brushing a strand of hair from Suki's forehead.

"She's pretty amazing, isn't she?" The naked pride in his voice made your throat tighten.

"Both of them are."

Silence fell again, but it was different now—contemplative rather than awkward. Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, the last sensation being Suki's warm weight against your side and, just beyond her, the steady rhythm of Riki's breathing.

-

The next few days established a strange new routine. You taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by day, gradually growing more comfortable as muscle memory and your future self's excellent notes guided you. Your colleagues clearly respected you—Professor Flitwick even mentioned your recent paper on practical defensive applications of Charms work published in Transfiguration Today.

Riki adapted to Auror work with surprising skill, his natural talent for thinking outside conventional boundaries apparently serving him well in investigating magical smuggling operations. He returned home each evening with increasingly fewer looks of panic and more stories of actual accomplishment.

The children attended Little Sorcerers, a magical daycare in Hogsmeade run by a cheerful witch named Penny Clearwater who had apparently been a few years ahead of you at Hogwarts. Suki was in the "Developing Wands" group for magical children showing early signs of ability, while Sara stayed in the "Baby Beasts" room.

Domestic life fell into place with unexpected ease. You discovered household charms you'd never known, apparently perfected by your future self. Riki, much to your surprise, was an excellent cook—another skill his future self had developed.

"My mother always said cooking is just like potions, but with less chance of explosion," he explained one evening as he expertly charmed knives to chop vegetables. "Usually less chance, anyway."

One week into your strange displacement, you were sitting at the kitchen table grading essays while Riki played with the girls in the living room. His patient voice floated through the doorway as he explained, for what must have been the thousandth time, why Sara couldn't ride the toy broomstick Suki had received for her birthday.

"Because she's too little, Suki. Remember when you were her age and tried to ride Uncle Jake's broom? What happened?"

"I falled in rosebushes," Suki recited reluctantly. "And needed ouchie potion."

"Exactly. So Sara needs to wait until she's bigger, just like you did."

You found yourself smiling at the exchange. The Riki you knew from Hogwarts had never shown this kind of patience. But then, you'd never really looked for it either, had you? You'd been so busy competing, bickering, retaliating for pranks, that you'd never considered there might be more to him.

Later that night, after the children were asleep, you found yourself lingering in the study, examining framed certificates and photographs. Your teaching credentials from a specialized Defense mastery program. Riki's Auror certification, with honors. A joint commendation from the Ministry for some collaborative project.

Riki found you there, two mugs of tea in hand. He offered one silently, and you accepted with a nod of thanks.

"Strange to see what we become," he said finally, examining a photo of you both at what appeared to be a Ministry function.

"Not what I expected," you admitted.

"No?"

You gestured around the study. "Look at all this. Professional success. Academic recognition. A home, a family..." You trailed off, not quite able to complete the thought.

Riki did it for you. "Everything we secretly wanted but were too proud to admit?"

You looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, suddenly looking vulnerable in a way the seventeen-year-old Riki never would have allowed. "I never hated you, you know. I was just..."

"Competitive?" you supplied.

"Immature," he corrected with a rueful smile. "And maybe a little intimidated. You always knew exactly what you wanted and how to get it. I just knew what I didn't want—to follow my father into the diplomatic service, to be serious all the time."

"So you became the class clown instead?"

"I became whatever would get a reaction." His honesty surprised you. "Especially from you."

You weren't ready for this conversation—this glimpse beneath the surface of your carefully maintained animosity. So you deflected.

"Well, apparently it worked out for both of us." You gestured to the evidence of your successful careers. "Though I still can't believe I married someone who once enchanted my hair to glow in the dark during exams."

"In my defense, you looked incredible. Like a vengeful goddess."

Despite yourself, you laughed. "I was so furious. I couldn't figure out how to counter it for three days."

"I know." His smile turned reminiscent. "McGonagall finally took pity on you. But not before I got to admire my handiwork for half a week."

The ease between you was new and unsettling. It felt like a betrayal of your properly antagonistic relationship, yet it also felt... right. As if your bodies remembered a friendship—and more—that your minds hadn't yet experienced.

"We should sleep," you said abruptly, uncomfortable with the direction of your thoughts. "Early classes tomorrow."

Riki nodded, the moment broken. "Right. Of course."

You both headed to the bedroom, maintaining the pretense of the pillow barrier even though Suki had demolished it the past three nights in a row, inevitably climbing into your bed with complaints of monsters, bad dreams, or simply "missing Mama and Dada."

But as you lay in the darkness, listening to Riki's breathing slow on the other side of the useless barrier, you couldn't help wondering: If this was your future—a respected career, beautiful children, and an unexpectedly supportive partner—was it really something you wanted to undo?

The thought followed you into dreams where seventeen-year-old Riki laughed as he turned your hair pink, but adult Riki smiled as he helped you wash it out, his fingers gentle against your scalp and his eyes holding something you weren't ready to name.

-

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains as you carefully extracted yourself from the bed, trying not to disturb Riki. Over the past ten days, you'd fallen into an uneasy routine—you rose early to prepare for your classes while he handled the nighttime wake-ups with Sara, who still wasn't sleeping through the night.

Today you had a particularly early staff meeting to review the upcoming O.W.L. practical examinations. You gathered your teaching robes and had just started toward the bathroom when a loud chiming sound filled the room.

A glowing orb materialized above the dresser—something like a remembrall but larger and pulsing with magical energy. You approached it cautiously, poking it with your wand.

The orb expanded, revealing the face of a woman you didn't recognize—though she clearly knew you, judging by her broad smile.

"Fucking finally! I've been trying to reach you since yesterday!" the woman exclaimed. Her curly hair was piled haphazardly atop her head, and she appeared to be wearing pajamas. "Did you get my message about Friday? Because Marcus is taking the kids to his mother's, and I'm desperate for a girls' night."

You froze, desperately trying to place her. This must be a friend of your future self—possibly your best friend, given her casual manner.

"I, um—" you stammered.

"Oh shit, did I wake you? What time is it there?" She squinted, then gasped dramatically. "Is that Riki in bed behind you? Sorry! Although..." her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "since I've got you both, I might as well ask. That thing you mentioned last month? The tongue thing?"

Your face burned as you realized what kind of "thing" she was referring to.

"I tried it with Marcus but I must be doing something wrong because he just looked confused, and honestly, after three kids you'd think I'd have figured out how to keep things interesting," she continued, seemingly oblivious to your discomfort. "But you always seem to have Riki thoroughly fucked—he practically glows every time I see him—so clearly you're doing something right."

You heard a muffled sound from the bed and glanced back to see Riki stirring, his eyes opening with confusion that quickly transformed to interest as he caught snippets of the conversation.

"I mean," your friend continued, lowering her voice even more, "last time we talked, you said it was all about the pattern you use with your tongue and how you have to maintain eye contact the whole time? And something about using a specific angle? I tried but Marcus kept laughing and saying it tickled."

Riki's eyebrows shot up, and he propped himself on his elbows, now fully awake and listening intently.

"And then you mentioned that thing with the ice cube beforehand? Did you mean like directly on his—"

"I REALLY need to go," you interrupted desperately, but your friend was on a roll.

"—because that seemed extreme, but then again, your sex life is legendary. Remember at New Year's when you two disappeared for an hour and came back looking like you'd been mauled by something? And Riki couldn't stop smirking for the rest of the night? Merlin's balls, whatever you did to him must have been spectacular."

At this point, Riki had both hands clamped over his mouth, his entire body shaking with barely contained laughter.

"Anyway," your friend continued, blissfully unaware of the chaos she was causing, "I just need a refresher. When you grip his thighs, is it more about the pressure or the—"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" you finally shouted, frantically tapping the orb, trying to end the call. "I'M ABOUT TO BE LATE FOR A MEETING!"

"Oh! Sorry!" she said, finally noticing your distress. "But just quickly—that position you mentioned, the one where you—"

"SILENCIO!" you bellowed, finally succeeding in muting her. But the call continued, her lips moving silently as she enthusiastically mimed what appeared to be a particularly athletic maneuver.

Behind you, Riki had lost his battle with composure. He was now howling with laughter, rolling on the bed and clutching his stomach.

"Holy shit," he gasped between fits of hysterical laughter. "Eye contact the whole time? Ice cubes? What the fuck do our future selves get up to?"

You finally located the deactivation rune and jabbed it violently. The orb vanished with a small pop, leaving mortified silence in its wake.

Well, silence except for Riki's continued uncontrollable laughter.

"I will hex you into next week," you threatened, your face burning hot enough to fry an egg.

"The fucking tongue thing!" he wheezed, tears streaming down his face. "And apparently I get 'thoroughly mauled' at New Year's? No wonder future-me always looks so damn pleased with himself!"

"Would you SHUT UP?" you hissed, grabbing a pillow and launching it at his head.

He caught it mid-air, his Quidditch reflexes intact even as he gasped for breath between laughs. "I can't—I can't breathe—"

"Good! Die, then!"

"Aww, don't be embarrassed," he teased, finally regaining some control. "Obviously our future selves enjoy fucking each other. We have two tiny munchkins as proof of that." He gestured toward the nursery with a grin. "Concrete evidence of at least two very successful encounters."

"This isn't funny, you absolute ass!" But your embarrassment was being overtaken by reluctant amusement at the absurdity of the situation.

"It's extremely funny," he countered, sitting up and wiping tears from his eyes. "Your face when she started mimicking that position—"

You launched yourself across the bed, determined to silence him before he could continue. Your hand clamped over his mouth as you landed half on top of him, using your body weight to pin him down.

"Not. Another. Goddamn. Word." You glared down at him, trying to look intimidating despite your undoubtedly bright red face.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, amusement evident even with his mouth covered. But then something shifted in his gaze—the laughter fading into something warmer, more intense. You suddenly became acutely aware of your position: straddling his lap, one hand over his mouth, your faces inches apart.

His breath was warm against your palm. You should move. You should definitely move. But your body seemed frozen, caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from his mouth. The casual strength in his grip sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

"Is this how you keep me thoroughly fucked and satisfied?" he murmured, voice pitched low in a way you'd never heard from seventeen-year-old Riki. "Pinning me down until I submit?"

Your breath caught. The air between you felt charged, crackling with a tension that had nothing to do with your usual animosity.

"I—" Whatever you might have said was lost as a piercing wail erupted from the nursery monitor on the nightstand.

"DAAAAADAAAA!" Sara's voice shattered the moment. "UP! UP NOW!"

Riki closed his eyes briefly, a mixture of frustration and resignation crossing his features. "Fuck. Perfect timing, as always," he muttered.

You scrambled off him, nearly falling in your haste to put distance between your bodies. "I should—shower. Meeting. Early."

Eloquence had apparently abandoned you entirely.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I'll check on Sara."

"Right. Good. Yes." You edged toward the bathroom, clutching your teaching robes like a shield.

At the door, he paused, throwing you a look over his shoulder. "You know we're going to have to continue this conversation eventually."

"What conversation?" you asked, aiming for innocent and missing by several miles.

His smile was slow and knowing. "The one about all the ways our future selves apparently enjoy fucking each other. And maybe that tongue thing. Seems like valuable information we shouldn't waste."

With that parting shot, he left to tend to Sara, leaving you leaning weakly against the bathroom door, your heart racing and your mind filled with images you had no business imagining.

-

You'd just finished putting Sara down for her nap when the distinct crack of apparition sounded from the front garden. Wand instantly in hand—a reflex from your Defense teaching—you moved cautiously toward the window.

A petite Japanese woman in elegant midnight-blue robes stood at your gate, a large ornate box floating beside her. Her hair was pulled into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck, and though she must have been in her fifties, she had the posture of someone half her age.

"Riki!" you called, recognizing her from the family photos. "Your mother's here!"

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a string of muffled curses.

"My WHAT?" he hissed, appearing in the doorway with a look of undisguised panic. "Why? Did you know she was coming?"

"How would I know that?" you whispered back frantically.

"You're the one who's apparently been married to me for years! Don't you have a schedule or something?"

Before you could argue further, an imperious knock sounded at the door. You both froze like guilty first-years caught out after curfew.

Suki, oblivious to your distress, came barreling down the hall. "GRANDMA!" she squealed, reaching for the doorknob before either of you could stop her.

The door swung open to reveal Riki's mother, her stern expression instantly transforming into a warm smile at the sight of her granddaughter.

"Suki!" she exclaimed, setting down her floating package to sweep the child into her arms. "Have you been practicing your Japanese?"

"Hai, Grandma!" Suki replied proudly.

"Good girl." She kissed Suki's forehead before setting her down, then turned her attention to you and Riki, who was hovering awkwardly behind you.

"Darling," she greeted you with unexpected warmth, moving forward to embrace you. "You look tired. Is my son helping enough with the children?" She didn't wait for an answer before turning to Riki. "Riki! Your hair is a mess. Are you still sleeping until noon? You have responsibilities now!"

Without warning, she reached up and slapped the back of his head—a feat requiring her to almost stand on tiptoe, given the height difference.

"Mom!" Riki protested, rubbing his head. "It's good to see you too."

"Is it? When was the last time you visited?" She grabbed his ear and tugged, pulling his head down to her level. "Do I need to remind you of the importance of family?"

You bit your lip, trying desperately not to laugh at the sight of fully-grown Auror Riki being treated like a naughty schoolboy. The look of helpless resignation on his face suggested this was a regular occurrence.

"We've been busy with work, Mom," you intervened, taking pity on him. "Please, come in. Would you like some tea?"

She released Riki's ear and beamed at you. "Always so polite. This one knows how to show respect, Riki. You should learn from your wife."

"Yes, Mom," Riki muttered, rubbing his ear.

"Grandma bring presents?" Suki asked hopefully, eyeing the box that had resumed floating beside her grandmother.

"Just one special delivery today," Hana replied, guiding the box into the living room with a flick of her wand. "For your parents."

You led everyone into the kitchen, where you busied yourself preparing tea. Riki, clearly trying to behave, pulled out a chair for his mother.

"Such good manners," Hana observed with mock surprise. "Did your wife teach you that, too?"

"Mom..." Riki began with a long-suffering sigh.

"I'm teasing, Riki," she said, but slapped his arm anyway. "Mostly."

You placed a teacup in front of her, grateful that your future self apparently knew how she took her tea.

"Now," Hana said after taking a delicate sip, "about the item you asked me to find."

You exchanged a quick glance with Riki, neither of you having any idea what she was referring to.

"I've brought it, just as promised," she continued. "Though why you couldn't have asked for it during your visit last month instead of by owl, I don't understand."

"Work has been... unpredictable," you improvised, hoping it was a plausible excuse.

Hana made a dismissive gesture. "Always work with you two. But I suppose that's why you're both so successful." There was genuine pride in her voice, despite her criticisms.

"Suki," she said, turning to her granddaughter who was attempting to climb onto Riki's lap, "would you show me your new drawings? The ones you told Grandma about in your message?"

Suki nodded eagerly. "In my room! I drawed a dragon eating ice cream!"

"Drew, Baby," Riki corrected automatically.

"That's what I said, Daddy," Suki replied with the confidence of a child who could never be wrong. She took her grandmother's hand and began tugging her toward the stairs.

"I'll just be a few minutes," Hana said, allowing herself to be led away. "Riki, make yourself useful and start dinner. Your wife works all day teaching those hopeless children to defend themselves. The least you can do is feed her properly."

"Yes, Mom," Riki replied with practiced patience.

The moment they disappeared upstairs, he turned to you. "What the hell is going on? What did you apparently ask her for?"

"How should I know?" you whispered back. "Maybe it's in that box she brought?"

You both turned to look at the ornate package still floating in the living room. It was wrapped in deep blue silk with silver constellations that actually twinkled and shifted across the fabric.

"Whatever it is, it's fancy," Riki observed. "And apparently important."

"We can't open it until we know what it is," you said reasonably. "Your mother might expect a specific reaction."

"I haven't seen her this... pleasant... in years," Riki admitted. "Usually there's at least twenty minutes of criticism before she even considers smiling."

"She seems quite fond of me," you couldn't help noting with a slight smirk.

"Of course she is," Riki grumbled. "You're exactly the type of person she wanted me to be—studious, responsible, organized. You probably color-code your lesson plans."

"I do not!" you protested, then caught yourself. "Well, future-me might, but that's beside the point."

Before you could continue, Hana reappeared, sans Suki. "She's showing Sara her drawings now," she explained. "That child could talk for England in the Olympics."

"Wonder where she gets that from," you said, giving Riki a pointed look.

Hana laughed. "Exactly what I was thinking." She moved to the box and gestured for you to join her. "Come, I'll show you what I found. Riki, start the rice. The women are talking."

Riki rolled his eyes but obediently moved to the kitchen, muttering something about "impossible women ganging up on him."

Hana drew you to the far side of the living room, lowering her voice. "I wanted to give this to you privately first," she said, untying the silk wrapping. "So you can decide how to present it to him for your anniversary."

Anniversary? Your heart rate picked up. Exactly how close was this supposedly important date?

The silk fell away, revealing a carved wooden box with the Nishimura family crest inlaid in mother-of-pearl. Hana opened it carefully to reveal a stunning platinum pocket watch nestled in velvet.

"It belonged to his grandfather," she explained, lifting it gently. "Riki adored it as a child. Used to beg to hold it, would sit for hours watching the constellation dial shift with the seasons."

She opened the watch's case, revealing an exquisitely detailed night sky in miniature, with tiny stars that glittered and moved in real-time. The craftsmanship was breathtaking.

"His grandfather promised it to him when he became a man worthy of it," Hana continued, a soft smile playing at her lips. "But he passed before Riki finished Hogwarts."

She pressed the watch into your hands. "When you wrote asking if I still had it—if I would consider letting you give it to him for your fifth anniversary—I admit I cried. You understand my son in ways I never could."

Fifth anniversary. The words echoed in your mind. You and Riki had been married for five years in this timeline.

"I..." you began, genuinely moved by both the gift and the sentiment behind it.

"No need for words," Hana said, patting your hand. "I know you'll present it perfectly. Just promise me you'll take a photograph of his face when he sees it."

"I promise," you said sincerely, carefully returning the watch to its case.

"Good. Now hide it away before he—"

"Before I what?" Riki asked, returning from the kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder.

Hana moved with surprising speed, snatching the box and thrusting it behind you. "Before you stick your nose where it doesn't belong!" she scolded, reaching up to tug his ear again. "Honestly, Riki, eavesdropping at your age!"

"I wasn't—" he protested, bending awkwardly to accommodate her grip on his ear. "Mom, please!"

"Go back to the kitchen," she commanded. "The rice will burn."

"It's in a spelled pot, it can't burn," he argued.

She released his ear only to slap the back of his head again. "Don't contradict your mother. Go. Shoo."

Riki shot you a pleading look, but you merely shrugged, hiding your amusement poorly. He slouched back to the kitchen, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "traitor."

Once he was out of earshot, Hana handed you the box again. "Hide this somewhere he won't look. Do you have such a place?"

You thought quickly. "My lesson plan cabinet. He'd rather face a Hungarian Horntail than look through teaching materials."

Hana nodded approvingly. "Smart girl. This is why I always said you were too good for him."

"I don't know about that," you said, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice.

Hana's expression softened. "Neither does he. That's what makes you perfect together." She straightened her robes briskly. "Now, I should supervise his cooking before he ruins dinner. His father was the same way—brilliant man, hopeless with domestic spells."

As she marched toward the kitchen, you heard her exclaim, "Riki! What are you doing to those poor vegetables? Here, let me show you again..."

You slipped the box into your teaching bag, mind reeling. Five years of marriage. A thoughtful anniversary gift that Riki would apparently treasure. A mother-in-law who clearly adored you and whom you called "Mom" with ease.

This life—this future—kept revealing layers that made it harder and harder to dismiss as a nightmare or a prank gone wrong. Because parts of it, if you were being honest with yourself, didn't feel wrong at all.

They felt alarmingly, confusingly right.

From the kitchen came the sound of Riki's protests, followed by his mother's firm instructions and what sounded like another light slap. Despite everything—your displacement in time, your confusion about your feelings, the lingering embarrassment from this morning's call—you found yourself smiling.

Some things, apparently, never changed. Even in a future where everything else had.

-

Two days after Hana's visit, you were grading essays in the study when the fireplace flared green. Instinctively, you reached for your wand, still not entirely comfortable with the casual magical security of your future home.A man's head appeared in the flames—mid-thirties, with an easy smile and close-cropped hair. "Riki! You home, mate?" he called.

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Thankfully, Riki appeared from the kitchen, and you were surprised to see genuine delight spreading across his face.

"Jake!" He rushed to the fireplace, the dish towel in his hands forgotten. "Merlin, it's good to see you."

The relief in his voice was palpable—this wasn't just recognition of someone from this future timeline, but someone he genuinely knew.

"Good to see me? You saw me three days ago at the office," Jake's floating head laughed. "Listen, just checking about tomorrow night. Seera's been on my case all week about what time you two are arriving."

Riki blinked, momentarily thrown. "Tomorrow night?"

Jake's expression turned exasperated. "The department dinner? Don't tell me you forgot. You RSVPed weeks ago."

"Right. The department dinner," Riki repeated, shooting you a panicked glance.

"Unbelievable," Jake said, but his tone was affectionate rather than annoyed. "I've been reminding you about deadlines since you were nine, and you still forget. Good thing I called. Seera would hex me into next week if you two didn't show—she's been looking forward to catching up with the professor here." He nodded in your direction.

You gave a small wave, noting how Riki seemed to relax into the familiar dynamic with Jake.

"It's just..." Riki began, running a hand through his hair, "with the children and everything—"

"Don't even start," Jake cut him off. "You already arranged for Molly Weasley to watch the girls. You told me yourself last week. Said it was your anniversary gift to yourselves—an evening without sticky fingers and bedtime tantrums."

Your eyes met Riki's, a silent message passing between you. He looked both relieved to be talking to someone from his past and confused by the new information.

"Right," Riki said, recovering his composure. "Sorry, just a long week. What time is it again?"

"Seven for drinks, dinner at eight," Jake replied. "At Theodesia's in Diagon Alley. The private room upstairs." He paused, then added with a knowing smirk, "Formal dress. You know how the boss loves any excuse for everyone to get fancy."

"Great," Riki said with more genuine enthusiasm now. "Looking forward to it."

"You'd better be. Seera's been practicing her speech all week." Jake winked. "She's determined to toast the department's most disgustingly perfect couple on their anniversary milestone."

"Our... right." Riki's hand went back to his hair—a nervous tell you'd noticed over the past weeks. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Excellent! See you both tomorrow, then," Jake said. His head started to withdraw, then popped back. "Oh, and Riki? Wear the blue dress robes. Your wife once told Seera they make your ass look fantastic."

With that parting shot and a laugh, he disappeared, leaving the fireplace ordinary once more.

Riki stared at the empty fireplace for a moment, a complicated mix of emotions crossing his face.

"You know him," you said, not a question but an observation. "From before all this."

"Jake Sim," Riki nodded, sinking onto the sofa beside you. "He lived down the street from us when I was a kid. Seven years older than me, but he always let me tag along when his friends played Quidditch. Taught me how to fly, actually." His voice softened with fondness. "Kind of the big brother I never had."

"That must be nice," you said carefully. "Having someone familiar in all this strangeness."

"It is," he admitted. "Weird to see him so much older, though." He glanced at you. "Apparently he works in the Auror department with me. That explains a lot—he always said he wanted to be an Auror."

"So," you said, returning to practicalities, "department dinner tomorrow."

"Apparently." Riki looked less panicked now, almost reassured by the connection to his past. "Formal. With at least one person I actually know."

"And a toast to our anniversary." You groaned. "Perfect."

"Let me check the details," Riki said, summoning his work organizer from his bag and flipping through to tomorrow's date. "Here it is. 'Annual Auror Division Recognition Dinner. Special achievement acknowledgments.' And in smaller writing: 'Jake and Seera Sim confirmed, Table 3.'"

"Recognition dinner? Is your future self getting an award or something?"

"I have no idea." Riki looked genuinely alarmed by the possibility. "I'm still trying to figure out where to find case files in my office."

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache forming. "So now we have to attend a formal dinner with people who know us—our future selves—well enough to comment on how your ass looks in dress robes, make anniversary toasts, and possibly present you with some kind of award."

"Don't forget we apparently arranged childcare with Molly Weasley," Riki added. "Whom neither of us has spoken to in this timeline."

"Shit." You dropped your head into your hands. "This is getting more complicated by the day."

Riki was quiet for a moment, then said thoughtfully, "Maybe we should look at this as an opportunity."

You raised your head. "An opportunity for what? Public humiliation?"

"Information gathering," he corrected, looking more confident than he had in days. "Jake knows me—the real me. And he obviously knows our future selves well too. He might be able to help us understand how we ended up... here." He gestured vaguely between you. "Plus, if this is some kind of work event, I might learn more about what my job actually entails."

He had a point. And if you were honest with yourself, you were a bit curious about your social circle in this future life—especially this childhood friend who had clearly remained important to Riki into adulthood.

"Fine," you conceded. "But we need a strategy. Signals if one of us is getting into conversational quicksand."

"I'll step on your foot if you start heading into dangerous territory," Riki suggested.

"And I'll spill my drink on you if you do the same."

"Seems fair," he agreed, then glanced at the clock. "Should we... call Molly? Confirm the childcare arrangement?"

"As much as I'm dreading it, probably," you admitted. "We also need to figure out what to wear to this thing."

Riki stood up. "I'll check the wardrobe for the allegedly ass-flattering blue robes. You handle Molly."

"Why do I get the hard job?" you protested.

"Because she already loves you, Professor," he said with a grin. "Everyone does, apparently."

You threw a quill at him, which he dodged easily as he headed upstairs.

After an awkward but ultimately successful Floo call to Molly Weasley—who indeed seemed already aware of your childcare needs and waved off your attempts to confirm details with a cheerful "Of course, dear, just bring them over before six like usual"—you headed upstairs to assess your own formal wear options.

The master bedroom closet revealed an impressive collection of teaching robes interspersed with more formal attire. Near the back, you found several elegant dress robes and gowns that your seventeen-year-old self would never have imagined owning.

You were examining a particularly stunning deep green gown when Riki emerged from the bathroom, holding up a set of formal midnight-blue dress robes with silver embroidery along the cuffs and collar.

"Found them," he announced. "Think these are the ones that make my ass look fantastic?"

"I wouldn't know," you said primly. "I've never made a habit of assessing that particular feature."

"Liar," he said with a smirk. "I've caught you looking."

"I have not—" you began, then stopped at his triumphant expression. "You're just trying to get a rise out of me!"

"And succeeding." He grinned, then nodded at the green gown in your hands. "That one. It's phenomenal."

You glanced down at the gown, surprised by his comment. "You think?"

"I know." His voice had lost its teasing edge. "You wore something similar to the Yule Ball in fourth year. I remembered thinking..." He trailed off, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"Thinking what?" you prompted, curious despite yourself.

"Nothing important." He focused intently on his dress robes, inspecting them for non-existent lint. "Just that you looked... nice."

The admission hung in the air between you, unexpectedly weighty. You'd gone to the Yule Ball with a Ravenclaw boy whose name you barely remembered now. You hadn't even realized Riki had noticed you that night.

"Well," you said, trying to sound casual, "I suppose this will do, then."

"We should probably practice," Riki said abruptly.

"Practice what?"

"Acting like... you know. A couple." His cheeks had colored slightly. "If these people know us well, they'll expect certain behaviors. Interactions."

"Like what?" You weren't sure if the flutter in your stomach was anxiety or something else.

"I don't know, exactly. But probably more than the awkward distance we've been maintaining." He gestured between you. "People who've been married for five years don't flinch when they accidentally brush hands passing the salt."

He had a point, loath as you were to admit it. Your attempts at playing happy couple in front of the children were unconvincing enough; fooling adults who knew you well would be even harder.

"What did you have in mind?" you asked cautiously.

"Just... getting more comfortable. Small things." He stepped closer, tentatively reaching for your hand. "May I?"

Your heart stuttered as you nodded, allowing him to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, slightly calloused—Auror training, perhaps, or years of Quidditch.

"See? Not so terrible." His voice had dropped to a lower register that sent an unexpected shiver through you.

"I suppose not," you managed.

He took another half step closer. "At an event like this, I might... put my arm around you." Slowly, telegraphing his movements, he released your hand and slid his arm around your waist.

You tensed briefly, then made yourself relax into the contact. It felt strange—Nishimura Riki touching you without it being part of some prank or competition—but not unpleasant.

"And you might lean into me a little," he suggested. "Like it's natural."

Hesitantly, you shifted your weight, allowing your body to rest slightly against his. He was solid, warm, his familiar scent—sandalwood and something uniquely him—enveloping you.

"Better," he murmured. "Almost convincing."

You looked up, intending to make some sarcastic remark, but the words died in your throat. His face was much closer than you'd realized, his dark eyes studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

"People might expect us to..." he began, then paused. "That is, married couples usually..."

"Usually what?" you whispered, though you knew perfectly well what he meant.

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes. "Dance," he finished, stepping back abruptly and breaking the moment. "We should practice dancing. For tomorrow."

"Right," you said, ignoring the confusing pang of disappointment. "Dancing. Good idea."

"I'll, um, let you finish looking through your options," he said, backing toward the door with his blue robes still clutched in one hand. "Need to check on the girls anyway."

He disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone with a racing heart and the lingering sensation of his arm around your waist.

You turned back to the closet, fingers brushing against the green fabric of the gown. A formal dinner with colleagues who knew your future selves intimately. An anniversary toast. And Riki in robes specifically noted for how well they fit him.

Tomorrow night promised to be interesting, to say the least.

part 2

TL: @ziiao @seonhoon @beariegyu @somuchdard @ddolleri @zzhengyu @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist @azzy02 @addictedtohobi @cherrybeomm @urmomdotcom5678 @jaeyunsbimbo @yongbokified @changbinniescurlyhair @en-whims

[mywhisperingwords]

a touch that never hurts | fred g. weasley

summary: you seem to have fallen for your best friend, which you could handle if only he didn’t constantly touch you word count: 3.2k masterlist

It was official: you were stupid.

Only a complete idiot would fall for their best mate and here you’ve gone and done it. Because there was no other explanation for this feeling in your stomach as you looked across the Great Hall and watched Fred Weasley tell some stupid joke to his friends and wishing nothing more than to be the one he told the joke to.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here; just earlier today, Snape had given him detention.

While working on the assigned potion, he decided to mix things up to make you laugh after your bad day.

Before class started Snape decided to ruin the day and give everyone’s essays back. You flunked. Hard. After a big explosion and an awful lecture from Snape, any of Fred’s afternoon plans were ruined. For you.

You stood there, frozen in shock, trying to figure out how to go on with your life from here.

But how could you? This realization felt like the worst thing that’s ever happened to you—right after becoming friends with Fred Weasley himself.

You must’ve stood frozen in place for too long because he caught your eye and was now waving you over with his typical charming smile while the people around him were continuing their conversation, oblivious to the turmoil inside you. You briefly considered turning around and running away, but you decided against it. That would make this situation even more awkward than it already was.

Taking a deep breath and mustering a wobbly smile, you made your way over to the Gryffindor table. You exchanged greetings with your friends and headed toward a seat, hoping to get as far away from Fred as you could. But, of course, Fred had other plans. With a grin, he shoved Lee aside and proudly declared the seat next to him as free.

Bloody hell, he was making it hard for you. It’s as if he knew and wanted to torture you now that you had finally realized your true feelings. Feelings that didn’t actually exist; denial was your new best friend.

With no other choice, other than making this one hell of an uncomfortable situation for everyone, you reluctantly sat down next to him, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible.

But to no avail. As soon as you sat down Fred swung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. “Thank Merlin you’re here. Could you be a darling and tell our idiotic friends that Snape does in fact secretly love me and that is the only reason he so often chooses to see me after class?”

‘Darling’ and ‘secretly loves me’, seemed to be the only thing your brain registered, not to mention that arm still wrapped around you. Has he always been this physically affectionate with you? It was hard to remember because Fred was looking at you expectantly as if he were waiting for something and…

Finally, your brain catches up, “Oh, that my dear Fred, is what we call detention. And wouldn't you know it, you're supposed to be there... like right now!" You playfully glanced at your imaginary wristwatch.

You could practically see the second he realized you were right. In a hurry, he jumped up from his seat and snatched the last food from his plate. But there was something important he seemed to have forgotten.

With a grin, you asked him, "Aren't you forgetting something?" Confusion washed over his face as he turned back to the table, searching for what he had missed, not finding anything. After a brief moment, he leaned down and surprised you with a kiss on your cheek. Speechless and mouth agape, you watched as the rest of the table erupted in snickers.

"You git!" you exclaimed, feeling your cheeks burn. "I meant your wand!"

Instead of being flustered like you, Fred found the whole situation hilarious. He joined in laughter with his friends and sent you a playful wink. With a glint in his eye, he swiftly retrieved his wand and innocently exclaimed, "Oops!" before making a speedy exit from the Great Hall.

Still trying to process what just happened, you turned to your friends, hoping they could provide the distraction and peace of mind you desperately needed.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, George decided to torture you. With a grin, he leaned in and asked if you've figured it out yet. Your whole body tensed up, and you found yourself desperately wishing for an escape.

In your horrified state, you managed to stammer out a weak, "W-What?" The anticipation of his response hung heavy in the air, and you braced yourself for the worst.

George burst into laughter, which echoed through the Great Hall, making everything feel ten times worse. You couldn’t help but feel exposed, as if your deepest secrets were on display for everyone to see.

Through his laughter, George managed to squeeze out, "Bloody hell. Looks like someone forgot the essay for McGonagall that's due tomorrow."

You breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that he had no idea. How could he? You yourself just figured it out. And you’d do anything to keep it that way. You won’t tell a soul about any of it and just pretend that things were normal.

✧

How naive could you be? How in your right mind could you ever think that keeping this from Fred was a possibility?

He knew you better than you knew yourself.

No matter how hard you tried to keep things like always it just wouldn’t go your way. First everything was completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary. You two would banter and share jokes. But as soon as he touched you in any way you panicked and run away from him.

You hadn’t realized how often he reached for you. It apparently had become like second nature for him.

At first you noticed the small touches, like accidentally bumping shoulders while walking together or him gently tapping your arm to get your attention.

But it was the larger gestures that pushed you to your breaking point, stirring up your traitorous heart even more. Like when he reached out and grabbed your hand in the bustling crowd of students during a visit to Hogsmead.

But the absolute worst was when he would slide in next to you, casually drape his arm around your shoulder and pull you close, all while effortlessly engaging in conversation with someone else. And what made it even more unbearable was that no one seemed to bat an eye. It was as if this physical closeness was an unspoken agreement between the two of you, that no one remembered to inform you about.

But as much as you tried to subtly keep your distance you could tell that Fred knew something was wrong. He saw it in the way you would purposefully choose to sit the furthest away from him even when the seat next to him was unoccupied.

You saw the confusion in his eyes when you started to avoid going to Hogsmead with the excuse of finishing your school work. He knew that this was never something that stopped you from spending time with him or your friends.

Since that first year you met Fred on the train, he’d been a constant presence in your life. You stumbled upon Fred and George pulling a prank on their older brother Percy. Instead of telling on them, you decided to join in on the mischief. As a result, Percy ended up with boils all over his face. From that moment on, you and Fred became inseparable. So, when you suddenly started pulling away without any explanation, it felt like the most awful thing you could do to him.

And you could tell that it was hurting Fred too. He wasn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeve; in fact, quite the opposite. But after all the years you've known him, you were priding yourself on understanding him better than most people in his life. He would never outright admit it, but your actions were causing him pain.

He would extend his hand, reach out, but as soon as he noticed that you turned away from him, he would pull back. In that fleeting moment, you could see the hurt and confusion reflected in his eyes, mirroring the hurt you were experiencing.

He even attempted to talk about it once. Normally, he would rely on laughter to uplift your spirits rather than delve into the realm of emotions. So when he approached you before your class, specifically to ask if you were okay, it created an awkward conversation for the both of you. All you could do was promise him, that if anything was wrong, you’d tell him.

What a lie.

His genuine concern shattered your heart. But it wasn't just him who could sense that something was off. You noticed how your friends would exchange worried glances every time you came up with a new excuse to avoid spending time with Fred.

Being around him became an unbearable risk, fearing that he might somehow discover your true feelings for him. It wasn’t just a simple crush; your feelings ran deeper, more intense.

Every time you witnessed his infectious laughter or his ability to light up the entire room with his jokes, a swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach, consuming you from within. The guilt of keeping such a significant secret from him and the rest of your friends gnawed at you. But the thought of confessing your feelings and potentially jeopardizing everything held you back.

It has gotten to the point where you chose to spend your free time in the library. You knew that he would never step foot inside of it. So this place became your sanctuary.

But you should’ve known better. Fred Weasley may not be an overly emotional person but he was stubborn to no end.

One night after dinner, that ended with you leaving the table as soon as possible and an excuse, truthful this time, to do your unfinished homework you returned to the only place that felt safe from Fred.

There were only a few students left in the library. You grabbed your Charms Book and settled into a quiet corner, hoping to review your homework for Professor Flitwick.

But your silence was soon disturbed by the one person you wanted to avoid. Which was not entirely true.

The situation hurt, but you couldn’t help wanting to see him — even if only from afar.

Fred appeared to be searching for you because the moment your eyes met, he marched over to where you were sitting.

"Back to doing homework, huh?" he asked, glancing at your table.

"Actually, yes," you replied honestly.

“Oi, sod off. I know you mostly just sit here doing nothing — Lee saw you, you know?” he said.

“I don’t know what Lee thinks he saw but that’s not the truth. This is a library. I study,” you argued.

“Listen, I know you’ve been avoiding me. And I have no idea what I could’ve done. You’ve been blowing me off left and right. You’re being pretty obvious and I think it’s time we had this discussion.”

You stared at him, eyes wide open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I already told you, everything is fine.”

“Come off it! We’ve been friends for years and I know when something’s off. You’ve been avoiding me and you have been for weeks. I’m done pretending like I don’t know that. And things aren’t fine since you won’t tell me what it is. What’s this really about?” his voice was low, but you could feel his anger seeping through.

But you couldn’t tell him; too much was at stake. You’d lose your best friend. Even the thought alone was too much to bear.

“Fred, please. I just… I can’t explain it to you,” you pleaded.

“Why the hell not? I’m your friend!” You appreciated his concern, but his persistence was becoming overwhelming. “If everything truly was fine you wouldn’t be hiding here all the time! What’s going on?” he demanded, clearly just wanting answers, answers you couldn’t give him.

“I really can’t tell you. Please, I’m begging you, let it go.” Keeping this from him was killing you. You felt awful holding this secret from him. Deep inside you entertained the notion that he felt the same, but doubts held you back. It was pain-filled hiding something so important from a person that meant so much to you. You wished that he felt the same way, but fear gripped you tight.

Fred's anger was palpable, evident from the fury etched on his face. Madam Pince was shooting both of you disapproving glances. You secretly hoped that she would kick you out, giving you an excuse to escape this conversation.

“No, I’m not giving up. I deserve answers and I’m not leaving until I get them, understood?” He defiantly took a seat right in front of you.

You remained silent, refusing to speak another word. The more he pushed, the harder it became to keep this from him.

“I’ve got all night. Nowhere else to be,” he stated, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you. Still refusing to speak, you turned your attention back to your essay, hoping he would eventually relent.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence. His voice now calm and his expression blank. No trace of anger or irritation. It almost seemed like he had come to accept the situation.

“Maybe this is for the best. You clearly don’t want to talk to me, so I’ll guess I won’t bother you anymore,” he said in a monotone voice, before he abruptly stood up and started to walk away, not looking back once.

Hot panic was surging through your veins and in an instant you jumped up, to go after him. Realizing that you were about to lose him either way, you took a chance.

“I like you!” The words echoed through the quiet library, their volume seemingly too loud for the stillness around you. He paused in his tracks, but didn't turn around. Unable to see his reaction, you continued, thinking maybe it was better this way, shielded from the potential disgust his face might reveal.

"I like you, and I'm really sorry, okay? I just need some time to sort things out and get over these feelings. I promise, but right now, I can't be around you. Not right now. That's why I've been avoiding you. Please, please don't hate me," with every word, your desperation spilled out, raw and unfiltered, while your eyes began to burn.

As Fred slowly turned around, his expression was unreadable, and it felt like everything was falling apart. Immediate regret was filling you up. Maybe, if you would’ve stayed silent and kept on ignoring what was going on inside of you, there would have been a chance to mend the friendship later on. But now, it felt like it might be too late.

“You like me?” he asked, his voice filled with bewilderment.

“Please, don’t make me say it again,” you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

His expression slowly transformed into a wide smile, "You're not kidding. You actually like me?"

Confused and feeling a sense of panic, you asked, "Why are you smiling at me like that?"

Fred's grin widened, making him look like a complete idiot, "I can't control it. You've just made me the happiest person in the world. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been hoping to hear those words?"

Silence filled the air. Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

“I like you too, I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he confessed with a soft grin, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"So, that's why you were always touching me?" you asked, trying to make sense of it all.

He let out a loud laugh, quickly quieted by a stern look from Madam Pince. He sent her an apologetic smile before refocusing on you and speaking in a hushed tone.

"And here I thought I was being smooth about it. I've been trying to let you know for a while now, actually."

“Bloody hell. You mean you felt the same all this time? Why on earth didn't you say anything?" You were in disbelief, feeling like you were in a dream. Maybe you had dozed off while reading about The History and Evolution of Enchantments and Charms Throughout the Ages.

"Well, why didn't you?" he asked.

"You've got me there," you said with a quiet laugh, looking down at the ground. After a moment of silence, you glanced up and saw him smiling softly at you.

"So... what's the plan now?" you asked, seeking some clarity.

"You like me, I like you. It's pretty clear, isn't it?" he responded.

You squinted your eyes at him, still not fully convinced.

"Now I can touch you as much as I want, and you can't escape anymore," he said with a mischievous grin, taking a step closer until he stood right in front of you.

"Oh, Merlin. You're a git," you exclaimed, unable to hold back a laugh. "Why on earth do I like you again?"

“Because I’m just that irresistible, obviously,” he laughed, joining in with you.

You placed your hand on his chest and playfully gave him a nudge. But before you could pull away, he surprised you by grabbing your hand. As you looked down at his hand enveloping yours, he posed a question. "So, about you admitting you like me... do you wanna back that up with a kiss?"

"Mhm, I'll have to think about that," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if you deserve it, to be honest."

He grinned cheekily and retorted, "Oh, I definitely deserve it. What have I ever done to not deserve it?"

“Let’s try and remember. Just last week you-”

As you were about to list all the things he had done, he surprised you again by silencing your words with a passionate kiss. In that moment, your thoughts faded into insignificance, consumed by the intensity of the kiss. His hand gently caressed your cheek, deepening the connection between you. Your emotions were running wild, and it felt as if your body was ablaze.

After a moment or an hour, he pulled back, and you took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. Opening your eyes, you gazed up at him.

"Sorry, I interrupted you. What were you saying?" he asked, his playful tone laced with a hint of mischief.

“I can’t remember,” you murmured, connecting your lips with his once more.

You’d been wrong all along—falling for your best friend might have been the best idea of all.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “YEAH I’M A BUSY WOMAN I WOULDN’T LET YOU COME INTO MY CALENDAR” ── .✦ ( batboys x uni!reader because why not ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: writing this while like two cans of coke zero and I genuinely might pull a crazy all nighter but I sleep at 5 am normally so WHO GIVE A FUCKK, anywayss this goes to my stress ridden babies due to midterms for you guys soon I thinkk (all of us 🥲) tags: (batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He brings you snacks when you’re studying and by “snacks” we mean full takeout meals because he forgets how to portion ( accidentally gets you like 10 different sauces because he didn’t know which one you’d want. )

Will absolutely FaceTime you during your breaks just to make you laugh and decompress.

“So what are we learning today, professor babe?” , “I’m not even a professor dick.” while spinning in your desk chair.

Offers to help you practice presentations and claps like a proud dad after. (YES HE’S THAT CRINGEY)

Shows up to your classes sometimes just to walk you home hoodie, shades, and all like he’s one of those celebrities who avoid paparazzi.

Brags about you constantly: “They’re in college. That’s hot.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Brings you coffee strong enough to revive the dead. “You said you had a paper due, I brought the goods.”

Pretends to not care but is 100% the one who stays up with you all night while you write essays.

Sits on the couch reading classic literature while you're buried in textbooks. "Need help understanding The Iliad? I gotchu." ( he’s the besttt explainer )

Might write your prof a strongly worded email if he thinks you got graded unfairly. You have to stop him.

“Study breaks” with him usually turn into making out. And somehow more caffeine. ( i volunteer to contribute i fear )

Secretly keeps one of your academic achievements (like a certificate or paper) in his bookshelf. Doesn’t tell anyone.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The ultimate study partner. Organized notes. Color-coded everything. Quizlet decks for days.

“You’re not sleeping enough. Here’s melatonin. And a planner. Also, breathe.”

Will pull all-nighters with you and still somehow get 100% on his own assignments.

If you’re freaking out, he builds a full 7-step action plan with deadlines, breaks, and snacks.

Occasionally goes “I read that journal article actually, it’s flawed,” and you’re like ( insert standing woman emoji fr fr 🧍‍♀️)

Loves helping you with research. You say “I need a source,” and he sends you 12 peer-reviewed papers in 5 mins.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦ ( AGED UP FOR THIS BUT NO NSFW!)

“Tt. University is easy. You're making it harder than it needs to be.”, “EXCUSE ME-“ But deep down, he’s in awe of how hard you work.

Brings you your favorite drink exactly how you like it without asking and knows what flavor of drinks you like too.

He proofreads your essays like he’s a dissertation committee. Will roast you but also fix every single grammar issue.

Draws you little doodles on sticky notes with encouraging messages like, “You are competent. Continue.”

constantly complaining to you to, “You should be getting more sleep.” “You should talk to your professor.” “You should eat breakfast.”

Acts unimpressed until you ace a test, and then he casually slips a gift into your bag like it’s no big deal.

[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 053 - Lover! Genius HSR Men x Dumbass! Fem! Reader: What do I do with you?... ♡ ˎˊ˗

[ Veritas Ratio, Dan Heng, Aventurine, Sunday ]

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕍𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕤 ℝ𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

For most students they dread the sudden random pop quizzes on mondays and fridays; but for a certain class they feared Veritas Ratio discovering their homeworks more than the monsters hiding underneath their beds. If there is a choice between dancing with the devil in scalding hot slippers vs having Veritas see your test results— They would much rather tango with the fiend than the latter.

But what about you? You who is the apple of the genius's eyes? How about your poor soul who has that grim reaper hovering over your shoulder almost 24/7?

"My dearest darling..." Veritas sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose while glancing at your mock test results. "We have gotten over 16 of these questions atleast for 3 hours..."

Ah yes, the familiar expression he does when he's about to nag you to no ends.

"But calculus is so hard!" You whine in protest, batting your puppy eyes on him hopes it works and that the violet haired man feels weak on the knees. "Please understand that I am not born with the same godly braincells you have, your divinity!"

"...." His nose scrunches at the flattering nickname, eyebrow twitching as he attempts to resist your charms.

It's working right?... Right?

It must be!

"If it weren't for the fact you had an impeccable english essay I would be scolding you to no end" Veritas lets out another heavy sigh. "Come, I'll go over these questions once again."

This calls for a celebration, atleast he spared you— To some degree.

Veritas read multiple articles as of late pertaining to individuals who have weak academic skills, he needed to understand idiots in order to teach idiots.

And since you were one... He has to try.

Did it work?

Surprisingly?

It did.

All he needed to do was to baby down the terms and teach you the solutions and terms four times over and over until you understand and can solve the problems by yourself.

Veritas is thoroughly impressed by your effort, or maybe you're just trying hard because you're scared of getting an earful from him?

It doesn't matter.

"Hm." He hums, inspecting the set of questions he made for you to solve. "I'm impressed, dearest. You're actually smarter than I thought, we'll work on your speed for the following day— Oof!"

Veritas sputters as he felt your body suddenly jump towards him. He lost balance for quite a bit but steadied himself on a desk while his other hand instinctively grasped your back.

"Is this your attempt of seducing me not to scold you?" He says, a tinge of pink on his cheeks as he tries to prevent his lips from twitching a smile.

"No, I just want to cuddle you" You mumble, nuzzling him further.

"Ugh" Veritas complains (right, as if he's not enjoying the affection) before returning your embrace.

He reckons you must have been tired from using the best capacity of your brain to understand the complicated calculus formulas he shoved down your throat in the past three hours.

For being a good student, you need some rest due rest and affection— From him of course. Who else would?

"Good job today" Veritas praises, his voice dropping into an affectionate tone as he pressed his lips on your temple.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕟𝕘 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Dan Heng is done with life. No not really, he can't leave you, not with your grades anyway. What'll happen to you if he's not here?

He scrunches his nose a little as he sees the pathetic score on your physics quiz. If he leaves you to your own devices, you will end up repeating a grade.

Dan Heng can't have that, he plans to spend all of his schoolyears by your side.

Separation anxiety they call it.

He takes a deep and tired sigh before looking down on you who is sulking on his lap like a defeated puppy.

What is he to do with you?

With how adorable you are right now, how can he resist you?

"Lift your head up," Dan Heng gently says, petting your hair lovingly. "Let's study together, hm? It'll be... Fun"

He wasn't the type to treat studying as a game. But after tutoring his dumbass friends: Caelus, Stelle, and March— He knows just how to play along and make efforts to get someone like you to study.

If he can get those nutheads to straighten up; then you would be no different.

As mischievous as you are, you also listen to Dan heng the most.

After a few more cooing and kisses (And maybe a threat that he wont let you borrow his jacket anymore)— You finally agree to his request.

It's for your own good anyway.

Dan Heng is very patient with you, making sure to slow things down and using multiple analogies to get you to understand. Calculations are complicated in the first place, he doesn't expect you to get it right the moment he teaches you.

Having trouble recalling the basics? He'll explain it to you.

He even goes as far as teaching you some calculation techniques to help you and most importantly he is teaching you shortcuts to make everything easier for you.

Solving problems is just finding a pattern anyway, as long as you recognize it— Then the rest will come easy.

And as he expected, after a few hours of trial and error— You have finally managed to get a score of 4/5 in the practice sheet he provided.

"Not so bad, is it?" Dan Heng said in that monotone but affectionate voice of his, placing a plate of your favourite snacks down on the empty space beside you. "You're doing so well."

"I'm sorry for bothering you..." You apologize, slumping down.

"No, it's alright," The ravenette boy shook his head and kissed the top of your head out of habit, "I like studying, especially if it's with you."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better" You pout, earning a soft smile from him at how cute you are.

"I'm not" Dan Heng mumbles as his lips stayed on your head. "Let's do this more often together. I am able to focus more when you're around me"

He's really just saying that just to make you feel better. But you can't really read him even if you're both dating him.

And Dan Heng knows you're doubting him no matter how sincere he is.

It doesn't matter.

He'll just have to make a way for you to acknowledge. For now though? Dan Heng is more than satisfied to just spend his time with you like this.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝔸𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕖 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"Pfft...." Aventurine snorts as he sees your worksheet littered with angry red marks and the pathetic score of 12/60 for the chemistry assignment. "Kek...."

"I hate you, we're breaking up" You mumble, earning a loud laugh from the damn peacock himself.

"Baby!" Aventurine cackles, nearly falling over as he laughed while his ome hand remains in your wrist so you wont leave. "Come now, don't be so prissy. It's not really my fault you zone out during class!"

"You're supposed to comfort me!" You whine, making him laugh even more.

"This one becomes reduced and this one is oxidized, you do know the difference, right?" Aventurine points out on the paper. "Hm?"

"No..." You say shamefully, feeling more depressed at your own stupidity.

Aventurine sees your spirits dwindling down and he takes a seat on the chair before patting his lap, "Here, I'll teach you"

"No, I don't trust you" You point a finger at him.

"I got a perfect score for the worksheet" His heterochromatic eyes curve into lovely crescents, "This unit is very complicated and requires a lot of thinking and pattern recognition. It's quite easy. Trust me, yeah? I never mistreated my pretty little girlfriend before after all"

You wanted to sulk.

As mischievous and philantropic as your boyfriend is, there's no mistaking that Aventurine is part of the top students in contrast to his lax personality.

No one can really mock him with his excellent grades no matter how much they hate his guts.

In the end, you relent, perching yourself on his lap as Aventurine grabbed a spare piece of paper and a pencil. He started explaining everything from the very top and making sure you are keeping up.

You thought he would be joking really, but Aventurine is serious. He made sure to quiz you after explaining a concept just to make sure if you are able to keep up. If not, then he wouldn't make fun of you and instead gently remind you.

Chemistry is a complicated subject, even he has to double check his solutions every now and then just to make sure the calculations he did aren't wrong.

He's fine with teaching you really.

It's his duty as your boyfriend to spoil, pamper, and love you as well as making sure you aren't lacking in your studies. It's not for his pride and image, he could care less about what people think. He just doesn't want you to have a breakdown over your low scores.

If there is anything he hates more than anything, it's seeing your tears fall down when he can fix it.

And this just so happens to be something he can solve easily.

"There we go, there we go~" He praises, giving your lips a chaste kiss as a reward for doing the practice questions right. "See not so bad, is it? You just needed a bit of some guidance you silly girl"

"...Thank you" You sheepishly say, making Aventurine pause as you cuddle up to him

Even after all this time, he still becomes weak whenever you become affectionate with him.

"Ah, what ever shall I do with you!" Aventurine cuddles you even tighter, swaying you left and right over his frustration over your cuteness. "Should we go out? I'll get you a birkin and then let's eat at your favourite buffet restaurant. You've been such a good girl today, I should spoil you."

"A birkin?!" You pale, looking at him as if he has lost the screws in his head.

"Don't think I don't know how you are looking at those birkin unboxings, babe" He taps your nose lovingly with the tip of his finger. "Now let's go!"

"Aventurine!!!"

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕪 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"Erm... What to do...." Sunday takes a deep sigh as he sees the state of your pathetic quiz paper.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

All of it was wrong.

Biology is really quite simple, but how come you're not able to keep up?

Sigh.

"I'm sorry..." You apologize in a weak voice.

You tried your best really, you reviewed as much as you could and banged your head on the wall multiple times without the halovian man looking to try and get the terminologies and cycles right.

"No, no" Sunday immediately says, lifting your face up with his palm. "It's alright my love, there's still time. You can make it up on the test."

"But..." You sulk, and he immediately shakes his head.

"Scores are just score, we can improve them" He smiles gently, kissing your forehead. "Come sit down with me, I'll teach you."

"Sorry for bothering you" You slump down as you sat on the chair he directed you to.

"No need" Sunday keeps that kind smile on his pretty face. "Our professor is very fast on discussing stuff, it's no wonder you are struggling to keep with the lessons. He also gets sidetracked with his life stories a lot... So it's alright"

He's just trying to make you feel better, and Sunday knows you feel that way.

"Here, let's start with rna" He opens the textbook on the pages he needs.

Genetics can be quite tricky if you don't have the fundamental knowledge, so Sunday started with the basics before ramping it up steadily to the complicated terms and processes.

He made sure to take a few minutes of break for the knowledge to sink in, he even fed you some snacks to keep you energized during the long tutoring.

He himself can't help but eat while studying after all, and it proves to be an effective method since you're able to retain more terms.

He didn't doubt you for a second, nor was he impatient.

Sunday took it as slow as it can be and lets you explain back what he just taught you on the top of your head. It's better to study in repetition with biology after all. Even Robin finds his teachings effective, so of course it will work on you too.

"We'll finish for today" Sunday closes the textbook and starts cleaning up the desk you two shared. "How do you feel?"

"A little better..." You admit, leaning on his shoulder. "You're always looking after me, I feel very childish"

"I apologize, I can't help but pamper you" He rubs his head against yours while his little ear wings flutter about at the closeness between you two. "Besides, I'm also reviewing when I'm teaching you. So it's not a loss for me. Studying can be quite lonely, it's better if we do it together."

"I'll do my best on the test, I promise..." You say, earning an even lovelier smile from your lover.

"I know you will," He kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger. "Don't pressure yourself too much, just do what you can. And then after test, how about I take you out on a date? I found a really good museum to visit nearby"

"Really?" Seeing you perk up, Sunday feel even more happy— His little ear wings fluttering even more as he cant contain his excitement to spend time with you.

"Yes, winding down after studying is extremely important" He stands up and offers a hand to you, "Speaking of which, we should head down for dinner. A hearty meal is a very much deserved rewad for you on working hard today"

He always knows what to do or say. It's like Sunday has magic whenever he talks, he can easily make you forget all the sadness and guilt you had earlier for the extremely low score you had for your biology quiz.

Yes.

There is no mistaking it.

Sunday is truly the best boyfriend there is.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Another hsr post after my short break because I felt lazy and unmotivated to do anything and because I was doing hw (◞‸◟；). Figured I might as well make a study comfort fic with these smart bois hehehehe. Idk if I did Dr. Ratio well, I hope I did.... I'm going to read up more abt his charac info in the game. I've been busy building Sunda as of late so heheh... I still have to fix his planar set kek. But he is thankfully on 204% cdᕦ(ò_ó)ᕤ. He and Robin make the perfect team!!! For anyone curious, my lineup is Aventurine, Dan Heng, Robin and Sunday ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[dreaming-of-epiphanies]

𝓛𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓘𝓷

PART 2 TO LOCKED OUT

Description: Slytherin!fem!Reader and academic rival!Tom finally get a chance to continue their unresolved business from before. (SMUT WARNING)

A/N: This was set up so well for a part 2 I couldn't resist. This is my first time posting smut so I hope you enjoy, because I have some more planned 😈 But seriously, hope you guys like this part 2!

Warnings: Smut (explicit) and bad language.

--

Ebony hair. Dark eyes. That smirk. Long, pale fingers that would feel incredible on your bare skin. You wanted them everywhere on you. You wanted him everywhere on you, in you… 

“Are you alright?” 

The concerned voice of your friend, Eleanor, pulled you from your thoughts, making you jump a little as you looked over at her in surprise. She was watching you sceptically, a slight frown on her face. You’d nearly forgotten she was there.

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” You said with a smile, quickly trying to cover up your awkwardness by dipping your quill into your inkpot, all business-like. Unfortunately, your odd behavior didn’t escape her notice. 

“You know, you’ve barely been doing your work for the past thirty minutes,” she pointed out, gesturing with her quill at your half-finished Arithmancy essay. The parchment hasn’t had a new sentence added to it since you arrived at the library and your brain traitorously wandered off to the same subject it had been going to for days. 

“Yeah, I’m just a little… distracted. I have prefect duty tonight.” You shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t poke around anymore. You weren’t sure how in the name of Merlin you’d be able to explain you were fantasizing about Tom Riddle, should she ask what you were thinking about. He was supposed to be your academic rival, the one infuriating person who scores higher than you and who you were supposed to hate! You were definitely not supposed to wonder how his lips would feel on yours and how he’d feel inside of-

Shut up!

You flashed another smile at Eleanor and she eyed you suspiciously for another moment before turning back to her work. You breathed a sigh of relief before dipping your quill into your inkpot again and bringing it back to hover over your parchment. It took all of twenty seconds for a flash of mahogany eyes to appear in your mind’s eye and you were lost in a daydream yet again. 

Riddle slides his hand across your neck and down your arm, letting it ghost across your skin. He lowers his lips to your collarbone, pressing a light kiss there before letting his mouth descend further down. He snakes one arm around your waist, pushing his hand up your shirt until he reaches the clasp of your bra. Gently nipping at the skin of your chest, he unhooks the bra and slowly drags it off of you, beginning to pull your shirt up as well. He lifts his head and his eyes pierce into yours, all darkness and hunger and you can hardly-

“...hello?” For the second time, Eleanor’s voice brought you back into the present moment. You jolted out of your fantasy and she gave a long sigh, rolling her eyes in exasperation. 

“I don’t know what’s been up with you recently, but you have patrol in thirty minutes,” she said, pointing to the clock behind you. You glanced at it and muttered “shit,” before starting to shove your things away. 

“Thanks for letting me know,” you said sheepishly, buttoning your bag and swinging it over your shoulder. She nodded and then gave you a knowing look. 

“I hope whoever’s on your mind finds a way to get out of it,” she said, and you winced. Great. You hadn’t been as subtle as you’d hoped. 

You left the library, hastily making your way back to the Slytherin common room so you could freshen up before patrolling the halls. You’d barely gotten any work done today- well, actually for the past week- and you were beginning to get more and more frustrated. The sooner Riddle left your mind, the better. You’d had a strange interaction with him once and suddenly he was all you could think about. 

You muttered the password to the common room and shoved away the reminder of you and Riddle outside that very same door less than a week ago. The last thing you needed was to zone out during your prefect duty. 

Hurrying across the common room, you threw a quick glance around to make sure Riddle was nowhere to be seen. You somehow hadn’t seen him since he’d… almost kissed you (or whatever had come close to happening). Now that it had been nearly a week since that had happened, you were dreading running into him again. You just knew it would be awkward and uncomfortable as hell. Besides, with final exams approaching, your mind needed to be clear and focused on studying, not coming up with some stupid daydream of you and him frollicking across the grounds holding hands or something. (Of course, your daydreams about him never went down such… appropriate paths.) 

You dropped your bag on your dorm bed and shrugged out of your casual outfit, changing into your prefect uniform for the night. As you did the buttons to your shirt, you tried not to think about how badly you’d wanted Riddle to rip them away during your- Merlin, what could you even call what happened?- encounter. 

You huffed a little as you grabbed your robe, swinging it over onto your arms. Really, this was an incredibly inconvenient development. You and Riddle had been perfectly fine as rivals! Why did he have to go and almost kiss you? And make you want him to? Rivals shouldn’t be wanting to kiss each other. 

Pinning your prefect badge onto your robe, you resolved to put the encounter you’d had with him out of your head for the night. You had to focus on your patrol. But as luck would have it, the second you opened the common room door to leave, you came face to face with-

“Riddle.” You stopped short, frozen in your tracks as your hand dropped from the door in surprise.

He stared back, clearly having not expected to see you there either. His hair was perfectly smoothed back, as always, and his eyes glinted dark in the muted light from the common room. Your heart jumped a little as you looked at him, remembering how close he’d been to you the other night. Was he going to say something? Kiss you right then and there? Your mind started to whirl with the possibilities before noticing the way his gaze hardened. He didn’t seem happy to see you. 

Quite the opposite, in fact: he flicked his eyes away from yours as he stepped past, making sure to create a wide berth between your bodies. Without a word, he disappeared around the corner of the common room and you let the door swing shut, still frozen in place. 

Yep. Definitely awkward.

You were a little shaken up but forced yourself to lift your head and straighten your robes before setting off down the corridor on your patrol. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, the sharp click of your shoes on the stone floor was the only sound that echoed through the halls of the castle. It was late at night and nearing the end of your patrol, so you were doing one last sweep of the second floor before heading back down to the dungeons. The corridors were deserted and dark, except for the faint bluish glow of the moonlight streaming in the windows. The portraits were all snoozing and there wasn’t a ghost in sight, so when you saw a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye, it immediately caught your attention. 

Pulling your wand from your pocket, you strode towards whatever you saw, preparing to cast Lumos or Stupefy, depending on what had caused it. 

“Who’s there?” You called quietly, eyes narrowed as you tried to make out any shapes in the shadowy corridor. Nothing made itself known, but you got the distinct feeling that you were being watched. You stopped next to the door of the girls' bathroom, casting your gaze about suspiciously. Still, you couldn’t see a thing. 

Then, almost so inconspicuous you nearly missed it, you felt the light but slightly uncomfortable feeling of someone attempting to read your mind. 

Riddle. 

You quickly shut your brain down with Occlumency, but not all of it. You made sure to leave a little part of your thoughts unprotected, allowing them to be penetrated by Riddle. He was clearly a skilled Legilimens, considering his efforts had nearly escaped your notice and had successfully remained undetected the last time he did it, but now you were prepared. 

You let your annoyance and confusion at him fill the space of your mind you had left exposed, focusing on how strange he’d been acting earlier, allowing him to feel some of your frustration before immediately turning your attention to wondering what had been the cause of the suspicious movement. Just a little flash of your thoughts to give him something to think about. If he could tempt you, you could tempt him. 

You felt the poking at the edges of your consciousness draw away and knew it had worked. Part of you hoped he’d make himself known now, the other wanted him to remain hidden in the shadows so you could return to the common room without another interaction with him 

Luckily- or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it- he stepped into the light, tall, dark, and imposing. He wasn’t supposed to be out this late, no one was except for prefects. But of course he was. Despite being a model student and maintaining a spotless record, Riddle broke more school rules than you’d ever seen anyone break before. And he still managed to get away with it. This time, though, you wouldn’t let him escape breaking curfew without a consequence. 

Maybe you were being slightly petty. 

“You’re out late,” you remarked, lowering your wand as he stood there, still partly obscured by the shadows. 

“As are you,” he said. You tapped your prefect badge in response. 

“I’m supposed to be,” you said, tone slightly charged. “You aren’t.”

He straightened up slightly but remained still. “What are you planning to do about it?” He asked in a voice so low it sent a slight shiver through you as tilting his head to the side, eyes marginally narrowed. A small flame of anger sparked in you. Was he teasing you? Trying to see how you’d react? Was he doing this purposefully? 

You were struck with how similar this was to what brought about the near-kiss with him last week: one of you staying out past curfew, the other tasked with giving them a consequence. The only difference was that Riddle hadn’t written you up last time, but you were planning to give him detention now. 

“Write you a slip for detention, of course,” you said matter-of-factly, pulling a pad of paper and a quill out, already starting to write him up. You heard a small laugh and before you could even write his name, a pale hand was placed on top of the paper pad, lowering it down. You cut your eyes up to him, indignant. 

“Ah, now we don’t want that, though, do we, darling?” He asked in a smooth voice, cocking a brow as his eyes bored into yours. The nickname aggravated you, making you tense up slightly in annoyance. Yes, he was definitely teasing you on purpose now.

He took another step closer, stopping less than a foot away. He was so close you could smell his cologne. The same one from last time, you thought, and a small smirk grew on his face at that as you realised you’d unconsciously lifted the barriers against Legilimency and he could freely read your mind. You quickly shut it down again, angrily forcing him out of your thoughts. 

“Maybe you don’t, but I do.” You pulled the paper away from him, stepping back and continuing to write the detention slip. “At least I was in the library when you found me out past curfew last time. You were just lurking in the shadows.” 

Riddle went silent at this, which was never a good sign. You glanced up despite logic telling you not to, and was met with a slightly foreboding smirk on his face. 

“Have you been thinking about our last encounter a lot, darling?” He asked, apathetically enough, but you could feel the undercurrent of tension in the loaded question. If you’d let him, he could’ve fully read your mind and figured out just how much the memory had been plaguing you. If you told him now, then you weren’t sure what his next move would be. Would he attempt to pick up where you’d left off, or continue avoiding you like he had been all week, which had left you frustratingly perplexed?

“Have you?” You countered, pocketing your quill and ripping off the detention slip. “You have detention, Riddle,” you said, pushing it unceremoniously into his hands. “Saturday at ten.” 

He lifted the detention slip, inspecting it like it could be counterfeit. “Hm,” he said, turning it over in his hands. “What a waste of paper.” Then he tore it in half. 

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as he looked back defiantly, a smug smile on his face. Merlin, he was such a prick!

“Problem?” He asked innocently, and that’s when you lost your temper. You took a step closer, tilting your head up so you could maintain eye contact with him. 

“You just blatantly disobeyed a prefects’ order. Of course there’s a problem.” You snapped, glowering into his eyes that had a glint of challenge in them. 

“I am a prefect too, as I am sure you’re aware. I can simply invalidate the detention slip,” he said, so smugly confident and completely aware he was the cause of your anger. From the looks of it, he was enjoying it too.

“Only you would deign to be so difficult,” you hissed, stepping closer until you were nearly toe to toe. He looked down at you, smirk still in place. 

“And why should I stop, when the reaction it incites in you is so… pleasing?” He murmured, and all of a sudden you realised just how close you were standing. 

“Pleasing?” You echoed scathingly. Your first instinct was to pull back, to step away before there was a chance for anything along the same lines of what happened before to happen again. But a little flare of fury in you told you to stay, and vex him the same way he had to you. 

“Pleasing?” You repeated, with a more musing tone rather than an angry one now. You dragged your eyes from his down his body and up again, making sure to take a couple extra seconds to look at his lips before meeting his gaze again. “Mm, I like the sound of that.”

You took another step closer, having to almost completely tilt your head back to look him in the eye. Your chests nearly bumped up against each other, and you gently placed your hands on his arms. He glared down at you, a muscle working in his jaw and evidently caught off guard by the turn this interaction had taken.

You were playing with fire, you knew it. If you went too far, you’d get burned. 

But then again, maybe that was what you wanted. 

You lightly drifted one of your hands up his arm and across his shoulder, much like the way he had done to you except in the opposite direction. Placing your palm against the back of his neck, you toyed with the hair there, letting your fingers sift through it and watching the way his breathing got quicker. 

“Who knew you liked when I’m authoritative?” You smiled, using your other hand to trace across his chest, making sure to flick his prefect badge off kilter. He wasn’t on patrol tonight, he didn’t even need to wear it. But of course he did, perfect Riddle. 

“It’s really too bad I can’t use Legilimency,” you continued, biting your lip and feeling him stiffen beneath your touch as his eyes zeroed in on the motion. “I would just love to know what you’re thinking right now.”

Without warning, Riddle brought his hands up to your waist and backed you up to the wall, head bent low so his mouth was hovering over yours.  

“I can hear what you’re thinking, darling,” he hissed, lightly stroking your torso with his thumbs. “I can hear you wishing I’d fuck you.” 

Your breath caught and your mouth fell shut, the previously confident words disappearing as you felt your throat go dry. He leaned in closer, so close you could feel his heartbeat against your chest.

“I can tell you what I’m thinking, too,” he said, voice silkily smooth and laced with danger. “And I’m wanting to fuck you as well.” 

He leaned down and your eyes closed, ready to hungrily meet his mouth, but before your lips could touch he pulled away. Your eyes flew open in fury, about to tell him off, but then you heard the telltale footsteps of somebody approaching. 

Riddle had stepped back fully, and just in time. Professor Dumbledore emerged from the shadows, looking between you and Riddle with an expression of intended ignorance. It was clear he knew what had just (nearly) happened, but was choosing to pretend it hadn’t. 

“Good evening,” he said. “It is rather late for two model students such as yourselves to be out. I believe prefect patrol ended just a few moments ago, if my watch is correct.”

You blanched. You had forgotten all about your patrol. You shot Riddle a dirty look, since he had made you forget, but his eyes were fixed on Dumbledore. 

“Certainly, sir,” he nodded, the perfect picture of obedience. “We were just heading back.”

Dumbledore nodded as well, turning to look at you over his half-moon spectacles. “Please make sure you return to your dorms promptly,” he said with a knowing smile before stepping past you, his long robes swishing behind him. 

You waited until he rounded the corner to turn and glare at Riddle. “Really?” You snapped. “Dumbledore almost caught us-” You stopped your sentence halfway. What had you been about to do? Snog? Makeout? Tumble into the nearest empty room and rip each other’s clothes off? “...You almost got us in trouble.” You finished. 

“Had we gotten into trouble, I was not the one who incited the incident,” he said, not looking at you as turned on his heel and set off for the staircase leading to the lower levels of the castle. 

You let out a groan and followed him, letting your footsteps echo pointedly on the floor as he led you back to Slytherin common room. He didn’t look at you once, but nearly snapped the password at the door once you arrived. 

It swung open and you couldn’t help but let out a scoff. “Didn’t forget the password this time, hm?” You muttered, pushing past him to the staircase leading to the girls dormitories.

“Your behavior is horrendous at times,” he bit out at your retreating form. 

“And you’re an incorrigible prick,” you snapped back, whipping around to face him, your eyes ablaze with anger and ready for an argument. But he had already turned his back and was stalking away towards the boys dormitories. 

You glared at his back for a split second longer before stomping the rest of the way to your dorm. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the week passed without any more interactions with Riddle. Seeing him again had only made you think about the situation even more, and you had barely been able to focus in class due to the anger that always started simmering in your veins whenever you thought of him. Noticing your lack of focus, your friends had convinced you to come with them to the Gryffindor party that weekend, telling you it could help take your mind off things and maybe even give you the distraction of another boy to place your attention on instead. You hadn’t told them it was Riddle yet, but they knew it was something having to do with a guy. 

So on Saturday night, you put on your favorite dress and headed to Gryffindor Tower with your friends. It was around ten, and the party was packed with people. You spotted students from every house, recognizing a few familiar faces from your classes. The one person you didn’t see, however, was Riddle. But you pushed the thought of him out of your mind, trying to follow your friends’ advice and enjoy the party without dwelling on him. 

The party was fun and lasted into the early hours of the morning. It neared one with no sign of stopping. You hadn’t found anyone to “distract” yourself with yet (and honestly didn’t want to), but when a nice boy from Ravenclaw approached, your friends practically shoved you into his arms. 

The two of you danced for a bit, but you couldn’t help wishing it was Riddle’s dark brown eyes you were looking into instead of the boy’s green ones. 

And speaking of his eyes… 

You caught a glimpse of someone glaring at you from across the room, clutching their goblet of firewhiskey with a grip so tight their knuckles were turning white.

It was Riddle. 

And his eyes were shooting daggers. 

Your heart skipped a beat at first, but then you almost scoffed at his expression. He looked jealous. But he’d had two opportunities in less than two weeks to do something about it if he really felt anything for you, and you were done with the near misses. 

Still, you were finished dancing with this Ravenclaw boy, so you removed yourself from his arms when the music came to an end, heading back over to your friends. 

“So? How was it?” Eleanor asked when you stepped up next to her. You shrugged. 

“Fine. But I don’t think it helped.” You frowned, thinking of the way Riddle’s glare was burned into your brain, and she sighed. 

“Well, it was worth a shot. Whoever you’re thinking about must really be worth it, then.”

Your thoughts turned to the guy standing across the room, all darkness and danger and intoxication. You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull. 

“I don’t know about that, but I can’t seem to get him off my mind,” you muttered, and took a swig of firewhiskey. 

The party continued on for a while until you decided you were done and wanted to go back to your dorm. You had prefect duty later that day, and had to make sure you were well-rested lest your mind be filled with pointless thoughts about Riddle again. 

Excusing yourself from your friends, you left the party and were nearly halfway to the winding staircase leading to the castle’s lower floors when you heard the sharp clearing of a throat behind you. You closed your eyes briefly in frustration, already knowing who it was. 

“What do you want, Riddle?” You asked in irritation before turning to look at him and immediately getting startled by the speed and anger of which he was walking towards you. With quick, determined strides, he stalked up to you, eyes glinting hard and sparkling with wrath. 

“You are intolerable,” he hissed, towering over you. “You insist on teasing me and making me jealous. Why?” 

“Making you jealous, really?” You scoffed. “You teased me first!” 

“You hardly pulled away.”

You clamped your mouth shut at that, knowing you couldn’t deny it. Still, you were seething with anger and wanted to take it out on him. 

“If you wanted to kiss me, you would’ve done it already,” you said wildly, and Riddle’s eyes narrowed into slits, glinting ruby red in the dim light. 

“I was under the impression academic rivals do not want to kiss each other. Or is that not what you’ve been thinking?” He snapped. 

“You’re right- they don’t. So why did you try to kiss me?” You countered, crossing your arms. 

“Why didn’t you stop me?” He retorted, and with that, he stepped past you, robes brushing roughly against your arm. You let out a scoff. 

“Oh, don’t you dare walk away from me!” 

You chased after him, nearly having to run to keep up. He was headed further into the corridors of the seventh floor, not slowing his pace even as he heard you stomping after him.

“Riddle,” you called sharply. He kept walking, not even flinching at your words or pausing his stride. You let out an aggravated sigh, continuing to stalk after him as he abruptly turned a corner, leading you down a corridor with nothing but a tapestry on one of the walls. All of a sudden, he turned on his heel and whirled towards you, eyes alight with rage. 

“You are impossible,” he thundered, stalking at you before turning on his heel again and pacing the other way. “You are infuriating and maddening and get on my every last nerve.” He turned around, coming towards you again. “You insist on scoring higher than I do, out-competing me for everything, and then refuse to leave me alone.” He spun yet again, stalking back down the corridor away from you before pivoting back to you once more. “You are in my mind during every second of every day and I do not want you to leave it!” 

With that, he grabbed your elbow and tugged you towards a door that you were certain hadn’t been there before. Without giving you time to respond or even process his words, he yanked the door open and pulled you into him before it could shut. Your lips met and immediately it was the most fiery, all-consuming kiss you’d ever experienced. 

His hands grabbed at your waist, clutching you into him as you plunged your hands into his hair, pulling at the strands and hearing him groan into your mouth. He swiped his tongue at your lips and you opened them without a second thought, relishing the feeling of his hot tongue on yours. 

His arms swept around you, pulling you closer into him and you wrapped one arm around his neck, forcing his head down to yours. His lips moved against yours, crushing your mouths together. You experimentally bit lightly at his lip and when he let out a strangled sound, you smirked against his mouth and leaned in more. 

One of his hands made its way to your throat, holding it with a light but firm pressure as the kiss deepened. You could barely think, barely breathe, and-

Fuck. You’d forgotten all about oxygen.

You reluctantly pulled your lips away from Riddle’s, inhaling deeply as your lungs filled with air once more. You were still gasping for breath, but you didn’t think you’d ever been more satisfied to need air. Riddle’s hand was still on your throat and yours were still pushed into his hair. Well, one of them was. The other somehow made its way to his chest and now your palm was resting against it so you could feel his heartbeat. 

You looked up at him and couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face. He hadn’t torn his eyes from you and his chest was still heaving like yours.   

You leaned your head back and steadied your hand on his neck, grinning up at him. “Finally,” you said, and he shook his head, a smirk quickly growing in his face. 

“I second that,” he drawled, leaning in to press another quick kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, you sighed contentedly. 

“I have to say, I’m very glad you tore up that detention slip from the other night,” you told him. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have come to the party and this wouldn’t have happened.” He rolled his eyes, looking fondly down at you. 

“I suppose I have to agree,” he conceded, gently squeezing your waist. You grinned and pulled your arms from around his neck reluctantly. 

“We better get back to the common room, though,” you said. “Before Dumbledore catches us out again.” 

He nodded, though his frown let you know wasn’t happy to leave the room. You weren’t either. If it was up to you, you’d stay for the rest of the night (or longer). 

Reaching for the door handle, you pulled at it only for it not to budge. You tried again. Nothing. 

“Uh…” you stared in confusion at it, only to hear an understanding laugh coming from Riddle. You glanced up quizzically, surprised to see a smirk on his face. 

“It would seem you have discovered one of the quirks of this room,” he said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “This is the Room of Requirement. It changes its interior and properties in accordance to the needs of the person who summons it. I summoned a place for us to… interact undisturbed.” 

You looked around the room with interest, noting the regal yet intimate atmosphere. There was a velvety looking couch to your left, a wall of books that stretched to the ceiling, and- your heart leapt- a bed in the far corner of the room.

“You wanted this room?” You asked, not sure what to make of the fact it seemed Riddle thought he needed a bed for whatever interaction he’d had planned with you. An image of him throwing you down on it flashed through your mind and you quickly altered that previous statement with a fluttering in your stomach. You knew exactly what to make of it. 

Riddle nodded, still smirking down at you. “Yes. And as it would appear, you do not want to leave so the Room is… helping us with that, so to speak.” You cut your eyes down to the suspiciously unmoving door. 

“The Room locked us in?” You said, a small, understanding smile forming on your face. Riddle hummed in agreement, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“The only question is… what do you need to do in here?” He murmured suggestively, voice low and dangerous. You grinned a little, stepping closer and roping your arms around his neck. 

“Hm, I’m not sure,” you teased, biting your lip in the way you knew he liked. “Maybe we could study for our exams, or discuss what feedback Professor Merrythought left on our essays-” 

Riddle interrupted you with a kiss and you couldn’t help but smile into it, pulling away just enough to get your next words out. 

“On second thought, I think you know exactly what I want,” you muttered before pressing your lips onto his again. He laughed into your mouth, immediately bending down and scooping you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he backed you up towards the couch, leaning you over the arm of it and promptly climbing on top of you. 

“Isn’t there a bed in here?” You gasped, breaking away from his lips long enough to catch a breath before his mouth descended onto your throat and you couldn’t breathe again. 

“Too far,” he grunted into your neck. “Need you now.”

Oh Merlin, you probably could’ve come from that alone. Riddle slid his hands up and down your torso, brushing his palms teasingly over your breasts and you arched your back up, overtaken by sensation and that satisfied little laugh he made at your reaction. His hands reached your thighs again and found their way under your dress, pushing the material up as he ascended his fingers across your bare skin. 

One touch of his hand on your breast had you moaning and you felt him grow even harder on top of you, his grip getting a little firmer as he kneaded at your chest. You wrapped your legs around his torso, pushing yourself into him and he broke away, eyes dilated and lips swollen. 

“Do you want to do this?” He asked, moving one of his hands down to your thigh and sliding it up and down. You nodded, already breathlessly pulling him back into you. 

He kissed you for a few moments more, sliding his hands all about your body and relishing finally being able to touch you that way until you bit at his lip again and something in him clearly snapped. 

He pulled his hands away and you heard the clinking of his belt buckle, followed by a louder clang when it hit the floor. His lips remained on yours as he shoved his trousers down, frantic to get as close as possible. 

Positioning his hips against yours, he continued to kiss you, sliding his tongue against yours and lightly grasping your neck with hand, while the other made its way down to your panties. 

“I like these…” he whispered, fingers toying with the lace fabric. You frowned a little at the strange comment.

“Yes-”

“..but I like them better off.” He finished and the sound of ripping fabric filled the air, but you barely had time to process it before he kissed you again and-

Fucking hell, this man was incredible. His fingers moved against you in such a perfect rhythm you were sure this was a dream. He seemed to know every spot, every little thing you need that it wasn’t long before you were panting and chasing your high, seeing stars form at the edge of your vision

At the last moment, his fingers were pulled away, only to be replaced with-

“Tom-” you gasped, clutching at his shoulders. 

“You can take me, darling,” he murmured against your skin, biting slightly at it. “Just breathe.” 

And then he slid in. Immediately, every other thought and feeling vanished as you were overtaken by the feeling of him inside you. He moved slowly at first, adjusting you and making sure you were comfortable before pulling back and pushing in with a quick, insistent speed. The message was clear: Tom needed you, and he needed you now. 

Your high approached faster than you expected, but from the combination of Tom’s kisses and movements, it wasn’t long before you were pushed over the edge. Tom followed almost immediately, spilling into you hot and collapsing over your body, pressing kisses onto you as you both caught your breath.

“That was…” you panted, running your hands through his hair. 

“I hope you get us locked in here more often,” he said against your skin and you laughed, throwing an arm across your face. 

He sat up, pulling out of you and moving to guide you into his arms. You threw your legs over his lap, hearing both of your breaths slow down. 

“You called me Tom,” he said suddenly, and you blinked in surprise. 

“Did I?” You asked, genuinely not sure, and he nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “Right before we-”

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. “I’m not sure I remember that,” you said teasingly, slowly leaning up and throwing your leg over his hips to straddle his lap. “Maybe recreating the scene will help me recall?”

His lips formed a devilish smirk as his hands came to rest at your hips. “Oh, gladly,” he murmured, already leaning in for another kiss. You eagerly returned it, pushing his head back slightly against the couch before groaning his name again as his hands drifted up under your dress.

“Rivals are not necessarily supposed to call each other by their first names,” he pointed out, drawing back slightly. You grinned and tightened your grip on his shoulders. 

“Rivals aren’t supposed to do a lot of things we’ve been doing, but I can’t say I’m complaining.” You shrugged, biting your lip. 

“No, neither can I,” he agreed with a smirk, before pulling you into another kiss. 

You smiled against his mouth, hoping the door would keep you locked in for a whole lot longer. 

--

A/N (again): Did anyone notice where Tom was when he was "lurking in the shadows?" Second floor of the castle, near the girls' bathroom... thought that would be a fun detail to include. Also, I'm not sure if the Room of Requirement has the particular skill to lock people inside should they want it, but let's assume it does for the sake of the story. Thanks for reading! :)

Credit to @sunder-soul for the headcanon that Tom doesn't do choking. I agree!

aaaand tagging @viperify because we both love academic rival!Tom

[scarfacemarston]

Teacher!Natasha x Teacher!Reader Oneshot

For Lesbian Visibility Week! If you enjoyed this, please note and reblog! Feel free to send other prompts or requests! Prompt: The students come into your classroom complaining about Natasha as a teacher not knowing you're her wife. This is version 1. You sighed as you glanced at the digital clock on your computer. Damn. Your planning period was almost over, and you really needed to finish grading these essays. Soon, you would be back to teaching your high school history classes for the day. The period ended far too quickly as students began to file their way into the classroom, discussing this and that. You were so engrossed in your work that you were hardly paying attention until you heard “Ms. Romanoff” mentioned not once, not twice, but in a string of sentences. Oh boy. Ms. Romanoff was one of the more controversial teachers at the school known for her no-nonsense attitude, sternness and sarcasm , but she was also fair with a dry sense of humor. “Why did I take international politics as an elective? Oh, that’s right, I thought it would look good on my transcript!” One student said sarcastically. “She’s so nitpicky! I got an A-. AN A MINUS!” “Hers is the only class I don’t fall asleep in anymore. Not since….last time.” “She’s so strict even the Macklin brothers shut up.” “She’s terrifying. I heard she used to be an undercover agent in the CIA”. You smirked at that one. You should probably look into that rumor. “A spy? Shut-up, man. Who’s going to believe that?” “I heard she was a failed actress.” “I heard she voiced the Russian Siri.” “I heard she’s a rich heiress that lost all her cash.” “Look, guys, I don’t care. She just ripped our class to shreds.I just can’t right now. Nearly the entire class failed her last test. These test corrections are going to take all night.” “At least you’re allowed test corrections! We’re her AP class and the only way we can make up points is through a new essay.” “She’s scary. I swear” “I think she knows what I’m thinking and then that makes me think more and then she thinks what I’m thinking and that thinking makes my head hurt.” “I was ONE minute late to class and she gave me a late slip!” “One time my grandma called me in class, and she made me pick it up.” You shot a quick text to Natasha before the bell rang. Her classroom was two doors down from yours since you two were technically in the same department. Time to log off your grading program and begin class. You pulled out the binder with today’s lesson plans ready to begin. “Wow, you all are full of comments about Ms Romanoff today.” You said neutrally. “Miss Y/N, you don’t understand. She’s so ….uh, extra.” You withheld a smirk. Natasha wasn’t what you would call extra, but she was set in her ways.” “I don’t think she’s extra. I think she just has high standards.” You responded. One of the students rolled their eyes.

"Do you all talk about me like this when I'm not here?"

"Nooo Ms. Y/N, we would never!"

"Well, maybe you could extend the same courtesy to my wife next time," you said, withholding a laugh. The room fell silent. A pin could have dropped.

“Fuck” you heard someone say under their breath. “Language”, you chastised, but you couldn’t say you blamed them. You saw the students in various forms of awkward shuffling, a cough here or there or “Ummm” or “Uhh” as students tried to form sentences. “Wait, you’re married?” a student questioned before being glared at by the others. Your fourth period class was near silent for the rest of the period, with the students seemingly still in shock. One minute til the bell rang. You saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of your eye. Thirty seconds. Natasha knocked on the door. “Hey, you, we’re all ordering from Robert’s Deli for lunch. You want your usual or will you finally try something new?” Natasha teased. The class whipped their heads collectively towards the door. It was becoming harder not to laugh. Natasha narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on, Y/n?” “Oh, you’re scaring my class, dear!” You said, smiling widely. Natasha scoffed. “Dear, huh? Oh, so they found out, didn’t they? As if us entering the building together and leaving together in the same car wasn’t hint enough that we’re married.  Yeah, I might have scared a few of them. It was well deserved, trust me, Isn’t that right, Reynolds?” Jason Reynolds sank down into his seat, not meeting Natasha’s eyes. The bell rang. The students couldn’t scramble enough as they grabbed their bags and rushed past Natasha. You gave a small laugh as you finally met Natasha. “You’re a mean woman, you know that?” “Hey, you texted me, babe.” “It was great, not gonna lie. Sorry the “secret” is out.” “It’s not like we’re closeted, we’re simply professional. I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner….or maybe I’m not.” Natasha muttered. Your stomach growled. “Alright, I’ll look up the menu. Find something new to try for once. Promise.” You said in response to your stomach. Natasha nodded. “Don’t want you to scare the next class because you’re hungry.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End

[ohtobelovedbyme]

"What do you think of me?" | yjh [ch3]

Pairing: YJH x Reader

Genre: best friend’s brother to lovers (or something), FLUFF, romcom, office setting, yjh and his sister are nepo babies

Summary (this chapter basically goes like this): you: just trying to survive internship hell jeonghan: what if i grabbed ur wrist and whispered in ur ear while drunk also jeonghan: accidentally falls on you and passes out while BTS plays in the background also also jeonghan: “what do you think of me?” update: he stole the can you drank on and now you think he’s wearing your same, exact perfume. chat, is this normal behavior?

A/N: FINALLY DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER AHHH. I was planning on publishing this and ch4, but I figured you guys would want to read this first cause it's been 3 days (?) now 😭😭

Teaser | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 3

By 3:17 PM, you had already run out of your post-its, remaining patience, and reasons to live. Since last week, your seniors have been dumping all their work onto the interns. Your group chat, named “Corporate Work Trauma,” had more than 99 unread messages, either from interns begging the other to help them complete their work or wishing that your seniors would magically get fired and be replaced by more responsible people.

Just as you were about to complete your final assignment for today, you hear the sound of that stupid humming again.

“Intern! I’ll be needing your help with some of the materials for tomorrow.” Manager Kang, from a completely different department, walked over with urgent footsteps and dropped a stack of documents on your desk.

You just stared at it blankly. Manager Kang then cleared his throat, as if to say, “Oh, don’t worry. That will only take you 5 minutes.”

“Just flag me what’s urgent on e-mail, and I’ll get to it as soon as possible,” you looked up with the smiliest and politest face you’ve ever worn, but anyone who knew you would know that you were on the verge of either killing Manager Kang or breaking down.

“Great attitude,” he said, walking away.

“What an ass,” you muttered under your breath. You couldn’t hold it in, but you didn’t want to get fired either.

It was petty, yeah, but so was this day. And the day before that. And the day before yesterday.

From his office, Jeonghan looked up from his monitor. He looked around the room, and all the lights were turned off except for the intern area. 

This usually happens every time the company hires new interns. A “rite of passage,” they called it. A hazing, he’d say. Usually, those seniors would get a serious talking to by the rest of the management, but this was just for formality since, well, those same people also do the same thing.

Jeonghan scrunched his nose just at the thought of how many interns quit last year. He did try to help them, albeit only those in his department. He only heard about those assholes from those adjacent departments that dumped tasks onto his interns and made them do their work when two of them quit. From then on, he banned other departments from casually coming in and out of his department. But I guess this happened again, since the interns right now have been staying late in the office for three days straight.

He finally stood up and went out of his office to tell the interns to go home for the night and to report to him about who was making them work and what they were assigned to do.

“Hey.” 

You blinked up from your monitor, staring. Joenghan’s voice was low and effortless, like it was just another thought passing through the room.

The rest of the interns did the same and asked him if there was anything he needed. He asked them to leave for the night and to report to him tomorrow

The rest of the interns looked up like they’d just been told the war was over.

“Oh my god. Finally,” one of them breathed out, already half-standing.

“Bro, I’m gonna write a 10-page essay about the hell these people put me through,” another muttered, cracking their knuckles with a vengeance.

“Team Leader Yoon, you’re the realest one here,” someone said, patting their bag and walking out like it was the end of a prison sentence.

One of them turned back to you. “You coming?”

You glanced at your monitor, finger still hovering over the trackpad. “Yeah. Just have to finish this last page,” you said with a small smile.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Won’t take long.”

With a round of exhausted goodbyes and a collective sigh that echoed through the empty office, the rest of them finally filtered out.

When the last of the other interns finally leaves the office, you look up at your monitor. It was just one last page, and you were done. Might as well finish this and not let your hard work go down the drain before the bloody battle that breaks out tomorrow. 

“You free for a second?” Jeonghan, who, unbeknownst to you, has been staring at you since he dismissed you.

“Hmm? Me?” you asked, surprised. That was a dumb way to respond, since you were the only one there (other than him). But, you know, you’re tired, he’s tired. There’s something abysmal, yet normal, about your reaction.

“No, the ficus. Yes, you. You’re the only one here.”

You got up, slowly, wary. “Okay…”

Jeonghan walks to his office, and you follow him. Right now, you’re not sure about what’s happening. He just dismissed you a while ago, right? You didn’t just dream that, right?

He opened his office door for you, and you stepped in. You’re hit with the scent again, but this time, it's more subtle. 

It was late in the evening, and you’re too tired. The ambience of it all was so relaxing, you’re sure you would sleep here right now, if it weren’t for the subconscious part of your body telling you to sleep in your own bed. 

“Sit,” Jeonghan said, his eyes pointing towards the couch.

You, oddly enough, half-expected a lecture on HR violations or intern responsibilities. More work. Maybe a mild scolding delivered in that stupidly smooth voice of his.

As you went to plop on the couch, he opened the drawer under his desk. From your view, you could see the shine of aluminium. A canned herbal tea and a familiar chocolate almond bar. Weird combo? Sure. But it was your go-to back in college, herbal tea and almond chocolate during all-nighters.

Jeonghan walked over to you, his shadow looming over your body. He held them out like a peace offering.

You just looked at what’s in his hands. “You... called me in for this?”

As you were about to take them, he pulled back his hand and opened the can first before placing both products on the glass coffee table in front of you. You roll your eyes.

He sat on the couch opposite you and leaned back, his hands going behind the back of his head. Casual. Composed. Eyes on you like he was studying your expression for microreactions. At first, you were hesitant. Your eyebrows furrowed, making that expression you had every time you’re curious about something. He knows what you were thinking about. How did he know about what you wanted, and why did he have them ready at his office? But then, you finally start drinking the tea. 

Your eyes, already half-lidded, began to soften further. Before taking another sip, you went ahead to dig into the chocolate bar. Oh, the mood right now was too cozy. The lavender atmosphere, the soft wool couch swallowing you whole, and you finally having your first meal in almost seven hours, no less, from the man in front of you. God, you just wanted to stay there forever.

“You looked like you were ready to go to the morgue,” he said. “Figured you’d need something to swallow before you head home.”

You chewed slowly, staring at him as your brain finally caught up with what was happening. “Woahhh... Team Leader Yoon Jeonghan,” you drawled, voice thick with playful suspicion. “How did you know I was craving this exact combo? Have you been stalking me?”

Jeonghan quirked a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said lazily. “If I were stalking you, I’d probably know you secretly take screenshots of food from that mukbang channel at midnight.”

You choked slightly on your tea, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“‘Saved Posts,” he said, smug. “Public account. Rookie mistake, seriously. Who taught you internet safety?”

You gasped, half-laughing, half-mortified. “You actually went through my saved posts?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t have to. Your notifications were on during that one meeting, and your screen lit up with your username. Curiosity got the better of me.”

You paused, your hand still gripping the chocolate bar. Your cheeks flushed, just slightly, the faintest pink blooming as his words sank in.

You clutched your forehead dramatically. “Unbelievable. I’m never showing my phone in public again.”

Jeonghan leaned forward then, elbows on his knees, gaze steady. “You interns have been running yourselves into the ground lately. Figured someone should give a damn.”

You looked at him, and for a second, you couldn’t say anything. The teasing was there, sure, but underneath it was... sincere.

You rolled your eyes, if only to hide how warm you felt. “You could’ve just sent an email like a normal person.”

He scoffed. “And miss the chance to see your tragic little face in person?”

“Wow. Thanks,” you said flatly, trying not to smile.

Jeonghan waited a full five seconds before glancing back at the door. Then, slowly, he sat back into his chair.

His gaze dropped to the half-crushed can on the table, the one you'd sipped from earlier. Faint, but still visible: a perfect smudge of maroon left on the aluminium rim. It wasn’t just a mark. It was the same shade you'd been wearing all night. The same shade you’d been wearing since you started working here. Rich. Creamy. Almost too bold for you.

His fingers reached for it. Brushed the edge.

The pigment clung to his skin. He turned his hand over, staring at the stain against the pad of his index finger. A color too soft to be dangerous, but too dark to be innocent.

He lifted his fingers to his mouth.

A pause.

Then, he touched his lips to them.

The warmth wasn’t the same. But it mimicked what could’ve been yours.

He exhaled through his nose, a quiet, bitter laugh.

He didn’t even like herbal tea and almond chocolate.

The hum of the vending machine was the only sound filling the small break room. You sat slouched on the bench, head resting against the cold wall, eyes closed. The coffee in your hands had gone lukewarm. Your shoes were kicked off, legs tucked beneath you like you were claiming this sad little corner as your territory.

Today, you finally finished all the projects you were assigned. Your fellow interns finally stopped cursing and hexing your seniors, and you finally have time to relax. Moreover, those same seniors got chewed out by Team Leader Yoon. “My final warning,” you remember how his voice was calm and calculating, making everything he said sound like a death threat instead of a “I’ll-send-you-to-HR” threat.

“You look like you got hit by a truck,” a familiar voice piped up.

You cracked one eye open to find your best friend, Jeonghan’s younger sister, leaning against the doorframe, sipping from her iced latte like she hadn’t just insulted you.

“Truck, bus, and a management-level bullet train,” you deadpanned, sighing dramatically as you took another sip of your coffee. “The seniors? Demonic. One of them made me sort three years of archived campaign decks. My soul left my body halfway through 2023.”

She winced. “Okay, yeah. That’s cruel and unusual. Even I don’t like those archives, and I barely do anything.”

You snorted.

She sauntered over and sat beside you, nudging your shoulder. “You’ve been looking real burnt-out lately. You okay?”

You shrugged. “It’s fine. Just new intern stuff. Paying my dues. Blood, sweat, tears, and barely-scheduled bathroom breaks. Besides, your lovely brother finally saved us.”

“Ew, don’t call him that.” She grimaced. “You need a break. Like, real one.”

You looked at her suspiciously. “Why do you sound like you’re about to propose something... stupid? Insane? What’s the right word….”

She smirked. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all… maybe I am.”

You squinted. “Don’t say team-building workshop. I’ll cry.”

“Worse.” Her grin widened. “Karaoke. Tonight.”

You groaned. “Nooo. My legs feel like overcooked noodles. I can’t stand, let alone scream-sing IU.”

“But it’s to celebrate! You finally survived intern hell. That deserves a round of somaek.”

You blinked. “Can’t we just do that without involving the whole department?”

“Nope. Everyone’s coming--well, everyone that matters. Especially you interns. And…” She paused for a beat, her voice dropping just slightly into a mischievous tone. “Oppa might come too.”

“No, he won’t. No one will. Why? Because this won’t happen.”

“Come on~” She flipped her hair dramatically. “I might go tell him it’s a little celebratory thing.”

You stared at her. “You do know that he’s busy, right?” 

She beamed. “Yeah, but he would make time. Maybe. As long as you’re there. Looking cute. And tired. And vulnerable.”

You almost choked on your coffee. “You’re evil.”

She beamed. “You love me.”

Jeonghan didn’t look up from his laptop when the door opened. “If this is about the budget sheet, tell them to stop using Comic Sans–”

“It’s not,” his sister sang-songed, plopping onto the guest chair across from his desk. “It’s about plans.”

“Sounds exhausting already.”

She leaned in, elbows on his desk. “Did you know we’re doing karaoke tonight?”

He raised a brow. “No.”

“Well, we are.”

“Sounds loud.”

“Mm-hmm.” She stretched the silence, letting it hang before she dropped the bait. “Guess who’s coming?”

His fingers paused mid-typing. “...”

“Yep. Poor girl’s been run ragged. You should’ve seen her, she looked like she was about to merge with the coffee machine. Thought it’d be nice for her to unwind.”

He didn’t reply right away, gaze still fixed on the screen, though nothing was being typed now.

His sister grinned. “Anyway. I told her you might come.”

This time, he looked at her.

“Just a heads up,” she added sweetly, before slipping out of the office.

Behind her, Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, his forearm rising to cover his eyes, as he slowly, very slowly smirked to himself. He let out a low chuckle, like he was plotting some evil Doofenshmirtz-level plan.

“This crazy bastard…” his sister just walked away as quickly as she could.

You were nestled in the corner of the private room, surrounded by your coworkers who were thriving in their tipsy chaos. The lights bounced off the walls, the mic was being tossed around like a volleyball, and someone was currently screaming their way through an old 2 PM hit.

You were smiling, even laughing occasionally, but your body still felt tired. Drained.

This probably wasn’t a good idea, but you were having fun. I guess you would have to prioritize your bodily needs tomorrow. The past few days had chewed you up and spit you out with a polite, overworked bow.

The door opened, and Jeonghan stepped in. Some of your coworkers did not expect him to come here, while the rest were too drunk to even get up from their seats. He was wearing a button-down shirt (too few buttons done up, you note) and sleeves rolled up like he just walked off a music video set.

You turned to your friend, who was screaming her lungs off. She made eye contact with you and winked. Yeah, no. This was her doing. 

You could see his eyes scanning the room until they stopped. At you. 

A faint smile ghosted across his lips. And then he walked in fully, sliding into an open seat at the end of the room, not next to you, but close enough to watch.

He didn’t even greet you directly.

You sipped your drink.

He sipped his.

But you could feel him there.

You had stepped out of the room to cool off. It was too warm. Too loud. Too much. It was like your skin couldn’t hold everything in anymore.

You were just beginning to breathe when you felt him.

Jeonghan leaned against the wall beside you like he belonged there. Like the hallway had been waiting for him.

You turned to see him, eyes closed, head tilted, cheek pressed lazily to his shoulder. His hair, beautifully disheveled, fanned out behind him, catching the soft light like silk. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, the few buttons still undone, skin glowing pale beneath the low light. His hair? 

You couldn’t tell if he was drunk or just reckless tonight. But his presence was magnetic, pulling everything in, including you.

“Team Leader Yoon… are you alright?” Your voice came out quiet, unsure, but your body already moved. You stepped in, closer, protective by habit and helplessness.

He didn’t answer at first. Just hummed low. His head dipped in a slow, deliberate motion.

“...Jeonghan?”

You watched the fall of his bangs. The way his lashes brushed the flush of his cheeks. His lips– plump, a little red, and parted just enough to tempt every reckless impulse in your brain.

Your hand lifted. You didn’t mean to. But it did. Hovering near his mouth.

You wondered:

Were they still wet from all the drinks? Or dry from the hallway air?

You didn’t find out.

Then, heat. Fingers wrapped around your wrist. Slow, firm.

You gasped.

He opened one eye, heavy-lidded, a little too knowing. Then, slowly, like he had all the time in the world, Jeonghan pulled you toward him. Not hard, instead, it was gentle, devastating. Until your bodies nearly touched.

You could feel it.

The heat. The scent.

Sandalwood. Lavender. And something unmistakably his.

And then, with the barest smirk at the corner of his lips, his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

Your breath hitched.

“Same color,” he murmured, voice low. “Your lips… the other night.”

You forgot how to blink.

His thumb lingered a second longer before sliding away, his grip still secure around your wrist. But now, it was his fingers that trailed gently along the skin there, mapping every inch like it was a confession.

And then,

he moved again.

You didn’t even register it until his fingers brushed the slope of your neck. Just enough to make your breath hitch and your spine freeze.

Then he found the necklace you wore.

His fingers traced the delicate chain along your neck, unbearably slow, like he already knew what it was doing to you. You swallowed, breath catching when he reached the pendant resting above your collarbone. It was heart-shaped. Of course it was. His thumb brushed over it once, twice, as if he was testing the rhythm beneath it.

You were certain. Utterly, humiliatingly certain that he could feel your heartbeat rising against the cage of your ribs like it wanted to leap into his palm.

He held onto it.

Lifted it slightly. As if weighing something.

“Still wearing this?” he said, almost like he was asking himself.

Then, he let it go gently. The charm dropped against your skin with a soft clink.

You didn’t get to exhale.

Because in the next second, his hand slid to the back of your neck. His fingers threading through your hair, palm warm and solid.

He pulled you closer.

Not rough. Not rushed.

Intentional.

Your body followed, helpless.

He leaned in. Past your cheek. Past your jaw.

And just as your breath trembled out, his lips brushed the side of your neck, and he whispered: “What do you think of me?”

Your knees nearly gave out.

You could feel every syllable burn against your skin. Every letter was a sin.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t look at him.

Because he was right there. So close. And you knew, if you turned your head, your lips would meet.

But then–

The door behind you rattled.

Voices. Laughter. The sound of someone scream-singing off-key to “Autumn Leaves” by BTS. The hallway light flickered briefly from the opened door.

Your blood turned cold. Your stomach dropped.

He kept his hand at your nape. Still holding. Still there.

Your pulse thundered. His breath ghosted your jaw.

He looked amused. Barely. Like this was all some twisted game, and only he knew the rules.

“Let go,” you whispered, though you didn’t even sound like you meant it.

He didn’t.

He just smiled against your skin.

THUD.

“Oh God!”

Yoon Jeonghan. Your Team Leader. Your best friend’s brother.

And now? Collapsed at your feet. Dragging you down with him.

“Okay, okay, I got it, you’re very strong–”

You struggled to keep Jeonghan upright as he leaned heavily against your shoulder, humming some half-forgotten ballad into your ear. His hair was falling into his eyes, lips slack in a dopey grin.

Across from you, his sister, your beloved best friend, was swaying slightly on her feet.

“Sooo…” she slurred. “Isn’t he heavy? He’s heavy, right? I told him not to mix soju and beer.”

“You also cheered him on,” you deadpanned, glancing at her with a little more concern. “You don’t look so good either–wait, did you drink from that mystery cocktail?”

“Shhhh,” she hushed you with one finger to your lips. “Shhhh. Listen. Focus. Mission. Jeonghan. Home.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna take him to your apartment, right?”

Your best friend blinked, confusion present on her drunken face.

Then she laughed. “Babe, I can’t even find my own feet.”

You turned your head slowly to where Jeonghan was now lightly beatboxing under his breath with his eyes closed. 

“Oh my god.”

Oh my god, indeed.

Somehow, by sheer divine intervention and one very confused taxi driver, you got Jeonghan into the backseat of a cab, while your best friend leaned dramatically against a lamp post, blinking slowly.

“Alright, I’ll ride with him,” she mumbled. “You go home.”

“Uh.” You hesitated. “I think I should go with you two, actually.”

“Noooo.” She waved a limp hand. “I’ll just… go to sleep.”

“What–no, you can’t sleep in a cab– wait, are you calling another one for yourself?”

She nodded very proudly, pressing her phone to her cheek like it was a teddy bear. “Like a pro.”

You sighed, pulling out your phone. “I’m calling someone else to–”

She called out your name in a long and slurred tone.

You turned, and your best friend was suddenly wide awake. Swaying, but possessed by purpose.

“I have a genius idea.”

“…not this again.”

“You take him home.”

“What?!”

“Genius,” she whispered proudly. “He trusts you.”

You stared at her, baffled. You shook your head and said: “I should be taking care of you, not your brother–”

“But I’ll be fiiine,” she grinned, now somehow sitting on the sidewalk. “I live around here. You’re going the same way, anywayyyy. You’re also the responsible one. He’ll be nice to you.”

From the cab, Jeonghan murmured something that sounded vaguely like, “You smell like flowers,” before slumping over dramatically.

You exhaled. And sighed. And almost cried a little.

“…I hate all of you.”

The drive was mostly quiet, save for the muffled sound of traffic and Jeonghan’s occasional humming, off-key, barely coherent, but somehow still hypnotic. His head was back on your shoulder again, like a magnet, a gravitational constant you had no power over.

Your heart hadn’t slowed down since the hallway.

You didn’t move. You didn’t even breathe too hard.

Then, the cab driver cleared his throat. Glanced at you two through the mirror. You, with your face red, with your boss leaning on your shoulders.

“So…” he said, voice light. “Are you two dating?”

You froze.

“I– what? N-No, we’re not–”

“Because you look good together,” the driver continued, oblivious and chuckling. “Like a couple in a drama, you know?”

You were about to melt into the seat and die when Jeonghan stirred beside you.

He blinked slowly. Then let out a soft chuckle.

And in a warm, slurred tone, he said–

“I agree with him… Are we?”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide.

“Jeonghan–!”

But he was smiling now, lopsided and sweet, his cheek still pressed to your shoulder like it was the most natural place in the world.

He turned his face slightly, lips grazing the fabric of your shirt.

“You’re soft,” he mumbled.

Your nervous system stopped completely

The cab driver laughed. “Ahah, young love.”

You slapped your hand over your face, covering every inch that exposed the flush of your cheeks. “I’m going to jump out of this car.”

“I’ll catch you,” Jeonghan murmured, barely audible now, already drifting again.

But his hand, warm and slow, was still holding your wrist. Thumb brushing lazily across your skin like he wasn’t done saying everything he wanted to say.

You didn’t speak for the rest of the ride.

But your heart did. Loudly. The whole time.

Tag list: @sumzysworld, @lixisoul99, @viciousdarlings, reiofsuns2001, @lily409, @armycarat2612, @cheolliesvt

(To everyone commenting/reacting to this story, thank u very much! I'll make sure to actually finish this for u guys 😭❤)

[ominis-g]

You have to move out of your dorm and Henry let's you stay in his guest room for the time being. After a few nights your bed stays empty because you found an even better place to sleep ...

This was a very good prompt. I plan to make a second part that is more... everything, but I feel like this is a good stopping point for the first part.

Notes: Narrator is a female, and it is implied to be before all the events of Richard's arrival. First person POV because it fits the vibes, but I can always change it. No use of narrator's name.

Summary: After some circumstances has Henry offer you his guest room for the interim, there is a snow storm incoming. No warnings, just a lot of fluff for this part.

Word count: 5 542

The main issue that I had with this place was not the frigid winters or the aloofness of some of its residents, but rather that it never seemed to change. The seasons would merge into each other so slowly that it was hard to pinpoint down precisely where and when they shifted, but I would be adjusting my wardrobe and habits along with the temperatures and until the winter break hit, it was the furthest thing from my mind. And upon return, what then? Heavy overcoats that cut off the view of everyone’s figures and forms and instead transformed the majority of the campus into some sort of shapeless blob until we went inside to the warmth. And then the cycle would begin again, slightly different schedules, different exams and essays, but it was the same.

And it was cold today, though the word hardly seemed sufficient. Vermont certainly had a way to cut through every piece of wool and cloth that I had layered on to stave off the biting wind. Classes were not set to begin for us for another couple of days, but here I was, shell-shocked after returning from home and its much warmer clime. My hands were still shaking as I poured myself a cup of coffee in the cafeteria, but there was not anyone around to notice. I went and sat by the window, despite its frost, because it was near enough to the radiator to offer some semblance of heat.

Hands wrapped around the heat, fingers tapping on the porcelain, I stared out of the window. I should have brought a book, or something to work on, but I had forgotten. It was still early, and the rest of the day laid before me. There was not much traffic, but there was enough people walking by to occupy my mind as I drank that cup, and then returned with a second. 

The tables were starting to fill, and so was the air with the sounds of the other students. No one greeted me, since I did not know any of them, and I did not care to. Surely my friends would be back today or the next, and we would spend the time out in the country or at the twins’ speaking all about our breaks and our adventures. Our communication had been through mostly calls when one of us had time, but for Henry, who preferred to write. My mother had found our correspondence for those two months endearing, but it was Henry. Most of his letters were filling me in on the entirety of the class’s misadventures, and the rest was complaining or contemplating something obscure.

I delayed returning to my dorm because I had that soft hope that I would see one of them go by the window, even Bunny, but there was no such luck this morn. I wrapped the scarf further and snugger around my neck and face to brave the chill once more. I made it to the stoop without incident, and was stomping the snow off of my boots when I heard a clamour from within. I stoop up on my tiptoes to see through the window, wondering if I should just make myself scarce, and just barely was able to get out of the way in time. Onto the ice, and slipping down into the snowy brush with sharp pains that made me hiss and grit my teeth, not aided by the slamming of the door. The wood wobbled violently on its hinges, and two large men were dragging out a third.

Their congruent yells were bouncing off of each other, but I was focused on disentangling myself from the brush and then wading awkwardly to the other side and back to the path to avoid all three. When I turned to return, I stopped in surprise. Bunny was there, looking disheveled and agitated and cursing at the retreating backs of his exilers.

“Bun?”

He looked over at me, then scoffed. “Did you see that–”

“What happened?”

I closed the space between us, quite a few paces, when I was sure that he was not about to lash out in his anger at me. 

“How was I supposed to know it was a girl’s dorm? She started screeching as soon as I turned the key and knob…” He trailed off, though his furied expression didn’t change. “Mixup in the office, or something.” His face only cleared when I began righting his coat, and he bent over obligingly to allow me to fix his hair, too. It was sticking up at odd angles from what was, no doubt, a very physical altercation. “Anyway, where am I supposed to go now?”

“Go back to the office, and tell them what happened,” I advised as he returned upright. “I am sure it was only a clerical error; just explain it coherently.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “You’re the most sensible of us, y’know?”

Hardly. 

I just smiled at him and brushed snow off of his shoulders. He gave me a cheeky wink and turned to walk towards the residential office. I watched him for a moment to be sure he was really going, considering following, before deciding against it and just returning to my room.

—----------------------------------------------

I spent the rest of the morning unpacking, since I had done so little the night before. I had gotten in late, and was simply thankful that someone had been in the office to give me back the key to my room. I had emptied it, of course, and now I was arranging my books on the shelves for something to occupy me. I was bent over my trunk for another armful when there was a knock on the door. Heavy-handed, not polite. I had a sinking feeling it was Bunny.

I answered it anyway. He pushed his way in past me, dragging a suitcase along with him. I frowned at this, but closed the door so no one else could see. “Did it not go well–”

“Hell no,” he complained. He dropped the suitcase heavily on the floor and began pacing through the small space, barely avoiding where I was still unpacking. I returned to the books, waiting for more. “They’re trying to sort it all out, all the other rooms are filled–”

“Have you tried Henry?”

He shook his head. “No answer, and his car’s not in the drive. When was he supposed to be back?”

“Last time he wrote, he said it would be about the same time as me, and I got back last night. Maybe he will come today. Francis? The twins?”

“Boston.” He sat heavily on my bed, and just watched me work for a few moments. “But you’ll not kick me out into the cold, right? I can stay here?”

“You know that I am not supposed to…” I trailed off, glancing over at him, and he really looked in that moment like a big, blond puppy. “You just have to be careful. I am sure one night breaking the coed rule will not hurt, and tomorrow everything will be fixed.” He grinned immediately. “But you sleep on the floor.”

The smile faltered, but then he shrugged. He laid down in my bed, boots hanging off the edge, and continued to watch me unpack. “I thought you’re neater.”

“I just started working.” 

Bunny found gum from the depths of his pockets and began chewing loudly. I tried to ignore him as I finished the books, and the silence otherwise was not even peaceful. My irritation finally got the best of me after arranging my desk, and decided I needed a break. 

I headed downstairs for the phone. I rang Henry first, and immediately. My fingers tapped impatiently on the wall as I listened to the rings, glancing up the stairs to be sure that Bunny was not about to catch me trying so desperately to be rid of him.

Finally, he answered. “Hello?”

“It’s me. When did you get back?”

“I haven’t even unpacked. I heard the phone from the door.” Blissful, perfect timing. “You can come by.”

“I have a different issue,” I answered quietly, glancing up at the stairs again. “Bunny.”

He lit a cigarette, the match’s sound distinctive even over the gravelly phone. “What did he do now?”

“There was some sort of mixup, and his dorm is nonexistent. He is currently squatting in mine.”

“I can’t have him here again.” I let out a sigh, hand from the wall to my forehead, eyes closing in abject horror at the prospect of spending any sort of time alone with Bunny. “What did the office say?”

“They are working on it, but…”

I did not need to continue. Henry caught it all and finished the thought. “I have the guest room. Grab some things, and you can stay there until it’s sorted.”

“Should I tell him?”

“Just say you’re staying elsewhere, to allow him privacy. I will see you in a few.”

We hung up, and I began the walk up to my room again with a sense of dread. It was not like Bunny was going to believe that. Maybe I could say I was going to opt for the hotel, so we would not get in trouble and get us both kicked out. He would believe that.

Bunny tried in a light way to offer to go to a hotel instead, but there was not any real heart behind it. I insisted that he not worry, and he just thanked me with a smile and got more comfortable on my bed. My clothes were still securely in their suitcase, maybe a little rummaged through that I tried to ignore, and placed on top a few books for classwork, and some supplies from my desk. I left Bunny the key, and he promised not to leave it unlocked and let me get burgled. It was something, at least.

The suitcase was heavy, but nothing I could not handle. Why were Classics books so massive? I huffed my way quickly down the stairs, eager to get through the door and away before Bunny could come up with some reason why I should stay in that tiny room with him.

Henry, bless him, was waiting. He was lounged against his car, smoking, still in his travelling clothes, but when he saw me he opened the trunk. I heaved the suitcase in, closed the trunk, and joined him in the warmth of the car. He offered me one of his Lucky Strikes, which I took and lit as he drove off. I recounted the entire morning’s events with our windows rolled down just enough to let out the smoke but not the heat, and though he glanced at me, he did not comment until I was finished.

“I know why he lives in the dorms, but why do you?”

“Convenience, mainly. I suppose I could rent somewhere, but if it is too far I would have to get a car, and that is a lot of extra steps for something so easily solved by living in the dorms.”

“You mentioned in a letter that your mother would prefer if you lived off-campus.” I frowned at him and his damned memory, letting out a steady cloud of smoke. He glanced at me, then shook his head with the hint of a smile. “Something about not wanting you to get mixed up in the party culture.”

“What she does not know will not hurt her.”

“So, you told her about the class.”

“Nothing specific. I spoke of you all as friends, though your letters did spark more inquiries.” He made an amused noise. “What?”

“Did she read any of them?”

“She does not know Latin. Of course, that just made her think of the whole correspondence as romantic. I had to correct her more than once, but after about a dozen times, I gave up.”

He was quiet. He pulled into the drive and shut off the car without a word, and I watched him get out with the air of a statue. I took the last pull from the cigarette and stepped to the snow as well, throwing the butt into the pile that someone had shoveled the snow from the drive into. I retrieved my suitcase from the trunk opened by Henry, but he was already at the door and unlocking it. I hurried to follow, knocking the snow off my boots hastily.

I had offended him. I set down the suitcase, unwinding my scarf and watching him flip through the waiting mail without expression. I hung up my overcoat in the closet, right beside the mail table. “Did you correct her for any particular reason?” He finally wondered.

“My mother is quite the romantic, and insists that I should be as well. She would have been insufferable if I had done any less. I was quite glad to return, to get out of there, actually.”

“There is something of romance in communicating through letters,” he mused, but he was still looking through the mail, and I was facing the closet, trying to get my scarf to hang right with my coat. “I took joy in it. Did you?”

“Yes.” He did not say anything more, so I followed up: “It really was just for my sanity. I did not need her dragging out her wedding albums or something.”

“That’s understandable.”

Henry abandoned the mail back to the table, and was beside me to hang up his coat as well. I could not think of anything else to say, because what was there to say? He did the task in silence and then he showed me to the guest room. When he left to go unpack himself, I checked the folding bed to be sure it was locked so I could make it up with the provided bedclothes in peace. I unpacked my few books and supplies, but left the rest in the suitcase.

I brought my literature book, a notebook, and pen with me when I ventured outwards again. I sat down in the kitchen, and that is where Henry found me. He had changed, and he set down his own work on the opposite side of the table before going to make some tea. It was mainly for me, though he poured himself a cup as well, and for quite a while we worked in silence.

A thick gust of wind broke us from the concentration some time after noon, and I frowned at the sound of the impending storm. He did not look up from his work, though I was considering the way the snow was blowing from its resting places out the window. “You’re safe here. Steady as a rock, this house.” His fountain pen rose from paper, and he joined me in looking at the weather. “We could do with some supplies, though. Would you mind running out?”

I did not mind. I needed the break anyway. He dictated to me a short list of what to be sure to get at the grocery while I did up my snow boots again. It did not take me long, despite all of the other people there at the store, and on the way home I turned on the car’s radio to find the weather report. Well, no wonder the store had been packed and the shelves half-empty. There was a snowstorm set to hit the following day, just in time for everyone to come back to Hampden.

Henry helped me in putting all of the supplies away, mostly food for us to make, and I had made sure to pick up snacks for myself. He inspected the package of cookies instead of putting them on the shelf inside the cabinet, where he had placed my mixed nuts and sugary cereal. “You actually eat these?”

“They are good,” I assured him, working on rearranging the fridge to hold the milk. “And if the power goes out, I will not want to bake.”

“I forgot you bake,” was all he replied, and went back to the task. “I haven’t heard you talk about baking since last year.”

“Since we were speaking about bakeries in Rome–”

“And the differences in the various Greek cities,” he agreed, leaning against the counter to light a cigarette. He placed the pack back onto the table, so I sat down to light one myself. “If you had access to a kitchen, would you bake while here at Hampden? I’m sure Charles would appreciate it.”

“I suppose so.” I watched him check the cabinet where I had put in fresh flour, baking soda, and sugar. Everything he had had from before the break was stale, or empty. “Bread, or sweets?”

“Perhaps a bit of both; we could try to recreate some breads that the ancients would have enjoyed.”

“We would have to go outside Hampden to find the flours and grains.”

This did not seem to bother him. He closed the cabinet and returned to standing as he had been, pondering the end of his cigarette. “True. It would be a worthy endeavour.”

“Are you offering your kitchen for my use?”

He focused instead on taking in a long drag. He had let it out before he said simply, “yes.”

I smiled, but I do not think he noticed. He was too engrossed in how absolutely fascinating his dwindling cigarette was. “What do you want for supper?”

The unspoken tension in the air loosened as we made a very simple meal of roast chicken and vegetables together. Neither of us were skilled cooks, but once he had given his opinion and the bird was in the oven, Henry returned to his work. I pondered the empty counters, the time remaining, and then made us a small batch of biscuits to go along with it. His smile returned when he smelled them; I doubt he even clocked that I was making them before that, or maybe he did and had only been looking when my back was to him.

Henry lit a few candles as the sky darkened, but even as we ate he seemed utterly unbothered; I, on the other hand, was constantly glancing out the window to judge the intensity. It was not terrible to be trapped inside of this apartment with him, but being trapped anywhere did not appeal to me, and especially not the rigid frigidity of snow. Vermont.

We started drinking after supper, and he and I put away our work. We sat on his sofa instead, him swirling his glass of whiskey as he read aloud to me in his flowing Greek any passage that caught his fancy. I played solitaire on the table as I listened, the flicker of the candlelight and the rattle of the radiators offering a very welcome ambiance that almost allowed me to forget the blizzard’s noises outside. 

—-------------------------------------------------

Even with the liquor in me, the bed was still uncomfortable. I knew it was far more preferable than listening to Bunny’s snoring and bothering that was sure to have come had I stayed, but in the depths of sleeplessness, I could only think about how much it was uncomfortable. When we had said good night to each other, Henry had offered in a polite way to switch beds, but I had brushed off the gesture as not necessary. Besides, he needed the better bed.

I was up early, but of course Henry was awake before me. He had made coffee, so I poured myself a cup and went to find him. He was sitting in his room with the door open, working– as usual. I paused there at the threshold with the storm’s sounds drowning out everything else, watching him at his desk. His chair was slightly inclined to the door, like he had expected me to find him like that, but he was bent over some large book and did not even look up. I waited, sipping at my coffee, until he finished whatever he was reading before I knocked on the open door softly.

“Come in,” he invited, and so I did. I sat down in his armchair, and my presence seemed to remind him of his coffee cup. He sat back to nurse it, eyes moving over the splay of papers on his desk before his attention turned to me. “How did you sleep?”

“I think the storm kept me up.” He nodded knowingly. “What of you?”

“Well enough. It is good to be back in my own bed.” He paused with the cup raised up as if to take a drink. “Which I’m sure you’ll be soon enough.”

“I will make sure to wash the sheets.” He smiled, and did finally take a sip of his coffee. My fingers tapped at the porcelain softly. “What if they are unable to figure it out?”

“Then you’ll stay here. We can go get the rest of your things.” It was stated matter-of-factly, as if the answer had been obvious. 

“I do not wish to impose on you–”

“I don’t mind your company.”

I hid the unease behind my mug. I could not pinpoint it, not exactly– was it the fear of Bunny staying for the term in my dorm, or the fear of him not? Was it rather the prospect of seeing Henry daily– more than I already did– and him maybe growing irritated by my presence? “I have never had a roommate.”

“You only have to be more agreeable than Bunny, and I would like to think I am as well.”

“It was a very pleasant day yesterday.”

“It was; relaxing, even, which is just what we needed before classes begin.”

He was not relenting, or maybe I was just too inexperienced at skirting around difficult questions. “Are you not worried you will tire of me?”

His brow rose, and with his hair slightly mussed from the early hour, it threw his scar into sharp relief. “No.”

“At all?”

“This is all and entirely hypothetical, but if we follow the thought through: no, I do not see myself growing tired of you. Disagreements, annoyances, on both of our parts, but that’s normal. We both have schedules beyond the Greek class, and the only difference would be seeing each other like this, before we retire, and for more meals than usual. That’s hardly an unseemly amount of difference.” He rose to find his cigarettes, and I considered him, his words, and his craving for nicotine. We were both quiet until he was shaking out the match. “The only conflict I could see arising is if you took some beau.”

I blinked slowly at the words, because they were not what I was expecting, especially from him. We had never spoken about it before, whether by design or by happenstance, I was not sure. “Why?”

“Coming home at all hours– or not at all– and I would have to meet the poor fellow, wouldn’t I? Then there’d be another person in the house with us, and when our friends come over, it’s already too many.” He leaned over to knock off some ash in his over-filled ashtray. “Unless you already have one. Back home, perhaps?”

“No; I am sure it would make my mother very happy, but no. You and Julian and everyone have completely monopolised my time. Well– and classes, of course. Family obligations…” I trailed off, because he was smiling. “Well then– you, same question.”

Henry actually laughed, waving away the question along with smoke in the air. “No, no.” I sighed over my coffee. “Who would it be? Surely no one else but our group could keep my interest, or for long. I’m too busy to look elsewhere.” He said it casually, but my eyes narrowed at his wording. He was focused on his cigarette again, though still smiling. “Say, how did it look outside?”

“Are you changing the subject?”

He ignored me, carrying his mug and cigarette with him to go into the main room. I had to force my face to clear before I joined him, draining the last of my coffee. He was standing at the window, looking out at the snow that was moving blurringly fast, almost surreal with the orange glow from the street lamps. “It seems a perfect day for translations.”

“Until the heat goes out.”

“Good thing that you’re here, then.” I wrapped both of my hands around the mug, trying very hard not to think about it. “Why don’t you get your work and we can relax in my room? It’ll be more comfortable than the kitchen.”

I pulled on a sweater as well, and sat there in his armchair eating a bowl of cereal noisily. I wanted to see if he would admit that I would annoy him, but he genuinely did not seem to mind and was utterly focused on his work. I refilled both of our coffees when I was done, and he murmured a thanks as I replaced it back onto his desk. I had my book for a literature class to read, so I lounged in the chair with a candle on the table beside it to slog through.

The power went out some time around noon, which I only discovered when I went to get something for lunch. I made two sandwiches and poured myself a glass of milk, wondering how long the power would be out, and worried it would spoil. I set his plate down onto his desk, and he started as if from a trance. He sat back to rub at his eye under his glasses, and I retreated to my chair.

“Power is out.”

“Inevitable,” he returned, examining the sandwich briefly before taking a bite. He finished the whole thing without speaking; he had not eaten breakfast. “As long as the gas stays on, we should have heat.”

We returned to our silent work. I left and came back to his room a few times, to get different books, to get a notebook, but he did not comment. I stopped at the window each time, but the house besides his room was completely dark; I could no longer see the street lamps, or any semblance of life outside of his walls. 

Henry had found I had moved to the floor to spread out and take notes for an essay over his rug when he finally rose. He must have gotten up more than that, simply to relieve himself, but this time was different. His head tilted as he looked over my work. “Comfortable?”

“Your carpet makes a wonderful desk, as big as I need.”

“You’re more than welcome to get your own desk.” I turned over to my back, eyes up his form with a smile for him. “Hypothetically, of course.” It was a very good view. He was still dressed as Henry, but he wore a sweater as we had no where to be or anyone else to see today. His hands slid into the pockets of his trousers, perhaps to shift them so I could see nothing from that angle but for the fold of the cloth. 

“Then how would we work together?”

“True,” he conceded, but he still looked thoughtful. His head turned, considering his desk, and I got a new angle for his features, the hair shadowing his eye, everything. “Maybe a large table, or two desks pushed up together, so we could work face-to-face.”

“Or I could continue to lay siege to your carpet.” He smiled. “Batter your desk’s defences–”

“Watch out for the hot wax,” he broke in. “Terrible for your troops, and my men are far from sitting ducks.”

I laughed lightly, and he met my smile. He then offered me his hands, and though I did hesitate, I was always going to take them. I sat up enough so my hands could meet his, slide into the warmth, and he stepped to the side as he helped me up. What could I say? There was a moment with our fingers still on each others’ wrists and palms, and us standing closer than I think we had ever stood before. I could feel his warmth, not just through the touch but through the mite space between us, could smell the ink, the coffee, the smoke and all the different scents from the house that made it so distinctly Henry.

I looked up at him in that brief interlude, and our gaze held together for the duration. My lips parted, raking my brain for something to say– did I even want to say anything? I took in a breath.

“Let’s take a break,” he said, not unkindly. His hands slid back, and so I withdrew mine as well, our fingertips lingering for a further second before he looked away, and then went to find his Lucky Strikes. I felt flush, my sweater suddenly sweltering, so I welcomed the walk out of his warm little room and into the main room. He did not bother to light any candles, using the cherry of his cigarette to guide him if he needed it, and then mine as well. 

Henry made a displeased noise when he stopped at the window, hand up to see if he could wipe away the obstruction, but no: that was snow plastered onto the windows and turning to ice. Despite the radiators rattling eerily, it was definitely colder out here than in the room we had been occupying, proof of just how cold and dreary it was outside of those walls.

“We’ve been keeping my room warm,” he noted, cigarette to his lips and squinting through the smoke.

“I might stay the entire night in there,” I returned in a light tone. He looked to me through the smoke, perhaps trying to determine if I was jesting or not. “I would not wish either of us to freeze to death.”

“And who knows if the heat will remain throughout the night,” he agreed in the same kind of tone, so I was the one questioning the meaning. “Just another reason why– hypothetically– you’d be the ideal roommate.”

“Is it still hypothetical?” He smiled around his cigarette, and for a moment we just smoked in silence. “Even if it is, I could not spend the entire term on that foldout bed.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Still, you should have your own space, even if you shared mine on frigid nights such as this one.” He turned from the dark window for the couch, sitting down upon it and finally lighting a candle. He poured us each a drink, and he handed it to me as I joined him. “Of course, if you wished, you could get a bed of your own choosing, should you not want to share mine nightly.”

“Do you snore?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?” 

I shook my head. “Just while ill.”

“I think that’s everyone,” he mused, relaxing beside me with the ashtray between us. “I don’t blame you, by the way. Even if it wasn’t coed, I would not want to be stuck in such a small space with Bunny for an undetermined amount of time, and he does snore.”

“I do not mind him usually,” I replied, snuffing out my cigarette so I could focus on that glass of whiskey. “But the entire thing made me nervous. He is not the quietest person, not to mention how it would look when we were inevitably found out, even with him sleeping on the floor–”

“He would have guilted you into giving up your bed, or sharing–”

“Precisely, hence the anxiety.”

He was quiet as he considered that, and our previous words. “And I don’t make you anxious in that way?”

“No, and if you did, I could simply return to my own bed. I did not have anywhere to go with him there.” He made a curious noise into his glass. “And, you and I, we have a different… relationship.”

“We do.” It was such a short and simple statement that I waited for more. Anything more, really. He had finished his drink before it came. “Mutual respect, and you don’t impose yourself anywhere.”

“I try not to.”

“And if I had denied you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He set down his glass to pour himself another finger, and then two. He offered the bottle to me, so I held out the glass so he could refill mine as well. “Hypothetically or not, I’m not doing that.” The bottle was down, and I still without words. He returned to relax beside me, swirling the whiskey around thoughtfully, perhaps waiting for me to say something. 

“Thank you,” I finally managed. It made him smile. “But I also do not want things to be awkward if–”

“We’re both adults here, and we are friends. Quid enim mali accidere potest?”

“Sic transit gloria mundi.” He shook his head, holding back laughter before it was out in a chuckle into his glass. “I meant more that we will endure as friends even if anything romantic does not. No need to imply the end of the world as we know it.”

I shrugged and took a long drink. “I could not bear it.”

“Then let us be sure that we endure.”

A/N: Any glaring errors, please let me know!

[traveler-at-heart]

Speak or die?

Summary: You have a crush on your poetry professor.

Professor Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request by @jujuu23 :) Hope you like it

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

            Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Professor Romanoff closes the book, the classroom silent as she walks to the front. Her raspy voice had a way of enchanting people, and it almost felt like she had cast a spell on everyone.

“Thoughts?” she asks, adjusting her glasses. Her beautiful features are framed by a couple of strands of fiery hair, the rest of it tied in a messy bun.

A couple of people lean back on their seats, nervous about being called to participate.

“What a weirdo” Barnes says, and some of your classmates laugh.

“Thank you, for that very insightful analysis, Mr. Barnes. Any other thoughts you’d like to share with the class?”

Before he can speak again and say something even more stupid, you jump in.

“It’s about madness, caused by grief. About his beloved, who he’ll never forget but is gone. It’s the same theme in Annabel Lee and Lenore. Though I think Annabel Lee is a lot less haunting… there’s a certain serene beauty to it.”

“Very good, Miss Y/L/N. And of course, we have the references to Pallas Athena. Not uncommon for Allan Poe to mention Greek mythology. Your next assignment will be to find and discuss examples of mythology and classical literature within his work”

As everyone leaves the room, you walk next to the professor’s desk.

“I’ve enjoyed your essay. Well, both of them” she says.

“Both?” you stop, looking confused.

“It’s very obvious your boyfriend is not writing his papers” she tries to keep her composure, but finds it irritating that someone as bright as you is with Barnes of all people.

“Oh, Bucky? Yeah, I might have helped him a bit… not my boyfriend, though”

You think it’s best to leave out the fact he enrolled in this class to meet pretty girls and act like he knows about poetry.

“Well, he should still do his own homework” Natasha says, this time with a kinder tone. “And nice work today”

“Thank you” you nod, smiling as you leave the classroom. 

You hope Professor Romanoff didn’t notice the way you were blushing at her praise. 

—

Natasha glances at her cozy living room one last time. It’s a crisp autumn night, and she could still cancel her plans and stay home with a good book and a glass of wine.

But she’d never hear the end of it, would she?

The woman takes a cab to the gallery downtown, hoping the evening ends early and she can at least read a chapter or two of her novel before bed.

As she enters the crowded space, Natasha feels the need to turn around and leave. Carol’s voice stops her.

“Fancy meeting you here”

“Yelena made me do it” the redhead explains, standing next to her colleague and friend.

“Well, she’s quite the artist. You should be proud of your sister” Carol says, looking around the room until she finds the younger woman. Natasha nods her thanks and walks to her sister, smiling.

“You made it!” Yelena, who was explainig her sculpture to a man, stops mid sentence and hugs Natasha. “I thought you’d find a way to stay home and avoid being out”

“I promised I’d be here. Go. I’ll have a look around” Natasha says when another woman walks up to Yelena.

“Try the appetizers, they’re really good!” Yelena says before going up to meet a group of art dealers.

It’s a big night for the Art Department. They have been planning this exhibit for months now. Plenty of critics and art dealers would stop by, hoping to find the next big name.

Natasha walks around, eyeing the paintings and sculptures in the room. Distracted by a very abstract work, she fails to notice another person walking behind her until her back collides with a shoulder.

“Sorry” she turns, surprised at meeting your eyes and friendly smile.

“Hi, Professor Romanoff” you greet. “How are you liking the exhibit?” 

“It’s good. What are you doing here?”

“College paper business. And to support my roommate, Wanda” you point at a couple of paintings, with very dark themes and distorted faces. “She’s uh… going through her misunderstood artist phase” 

“Well, she’s certainly committed to it” Natasha says, looking at the girl who must be Wanda, dark hair and smokey eyes giving her a grunge look.

“She’s a sweetheart” you promise, knowing that’s only one side of her. You’ve seen her cry over The Dick Van Dyke show, for heaven’s sake. Though you promised you’d never tell anyone. “Want to be on the record for me?”

“How so?”

“Just tell me what you think of the exhibit. Or the department in general” you shrug your shoulders. “It’s good that other faculty members are here”

“Well, I’ve known Carol for years, back when we were both students. She’s very committed to her work and advancing the curriculum, so it’s great to see an amazing selection tonight. My sister seems to think a great deal of the success is due to Danvers”

“Your sister?”

“Yelena Belova” Natasha clarifies. At hearing that name, you blush and she immediately assumes that something happened between you two. 

The reality is, you’ve spoken about how much you love your poetry professor in front of Yelena on more than one occasion. Now you understand why she laughed so hard when you said Natasha was Aphrodite reincarnate.

That little shit.

“Yeah, I know Yel. Wanda and her hang at the dorm, I mean, we all do” you trip over your words, picking up a glass of red wine to ease your nerves.

“You sure you can handle that?” Natasha asks, appreciating the way your cheeks blush at the taste of the alcohol.

“It’s fine” you lick your lips, missing the way Natasha follows the movement with her eyes.

“Well, it’s nice to know Yelena has someone with common sense to keep her grounded” Natasha says and inspite of your internal struggle, you smile.

In that moment, Carol clinks her glass gently, getting everyone’s attention. As she speaks, you try to listen to her words -the toast should be mentioned in the article- but your mind is focused on Natasha’s parfum, and the warmth of her body as she stands next to you. Once Danvers is done, everyone claps and you take a breath, thinking it might be a good idea to get some fresh air.

“Sestra, there you are” Yelena walks up to you two, a knowing smirk at your affected state. “I’d introduce you but I believe you already know each other”

“Yeah” you smile, looking anywhere but Natasha. “I’ll leave you to it, gotta talk to a couple more people. Enjoy your evening”

Yelena doesn’t move, so you’re forced to walk very close to Natasha, and the moment your eyes meet you almost forget how to breathe.

The redhead doesn’t miss the way your pupils are blown or the not so subtle way in which you glance at her lips.

She wants to reach out and grab your wrist, turn you around and devour your lips in a messy kiss. Instead, she sees you walk towards your friend.

“See? Aren’t you glad I made you come out of your cave?”

Apparently, your crush wasn’t one sided after all. 

—

The school paper. Natasha barely paid attention to it, even when it was delivered every Monday to her office, same as every faculty member at Lang University. 

This time, she is eager to open it and read your article. There it is, your name and a very long piece about the exhibit. Your prose is exquisite, and you didn’t just deliver an event summary; it’s a deep dive into the department, budget cuts and how students and professors are investing their own resources to keep the course alive.

Right under the dean’s nose. Natasha has to smile; it’s true that Howard Stark was more inclined to favor the Science department and a number of protests had gone unanswered on his side. Most of them came from tenured professors, as part time teachers and students were concerned with some sort of retaliation.

Not you, though.

Natasha is so focused on the article that she misses the knock on her door until Fury comes in.

“Romanoff” he greets. “Picking up on some light reading?”

“Something very entertaining” she turns the pages to show your article and he chuckles.

“She’s got balls” he recognises. “Heard she was talking about it with some art dealers who donate to the university. Apparently Stark is listening now”

“I’m happy to hear that”

“That’s not why I’m here, though” Fury sits down, crossing his legs. “The Foster Grant”

“What about it?” Natasha says, playing dumb. She hates to be the center of attention. “I know I got it, it’s no big deal”

“It is to the department. We don’t want to be the next on the list of budget cuts”

“Maybe we’ll just have to ask Y/N to write an article for us” she jokes, but Fury just smirks knowingly.

“Great idea! Let’s have her write something about your work and the research you’ve been doing” he slaps his knee, standing up. 

“What?”

“Well, don’t look at me like that, it was your idea, Romanoff. Better be this week so it’s on next Monday’s edition” he winks, leaving her office whistling.

As usual, Natasha is blindsided by her boss. How on Earth will she manage a conversation alone with you?

Still, Fury leaves no room for argument, and at the end of Tuesday’s class, you approach her desk.

“I was told you had an assignment for me” you say, biting your lip nervously.

“Yes, that’s right. Something about a research grant, it’s really not a big deal. Sorry that Fury put you up to it” she dismisses the thing like it’s a nuissance.

“I don’t mind at all. Just wanted to check if… when do you want to meet. And where. It would be better around Thursday so I can come prepared with questions and then write everything over the weekend. But I’ll adjust to your schedule” 

“Thursday is fine by me” Natasha nods. “My office? Last class is at 5, so maybe 6”

“Yeah, sounds good” you nod, blushing. “See you then, professor”

How will you survive this?

—

Thursday comes faster than you’d like, and you’re inspecting your wardrobe as if you’re going on a first date. 

Everythig’s too ugly. Why do you have such ugly clothes? 

Ugh, I should just cancel. 

In the end, you opt for a preppy look, with a black skirt and thights, choosing a black and white stripped sweater for the cold weather.

You run into Yelena and Wanda in the living room.

“Where are you going so fancy?” the blonde says, whistling and forcing you to twirl so she can have a 360 of your outfit. “You’re going on a date, aren’t you?”

Wanda, who actually knows about your appointment, covers her mouth to keep from laughing and you glare at her.

“Don’t”

“What? Is it someone I know?” Yelena looks between the two of you.

“Yes. It’s your sister” Wanda finally cracks. 

“It’s not a date!” you rush to say when Yelena turns to look at you. “I’m writing an article about her research”

“Mmm, right” she nods, not believing you. “She asked about you the other day, you know?”

“She did? I mean, what did she want to know?” you try to pretend it’s no big deal.

“She asked if we hooked up. I told her you’re not my type”

“Oh, please. I’m everyone’s type” you huff, picking up your bag before you run late. You still want to stop by the cafeteria.

“You’re certainly Natasha’s” Yelena mumbles, but you miss it. “Good luck on your non date with my sister”

“Not a date… although, what’s her coffee order?” 

“I’ll tell you if you admit it’s a date”

By the time you finally get Yelena to answer, you’re ten minutes late, walking around campus with two coffees and cookies. Knocking with your elbow, you hear a soft come in and figure out how to open the door. 

Juggling everything, you walk into Natasha’s office.

“Let me help you” the woman says, standing up and rushing to your side. You hand over the cup with her name. “For me?”

“Yes”

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I should be the one with a drink to offer. How did you know?” she licks her lips, appreciating the sweet flavor of the caramel macchiato. Her glasses fog from the warmth of the drink and you have to resist the urge to kiss her.

“I asked Yelena” you admit. “Glad to know she wasn’t pranking me” 

“I do have a sweet tooth”

“No worries, I won’t write anything about it” you take a notepad and your phone to record. “May I?”

“Please” Natasha settles behind her desk, appreciating that cute little frown that always appears when you’re focused. You go over your notes for a minute and then nod, ready to begin.

The hour goes by quickly, and Natasha feels proud when she notices you’ve stopped taking notes, genuinely interested and asking about everything she’s been researching for the past year and a half.

“Oh, it’s getting late. I’m so sorry for keeping you here” you apologize, looking at the time. 

“That’s ok, I’m free for the rest of the evening. I cleared my schedule just for you”

The words make your heart flutter. Of course she doesn’t mean anything by it, but how you wished she did.

“So, do you have time for a couple more questions?”

“Sure” 

For you, she has all the time in the world. Natasha could spend all night watching you put that lose strand of hair behind your ear, while you write down your thoughts. 

It’s dangerously endearing.

“I’d like to know… your favorite poem” you ask, more for yourself than for the article.

Natasha takes a deep breath, standing up and walking around her desk. She speaks as she approaches you, in that soft, tender tone that always makes your heart skip a beat.

“I loved you; even now I may confess,

Some embers of my love their fire retain;

But do not let it cause you more distress,

I do not want to sadden you again.

Hopeless and tongue-tied, yet I loved you dearly

With pangs the jealous and the timid know;

So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely,

I pray God grant another love you so”

Natasha looks into your eyes as she sits on the edge of the desk, mere inches away from you. 

In truth, you had expected her to answer with the poem’s title, not recite it to you so passionately.

“Pushkin” you sigh, looking at your hands.

“Very good” she praises, which makes you blush even harder. “It sounds better in Russian, though”

“I can imagine” you say, torn between wanting to hear it or not. You might lose your last sliver of self control if she speaks her native language.

“Is there anything else you need from me?”

You need to kiss her, discover how her lips feel against yours. Hold her hand, guide her up your skirt…

“Yes. I… mean, no, I have everything I need, professor” you snap out of your thoughts, looking flustered. “Thank you so much for making the time to speak to me”

“I always have time for my best student” she says, standing up and walking you to the door. “I’m looking forward to reading your article”

“I’ll try to live up to the expectations”

“I’m sure you will” she says gently, leaning against the threshold of the door. You look at her lips one last time before stepping back, wishing the evening could be prolonged.

Natasha watches you walk away, already missing your presence.

—

You spend the weekend reliving the interview. Thank God you kept recording when Natasha recited Pushkin, because now you have it for posterity.

The article is done, has been since you got back to your dorm. The words flowed effortlessly as you remembered everything Natasha said, and so you spent all night writing and correcting it until it was perfect. Even your editor was impressed when you sent it over.

Now, all that’s left is you, the recording and the view from your window. You listen to Natasha over and over again, hoping her presence migh somehow slip into your subconscious and then, she’ll be in your dreams as well.

As if you had summoned her, Natasha appears outside your window, walking with Yelena. As her sister walks into your building to meet with Wanda, Natasha looks up, waving at you. You remove your headphones, blushing at the fact that you were just listening to her speak on the recording.

“How’s the article coming along?”

“Signed, sealed, delivered” you smile. “I do hope you’ll like it”

“It will be the first thing I read tomorrow” she promises, saying goodbye. This time, you don’t bother to hide the fact that you’re staring as she leaves, and a little part of you feels like Juliet, watching Romeo walk away.

Forbidden love.

No, not forbidden. Unrequited.

With a sigh, you walk away and join your friends, thinking it’s better to distract yourself now that you remember Natasha Professor Romanoff is out of your reach.

Still, you can only fall asleep as you listen to her reciting that poem over and over again. And when you wake up, the resolve to see her again overcomes every fiber of your being. 

So you walk up to her office, knowing very well she’s there at break of dawn.

“Y/N” she says, looking at the paper in your hands. “Come in”

“I thought you’d like to read it. But maybe you’re busy. And you won’t like it or it’s not a big deal to you” you rant, handing it over and turning to leave. “Never mind”

“Stay” is all she says, hand reaching for your wrist. Your heart skips a beat at the contact and you nod, trying to ease your nerves. 

Natasha sits on her small sofa to read the article, and you’re too anxious so you walk around her office, examining the bookshelves. As you approach her desk, you focus on an open book, some notes scribbled along the margins.

“I love it” Natasha says, standing right behind you. You jump, so absorbed by the book that you didn’t hear her stand up and come close to you. She’s now reading over your shoulder. “It’s the Heptameron, by Marguerite de Navarre. I was working on a translation from the German edition”

You can now see the sheet of paper next to the page, Natasha’s writing looking rushed as if she fears the words will be taken by the wind. With a shaky voice, you break the sudden silence in the room, reading the story.

“A handsome young knight is madly in love with a princess

And she too is in love with him

Though she seems not to be entirely aware of it

Despite the friendship that blossoms between them or

Perhaps because of that very friendship

The young knight finds himself

So humbled and speechless

That he's totally unable to bring up the subject of his love

Till one day he asks the princess point blank

Is it better to speak or to die?”

“I found myself thinking a lot about unrequited love this weekend. And so I remembered this little thing” she says in a low voice. “What do you think is better? Speak or die?”

“I think that depends, Professor” you sigh, feeling her hand against your lower back.

“Depends… on what?” she whispers against your ear, making you shiver. “Should I speak about all the times I think of you, of how endearing and wonderful and intriguing you are to me?”

You turn around, cornered against her desk. Natasha’s hands traces a path down your arm, and takes your hand, lifting it to her lips. Your eyes follow the movement, and a sigh leaves your lips at the soft kiss she places on the back of your hand.

“Should I speak about how I wonder what it would be like to kiss you, taste you, mark you, until you’re chanting my name like a prayer?”

This time, her hand travels to your lips, pupils dilating as you allow her to invade your mouth with her finger, sucking gently until she retrieves it, pulling you by the waist.

“Should I speak, then? Or shall we keep pretending neither one of us wants this?” she whispers against your lips. You close your eyes, taking a breath to steady your heart. Her touch, her words, is all too much and you’re afraid it’s all a perfect dream, and at any moment you’ll wake up, alone and desperate for her.

“Please…” you say, leaning forward and capturing her lips in a messy, frantic kiss. Dream or reality, you’ll take Natasha in whatever way you can.

Natasha craddles your face in her hands, spreading your legs apart with her knee. You whine incoherently at her surprising strenght, your hands balled up in fists around the fabric of her pristine shirt. 

“You’re so perfect” she sighs against your lips. “So beautiful”

“Natasha” you plead, wanting to feel her against you, closer, harder. More, more, more until you’re on the brink of destruction and she’s all that exists.

“I want you. Do you want me?” she asks, and you catch the uncertainty in her tone.

“Of course I do” 

If only she could feel how wet you are, all because of her touch.

But there’s a knock on the door, and you both look at the spot, alarmed. Natasha squeezes your hand to reassure you.

“Yes?”

“Just delivering the paper, Professor”

“Leave it outside, I’ll pick it up in a minute. Thank you”

You take a moment to breathe and fix your hair, aware that your lips are swollen from all the kissing.

You kissed your professor. Natasha Romanoff kissed you.

“Are you ok?” she asks, worried about your sudden silence.

“Just wondering if I’m about to wake up from a beautiful dream” you admit, and she smiles.

“Do you dream of me?” she teases, her hand reaching for yours.

“Only when I’m awake”

Natasha smiles, kissing your fingers.

“Would you like to have dinner with me? My place. This Friday”

“Yes. I’d love to”

There’s another knock on the door, but Fury doesn’t wait for Natasha to answer. You jump away from the woman, unsure if this could get her into trouble.

Luckily, Fury is busy inspecting the paper that was dropped outside of Natasha’s office and he doesn’t pick up on anything as he looks up.

“Miss Y/L/N. You wrote an amazing article. Brilliant”

“Thank you, Doctor Fury” you say. “I should head out, my Sociology class is starting soon”

Natasha smiles at you, hoping you understand how much she wishes you could carry on.

But the promise of more lingers in her eyes and so, as you take one last look at her, you return her smile.

“I’m happy the knight spoke, Professor. See you in class” 

“See you in class, Miss Y/L/N”

[runes-fandom-dump]

Ok, everyone's been doing this lately, so I also need myself one of those.

Haven't been able to start doing anything for way too long now. I AM planning on starting going through my to do list now on the weekends, but 3 hours in my day I haven't been very successful about it... So some extra motivation would be extremely helpful right now.

Ok, let's do this:

10 notes I'll do my Finnish Duolingo for today (5 lessons)

20 notes I'll start doing some stupid music assignment that'll take 20 min max what even is the point of music assignments?!

40 notes I'll start the other a bit bigger and less stupid music assignment I still don't get the point of music assignments

70 notes I'll write a review of a random piece of media (most likely GO, anybody surprised?) for English class

100 notes I'll clean my room

200 notes I'll complete my part of the Economics presentation (due on Monday)

400 notes I'll start writing my Economics essay (also due on Monday)

700 notes I'll go ahead and learn Finnish for 2-3 hours cos I really need to and I haven't been doing it for a month already so every time I have the online lesson I have no idea what those guys are talking about

950 notes I'll go for a walk (and may or may not buy myself some chocolate)))

1000 notes I'll go to sleep early (like 22:00 early)

All tasks before the cut are all more or less due on Monday

1200 notes I'll learn some Maths I've been putting off for way too long (it's not school work but still. I'm getting dumb without it)

1500 notes I'll start researching for universities for my future studies

1900 notes Do a presentation about the them for sharing in class (why do we have to do this?!)

2000 notes I'll start finally doing my research practice essay task (first part of which was due a month ago😭) (I did confess to the teacher tho, and she said it's not a big deal now, because it's not even graded, but it is for my own good because next year it will be very much graded)

5000 notes and I'll read the book we have to read for the exam and start getting ready to tell the teacher something coherent for 10 min straight on the exam day (I don't think I'll be physically able to do it, I'll start asphyxiating on the second minute of the speech (not that I have breathing problems, but the social anxiety does things to me))

Idk is that the appropriate amount of notes for each task?....

[distantdarlings]

DELICACIES // r. black

RATING: PG-13 / 1.5K WORDS

Regulus Black x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After one of the most exhausting weeks of your school career, Regulus Black makes it his goal to improve your money.

+ WARNINGS - Language, kissing, not much else, not proof-read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing)

Roses - The Chainsmokers, ROZES

- - -

By the time your last class of the day let out and you’d managed to find yourself a seat on the lawn, you were nearing your breaking point.

If it wasn’t for today being the end of the week, you thought you might explode. Just the thought of having to go through another day of class had you reeling.

Between the four essays, three projects, and seven rolls of parchment due today, you were nearly ready just to collapse and never wake up.

Even now, as your body lay against the cool grass just before the Black Lake, your body seemed to only allow itself to relax half of the way. Usually, laying your head on your school bag and feeling the breeze on your face whilst occasionally catching a glimpse of a mermaid's tail now and then, brought you down back to earth just long enough for you to deal with another week of classes.

But, this time, it seemed that it wasn't working as well as it usually did. You groaned in frustration and tossed an arm over your eyes, blocking the fading clouds from your vision.

This week had been so stressful that only last night you'd forced yourself to step away from your assignments to take a long, warm shower. Due to the sheer amount of work you had to complete all week, your showers had been quick and efficient. But, this time, you'd forced yourself to lean your head against the cold tile, bask in the hot water, gently lather up your hair….

But even that hadn't done that trick. And, now, the Black Lake ritual wasn't working either. Something had to give. The stress was over so why on earth were you still so miserable?

Maybe a bit of tea would help? You pulled your arm away from your eyes and allowed them to readjust to the light above. The clouds circled themselves, the slowest movements eating away the remaining sunlight still suspended in the air.

A sigh left you. You leaned up and began to select your things so you could head up to the castle.

“Going already?” A soft, yet strong voice interrupted your inner monologue.

You gasped and whipped around to see one of the only people you could bear to treat with right now.

“Reg,” you sighed in relief. Your eyes fluttered shut and the wind seemed to soothe a bit more. “I'm so glad you're here.”

“I'm not late, am I?” he asked. He looked down to check his watch beneath his sleeve.

“What do you mean?” He seemed confused, but not so as you.

“You told me to meet just after last period, did you not? I was going to come get you here and take you to dinner.”

His thick brows curved in on themselves as he searched your face for answers you were not privy to. Your brain rolled for an explanation as to what he was talking about, but nothing came to mind.

“Darling, are you alright?” he asked, confusion leaving his face and concern gradually flooding in. He dropped down and came to sit right next to you. His arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Reg,” you sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I've had the worst, busiest week of my life. I'm sure I did make plans with you, but I've just been so crazy lately!”

“Aw, that's no matter, my love,” he said gently, tilting your body towards his a bit. You caved and wrapped your arms around his strong body and buried your face into his familiar scent.

“I'm sorry you've had a tough week, though I wish you would have mentioned it to me earlier. I could have tried a thousand times over to make you feel better by now.” He chuckled at his own lighthearted words, working a small giggle out of you.

“Oh! What was that?” he asked suddenly, leaning his head down to be more level with your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Was that a giggle?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and buried your face back into his shirt to avoid smiling.

“No! It's too late. I heard a giggle!” he teased. He rubbed his nose against your jawline and tried to force your face to look back at his.

The pressure of his body tilted against yours pushed the two of you back against the grassy hill. The two of you laughed in synchrony as you embraced each other, absolutely obsessed with the way the other felt.

When the laughter gradually died off, you noticed that Regulus was also lost in the vision of the clouds just as you had been moments ago.

You propped yourself up against the curve of the hill, with one hand beneath your head. Your eyes traced his features one at a time.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked.

His eyes flicked towards yours for a moment before returning to the sky above. He seemed to ponder his answer for a moment—mouth opening to speak then hesitating for a moment before closing once more.

“I'm just thinking about you,” he answered.

“I don't think that's true,” you laughed.

“How would you know? You're not a Legilimens—at least, I don't think you are. Are you?” He feigned worry for just a moment.

You giggled and laid a playful slap on his shoulder. He rolled over to face you and mimicked your position against the ground.

His hand rose to collect a strand of your hair. Gently, he tucked it behind your ear and pressed a soft hand to the side of your cheek. His thumb traced a line across your skin.

“I was thinking about you, though. I was deciding on what to do to make you feel better.”

“You don't have to do anything, Reg,” you sighed, laying back down to watch the clouds once more. “Just being here with me helps.”

“Oh, really? So, did you still want to eat supper together?”

“Not really—if that's not too much trouble,” you said, wincing just a bit as you messed up his plans. The two of you had decided to go to dinner this evening at the beginning of the week and you knew it was rude to cancel just before, but you were truly exhausted. Just the thought of going out to eat made you want to disappear.

“Not at all,” he said, smiling. His fingers raised to caress waves through your hair, his nails soothingly scratching along your scalp. “We can just go another night.”

“There's just one problem, though,” you said.

“What is it?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing again just as they always did.

“Even though I don't want to go out, I'm still kinda hungry.”

He smirked just a bit. “You're hungry?”

You nodded, a smile slowly appearing on your face. He pretended to be annoyed that you'd even mention that to him, sighing and groaning and everything else he wanted. You rolled your eyes at him, letting him fake his irritation and act out his part for a few more moments.

When he finally decided he was done, he sighed and collapsed against the ground. “I can't believe I have to feed my girlfriend. Nobody told me about all this stuff before I asked you out. I feel like this is more than I signed up for.”

“Whatever,” you laughed. “I can pay but I'd rather just have something delivered tonight.”

“Oh, man, well, that's just not going to work out…” he shrugged sadly, shaking his head at you.

“Oh, we can reschedule if you’d prefer to go out,” you suggested, feeling guilty for asking to cancel.

“Yeah, we’ll have to if you want to go out, but we can’t deliver tonight either.”

“Why not?” you asked, a small pout forming on your lips.

“Because I’ve already prepared an incredible meal—I’m just truly offended that you wouldn’t want to eat with me,” he sighed in mock-disappointment.

“Reg, what are you—?” you started, leaning forward into a sitting position. And, just past Regulus’ body, was a checkered picnic blanket crowded with every type of food imaginable. You suppressed a gasp as your eyes traced every option—sandwiches and fruits and desserts and drinks.

“Merlin, this is amazing!” You gaped. “When did you have time to make all this?”

“While I’d love to say that it took no time at all because I’m an incredible cook, I can’t lie to you. I can’t cook for shit and magic is a beautiful asset.” He hid a smile.

It wasn’t long before the two of you burst into laughter, falling back into each other's arms and trying to compose yourselves long enough to decide on what delicacy to grab first.

And, by the time you'd each made your selections and settled in with comfortable conversation and occasionally exchanged kisses, the sun had made its way down behind the horizon and taken all of your troubles with it.

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch, @ilovehotmenandwoman, @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @2dloveshp, @seagull-on-toast

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The GOP is not the party of workers

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/13/occupy-the-democrats/#manchin-synematic-universe

The GOP says it's the "party of the working class" and indeed, they have promoted numerous policies that attack select groups within the American ruling class. But just because the party of unlimited power for billionaires is attacking a few of their own, it doesn't make them friends to the working people.

The best way to understand the GOP's relationship to worker is through "boss politics" – that's where one group of elites consolidates its power by crushing rival elites. All elites are bad for working people, so any attack on any elite is, in some narrow sense, "pro-worker." What's more, all elites cheat the system, so any attack on any elite is, again, "pro-fairness."

In other words, if you want to prosecute a company for hurting workers, customers, neighbors and the environment, you have a target-rich environment. But just because you crush a corrupt enterprise that's hurting workers, it doesn't mean you did it for the workers, and – most importantly – it doesn't mean that you will take workers' side next time.

Autocrats do this all the time. Xi Jinping engaged in a massive purge of corrupt officials, who were indeed corrupt – but he only targeted the corrupt officials that made up his rivals' power-base. His own corrupt officials were unscathed:

https://web.archive.org/web/20181222163946/https://peterlorentzen.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Lorentzen-Lu-Crackdown-Nov-2018-Posted-Version.pdf

Putin did this, too. Russia's oligarchs are, to a one, monsters. When Putin defenestrates a rival – confiscates their fortune and sends them to prison – he acts against a genuinely corrupt criminal and brings some small measure of justice to that criminal's victims. But he only does this to the criminals who don't support him:

https://www.npr.org/sections/money/2022/03/29/1088886554/how-putin-conquered-russias-oligarchy

The Trump camp – notably JD Vance and Josh Hawley – have vowed to keep up the work of the FTC under Lina Khan, the generationally brilliant FTC Chair who accomplished more in four years than her predecessors have in 40. Trump just announced that he would replace Khan with Andrew Ferguson, who sounds like an LLM's bad approximation of Khan, promising to deal with "woke Big Tech" but also to end the FTC's "war on mergers." Ferguson may well plow ahead with the giant, important tech antitrust cases that Khan brought, but he'll do so because this is good grievance politics for Trump's base, and not because Trump or Ferguson are committed to protecting the American people from corporate predation itself:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/12/the-enemy-of-your-enemy/#is-your-enemy

Writing in his newsletter today, Hamilton Nolan describes all the ways that the GOP plans to destroy workers' lives while claiming to be a workers' party, and also all the ways the Dems failed to protect workers and so allowed the GOP to outlandishly claim to be for workers:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/you-cant-rebrand-a-class-war

For example, if Ferguson limits his merger enforcement to "woke Big Tech" companies while ending the "war on mergers," he won't stop the next Albertson's/Kroger merger, a giant supermarket consolidation that just collapsed because Khan's FTC fought it. The Albertson's/Kroger merger had two goals: raising food prices and slashing workers' wages, primarily by eliminating union jobs. Fighting "woke Big Tech" while waving through mergers between giant companies seeking to price-gouge and screw workers does not make you the party of the little guy, even if smashing Big Tech is the right thing to do.

Trump's hatred of Big Tech is highly selective. He's not proposing to do anything about Elon Musk, of course, except to make Musk even richer. Musk's net worth has hit $447b because the market is buying stock in his companies, which stand to make billions from cozy, no-bid federal contracts. Musk is a billionaire welfare queen who hates workers and unions and has a long rap-sheet of cheating, maiming and tormenting his workforce. A pro-worker Trump administration could add labor conditions to every federal contract, disqualifying businesses that cheat workers and union-bust from getting government contracts.

Instead, Trump is getting set to blow up the NLRB, an agency that Reagan put into a coma 40 years ago, until the Sanders/Warren wing of the party forced Biden to install some genuinely excellent people, like general counsel Jennifer Abruzzo, who – like Khan – did more for workers in four years than her predecessors did in 40. Abruzzo and her colleagues could have remained in office for years to come, if Democratic Senators had been able to confirm board member Lauren McFerran (or if two of those "pro-labor" Republican Senators had voted for her). Instead, Joe Manchin and Kirsten Synema rushed to the Senate chamber at the last minute in order to vote McFerran down and give Trump total control over the NLRB:

https://www.axios.com/2024/12/11/schumer-nlrb-vote-manchin-sinema

This latest installment in the Manchin Synematic Universe is a reminder that the GOP's ability to rebrand as the party of workers is largely the fault of Democrats, whose corporate wing has been at war with workers since the Clinton years (NAFTA, welfare reform, etc). Today, that same corporate wing claims that the reason Dems were wiped out in the 2024 election is that they were too left, insisting that the path to victory in the midterms and 2028 is to fuck workers even worse and suck up to big business even more.

We have to take the party back from billionaires. No Dem presidential candidate should ever again have "proxies" who campaign to fire anti-corporate watchdogs like Lina Khan. The path to a successful Democratic Party runs through worker power, and the only reliable path to worker power runs through unions.

Nolan's written frequently about how bad many union leaders are today. It's not just that union leaders are sitting on historically unprecedented piles of cash while doing less organizing than ever, at a moment when unions are more popular than they've been in a century with workers clamoring to join unions, even as union membership declines. It's also that union leaders have actually endorsed Trump – even as the rank and file get ready to strike:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Yz_Z08KwKgFt3QvnV8nEETSgTXM5eZw5ujT4BmQXEWk/edit?link_id=0&can_id=9481ac35a2682a1d6047230e43d76be8&source=email-invitation-to-cover-amazon-labor-union-contract-fight-rally-cookout-on-monday-october-14-2024-2&email_referrer=email_2559107&email_subject=invitation-to-cover-jfk8-workers-authorize-amazon-labor-union-ibt-local-1-to-call-ulp-strike&tab=t.0

The GOP is going to do everything it can to help a tiny number of billionaires defeat hundreds of millions of workers in the class war. A future Democratic Party victory will come from taking a side in that class war – the workers' side. As Nolan writes:

If billionaires are destroying our country in order to serve their own self-interest, the reasonable thing to do is not to try to quibble over a 15% or a 21% corporate tax rate. The reasonable thing to do is to eradicate the existence of billionaires. If everyone knows our health care system is a broken monstrosity, the reasonable thing to do is not to tinker around the edges. The reasonable thing to do is to advocate Medicare for All. If there is a class war—and there is—and one party is being run completely by the upper class, the reasonable thing is for the other party to operate in the interests of the other, much larger, much needier class. That is quite rational and ethical and obvious in addition to being politically wise.

Nolan's remedy for the Democratic Party is simple and straightforward, if not easy:

The answer is spend every last dollar we have to organize and organize and strike and strike. Women are workers. Immigrants are workers. The poor are workers. A party that is banning abortion and violently deporting immigrants and economically assaulting the poor is not a friend to the labor movement, ever. (An opposition party that cannot rouse itself to participate on the correct side of the ongoing class war is not our friend, either—the difference is that the fascists will always try to actively destroy unions, while the Democrats will just not do enough to help us, a distinction that is important to understand.)

Cosigned.

[just-jordie-things]

[part two] we weren’t just friends - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 11k warnings: swearing, drinking (but it’s legal!), mentions of masturbating summary: two idiots that are bad at confrontation and don’t want things to be awkward somehow make things awkward anyways. more info: college!au, aged up characters, roommates!au, childhood friends, n*oya makes an appearance in this part, soft yuuta taking care of drunk reader

part two: “i’m not ready, eyes heavy now” ___

[mai] : do you want me to come kidnap you? just say we have plans

[maki] : you don’t need to kidnap her.  she’s a big girl.  She can handle talking about her feelings.  can’t you, (y/n)?

[(y/n)] : no i don’t think i can :’( pls come rescue me, idk what to do.

[mai] : maki where are the keys i’m going over there

[maki] : the fuck you are, stay away from my car.

[maki] : i say this with love, (y/n).  get out of bed and just talk to him.  it’s not like you boned.  A little kissing never hurt anyone.  your friendship is stronger than that, don’t you think? 

[(y/n)] : …it was a lot of kissing…

[mai] : did he get a boner? 

[maki] : you’ve been friends a long time.  and he kissed you back, didn’t he? he probably enjoyed it.

[(y/n)] : i think he enjoyed it… idk… i’m rlly embarrassed about it.

[mai] : if he got a boner he enjoyed it.

[maki] : ur being gross :p

[(y/n)] : but what if he just got carried away and it didn’t mean anything and he’s upset with me? 

[maki] : did he say he was upset with you? 

[(y/n)] : … no.

[mai] : he’s probs pent up now.  you should seduce him again.

[maki] : then all this talk is pointless.  go TALK to him and then if it’s bad we’ll come swoop you up and take you out for the day.  deal? 

[(y/n)] : bed is comfy… and safe…

[mai] : and if we don’t hear from u we’ll assume u seduced him again

[maki] : you got this :)

(y/n) sighed as she turned off her phone, dropping it onto her mattress as she glared up at her ceiling.  The light from the sun had long since poured in through the window, having woken her up hours ago.  She wasn’t surprised to see so many texts in her groupchat with the Zen’in twins after Toge blabbed about what he thought he saw when he returned to the apartment late last night.

Normally she would’ve ignored their pestering and turned down any assumptions they may have made.  But she needed advice from her closest friends on what to do now.  She had yet to leave the safety of her bedroom, knowing Yuuta would be awake and going about his morning routine.  Maybe it was silly to be afraid of running into him, but her shame kept her shackled to the bed.

Maki was right, it wasn’t fair to assume how Yuuta would behave today.  It was a discredit to the years of friendship under their belts.  But then again, making out in a sudden moment of weakness was a blunder on their friendship, too.

Dramatically, she rolled over, planting her face in her pillow and groaning out her frustrations.

When she finally made an appearance, Yuuta’s head shot up from the kitchen table where he’d set up his things to spend the day working on an essay he should’ve started yesterday.  Just like yesterday, his focus shifted completely as soon as her door creaked open and she stepped out.

Her eyes widened a bit when they landed on him, as if she was surprised to see him there at all.  He gave her a small smile, hoping to ease any nerves she likely had coming into the morning.

“Mornin’,” He hummed, his gaze fixed on her as she lingered in her doorway, seemingly unsure about leaving her room at all.  “Made a pot of coffee if you need some” 

Yes, caffeine, her body pleaded, and she nodded at him gratefully as she made her way to the kitchen.  Even as she grabbed her usual mug out of the cupboard and poured a generous amount of coffee into it, she could feel his eyes on her back.

He watches as she shuffles about the kitchen, pouring in her cream and sugar before testing the drink, then repeating the cream and sugar.  He smiles to himself as this happens a few more times.  She’s not happy with it until it’s color is milky brown, and it surely no longer tastes like coffee at all.

“Thank you” She hums when she takes a longer drink, smiling as it finally tastes perfect.

She turns to him, leaning against the counter and holding her mug carefully in both hands.  He gives her a nod, his eyes flickering over her, as though looking for any sign of discontent.  He finds none.

“Yeah,” He replies quietly.  “You sleep alright?” 

(y/n) nods back.  “You?” 

He shrugs a shoulder, his head moving from side to side with lack of a real answer.  Her lips pull into an awkward frown, not knowing what to say now.

She hates that she finds it so hard to speak to him.  It had never been like this between them before.  They’d never tiptoed around each other, conversation always came naturally.  And when they were quiet, the silence was comfortable.

The silence now feels so heavy that her chest aches.

She hates that she’s the reason for the nervous energy buzzing in the air, making her skin prick with goosebumps and her heart beat erratically.

“I, uh, I think I’m gonna go out with the twins later” She forces herself to speak, saying the first thing that comes to mind.  Even though she hadn’t explicitly made plans with the Zen’ins, she was sure they’d do her this favor.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” She sighs, sounding less convincing by the second.  “Probably for drinks, I could really use a drink” She mumbles the last part.

Yuuta chuckles, his smile cracking a little further as his eyes catch the clock on the oven behind her, before looking at her again.

“Not even ten in the mornin’,” He tells her, tilting his head.  “Already need to forget today?”

Her face flushes and she tilts her head to stare down at her cup of coffee.

“That’s alright,” Yuuta brushes off her nervousness as best he could.  He just wanted her to be at ease, even if that meant pretending nothing happened between them.  “I’ve got an essay to keep me company today anyways,” He says, nodding to the scattered textbooks and notebooks before him.  “But you’ll let me know if you need a ride, or anything?”

She nods back at him, the smile on her face a little more genuine this time.

“Yeah, I will” She says, and finally makes her way out of the kitchen.

She goes to greet their fish good morning, cooing softly to the thing as it swims about it’s tank excitedly.  She gives into it’s begging, sprinkling in the smallest amount of fish flakes as she could, and cheering quietly as he strikes at the little clump of food at the surface of the water.  Yuuta tries not to stare as she murmurs and coos to the fish as though it were any other pet, a kitten, or a hamster.  But he can’t help the lurch in his heart watching her sweet talk the betta that only had the capacity to care about being hungry.  The scene truly was a testament to her character.

She finished her coffee and went about her normal routine without much else to say to him.  Yuuta tried not to mind.  He tried to focus on his essay and give her space to settle back into what felt normal.  He just hoped she’d relax sooner than later.  He’d hate to have her feel uncomfortable in her own home.

Shortly after she’d gotten in the shower, he lost focus on his project again and reached for his phone.

[yuuta] : i feel like a total fucking idiot.  i think i messed everything up.

[toge] : looked like u guys enjoyed urselves to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[yuuta] : so not what i meant. [yuuta] : she can barely talk to me.  she only just got out of bed.  she seemed so uncomfortable.

[toge] : did she seem mad? maybe she just didn’t know what to say.  it is kinda awkward

[yuuta] : i don’t think she’s mad.  I think she just regrets it

[toge] : did u bring it up?

[yuuta] : no, i don’t know how

[toge] : well did u try ‘hey we made out and i liked it, what are we?’

[yuuta] : ._.

[toge] : ok taking that as a no. [toge] : but starting w that is prlly a good idea

[yuuta] : but what if that makes it worse [yuuta] : what if she doesn’t want anything more and it was just like a one time thing yk [yuuta] : we both had a bit to drink. [yuuta] : i think i’m going to have a panic attack.

[toge] : ok slow down for a sec [toge] : you’re jumping to conclusions, remember? you can’t decide what she’s thinking bcuz you haven’t talked about it. [toge] : rn what you have control over is what you want to do about it.  So for now, just try to focus on that. [toge] : and ur essay for econ.  actually you should put most of your focus on that.

[yuuta] : ok ur right.  i’m gonna work on that now. [yuuta] : thank you.  I’ll talk to you about it later.

[toge] : :) ___

Yuuta had never felt the menacing glare of the Zen’in twins fixed on him before.  When he opens the door to find them in the hallway, clearly perturbed to be greeted by him rather than the girl they were here to escort for the evening, he felt a cold sweat form on the back of his neck.

“Hey guys-” 

“Where’s (y/n)?” Maki pushed in first, side stepping Yuuta completely and bee-lining for (y/n’s) bedroom door, which had been shut since she’d been getting ready to go out with them.

Mai gave him a sympathetic smile, and he stepped aside to let her in.

“She’s a bit on edge, don’t worry about her,” She explained her sister’s antics, something she’d grown used to doing.  “But how are you doing?” 

The simple question didn’t hold it’s usual casual tone.  Mai looked genuinely curious to know his answer.  In fact, it looked like she was taking pity on him as her brows drew together in concern.

“Uh- fine.  I’m fine,” Yuuta stammered over his answer, and quickly made his way towards the kitchen, looking for something to busy himself with.  Getting interrogated by Maki and Mai was the last thing his nerves needed right now.

Even if Maki had already barged into (y/n’s) room and shut the door behind her with a slam.  He’d perked up at the ruckus, watching the door worriedly, but it remained shut, and he didn’t hear hollering from inside, so he figured all was fine between the two, and Maki was just up to her usual untamed behavior.  Mai chuckled to herself.

“Did you want a glass of water? Or something?” Yuuta asked, already filling a cup at the sink.

“Oh no, I’m alright,” Mai shook her head and took a seat at the kitchen table.  Her eyes scan over the messy stacks of books and the long extension cord that reaches across the whole room to keep his laptop alive while he works.  “You’ve been busy, hm?”

Yuuta chokes, whirling around, not realizing she’d been commenting on his mess at the table.  He instantly flushes, especially when Mai raises a brow and her lips curl into a smirk at his reaction.

“Oh- that- yeah,” He coughs to clear the hitch in his throat, hitting his fist to his chest a few times for good measure.  “I have an essay that’s due in a week” He explains quietly, certain that she didn’t actually care what he was working on.

Mai only nods, changing the subject before he could bore her with the specifics of the assignment.

“So, what’re your thoughts on the whole thing?” 

Yuuta blinks, unsure of what she was really asking.  Mai tilts her head at him, knowing he was a smart enough guy that he could figure it out on his own.

“I don’t know…” He sighs, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck.  “I don’t know what the right thing to do is…” 

Mai giggles cutely behind her fingers, as if she’d been watching two kittens playing with a ball of yarn, rather than watch a grown man struggle with the feelings he’d carried for years.  Feelings so strong everyone around him knew damn well where his heart lied.  It was a cruel laugh, but she couldn’t help it.  Yuuta could be so pitifully hilarious sometimes.

“Sorry,” Her apology is empty when he furrows his brow at her.  “It’s just… I owe Toge money for this, you know,” 

Yuuta’s gawking now, frozen and silent as he waits for further explanation.  Had everyone been in on something he hadn’t known about? Was this all some elaborate prank on him?

“I always thought you’d make the first move.  Guess Toge knew best this time” 

“Wait, you actually bet on- he bet against me?” Yuuta stammered.  Mai smiled sweetly.

“Everyone bet against you,” She told him.  “Well, everyone but me,” She corrected right away.  “Personally, I thought it’d be a whole love confession thing, you know? Like in the movies? I always thought you were the kind of guy that just wouldn’t be able to hold it in anymore.  After last night I was sure that if (y/n/n) had a little push it’d be enough for you to do something.  But it sounds like she initiated, no?” 

Yuuta’s head was spinning taking in all of this information at once.  Everyone knew? His closest friends, and they bet against him? His face felt hot with embarrassment, and just when he thought this whole thing couldn’t get worse, too.  Damn them all for being such a close knit group of friends that nothing was private anymore.

“I… I guess…” He answered the question quietly, unsurely.  Truthfully Yuuta wasn’t sure who exactly was at fault for the situation.  (y/n) might have brought up the subject, but he was the one who kissed first, wasn’t he? “So… she told you all of it?” He asked.

Mai smirked.

“Sorry, can’t break the girl code,” She says innocently.  Yuuta rolls his eyes.  Bullshit.  She just wanted to yank his chain.  “But you’re my friend too,” She reminds him.  “So I was just curious what you thought about all this” 

Their banter was cut short by (y/n’s) door swinging open, Maki’s voice carrying out into the hall as she exited, nodding for her sister to get up to head out.

(y/n) followed shortly after, a pair of heels in one hand, her other hand occupied trying to secure a bracelet on her wrist.  With her focus on awkwardly trying to maneuver the clasp with one free hand, Yuuta was given enough time to stare at her properly.

She’d spent a lot of time holed up in her room, supposedly getting ready, and now he could see just the amount of effort she’d put into doing so.  Her hair was done up, styled in perfect soft waves that bounced when she moved, and fell around her shoulders.  A simple but pretty dress hung from tiny straps at her shoulders and fell just above her knees.  It was her favorite color and one that complimented her very well.  Yuuta had been there when she’d found it and claimed it was an ‘impulse buy’, but she’d loved it thoroughly and had worn it regularly.  He stared in awe while she struggled with the jewelry and cursed under her breath.

It took him a minute to come back to reality, blinking quickly as if he needed to refocus, before approaching her with an outstretched hand and a small smile.  She understood what he was offering from the small action.  It wasn’t the first time she’d struggled to put on her own jewelry, and she’d often turned to him for help with the dainty clasps.

Sheepishly, (y/n) placed the charm bracelet in the palm of his hand, before holding her wrist out to him.  With how close she is he can smell the flowery perfume she’d just applied before coming out of her room.  It was sweet and pretty and he swore it flooded his senses like THC, lifting him right off the floor and into the clouds.

“Thank you” She murmurs.

She watches as he carefully lifts the jewelry from both ends, securing the claw clasp between his thumb and index finger gently.  A smile lifted at the corners of his lips as the little charms dangled off the silver chain, and he recognized the bracelet.

It was a gift from him.  For the first birthday she’d celebrated since moving in together.  It wasn’t the most extravagant thing, there were no jewels, the chain was made of silver rather than rose gold or something more expensive and romantic.  The charms were a mismatched set of stars and moons, some varying in color, but most of them the same silver as the chain they dangled from.  When he’d come across it, Yuuta thought he’d struck gold.  It had been the perfect gift.  He’d seen it in the window at a jewelry store he’d never looked at twice before, but somehow this little bracelet called to him and he was waltzing right inside and purchasing it at the counter not five minutes later.  

The clerk placed it in a little velvet box, which Yuuta took home and carefully wrapped a silky white ribbon around.  It had taken some practice to tie the bow just right, but he’d been very proud of his craftsmanship.  In the days leading up to her birthday, he was sure he was going to ruin the surprise, he was so giddy with excitement.

Then when the day came, and they were all out with their friends for dinner, he was a wreck.  Everyone else’s gifts were so different from his.  Maki had given her a nice leather jacket, Mai had given her a handle of her favorite rum, and Toge had given her a new game for their switch.  When all that was left was the small gift bag holding Yuuta’s gift, he was chugging his drink as she reached into it with a grin.

The table went silent when she pulled out a tell-tale velvet box, a perfect silk bow tied around it.  Yuuta avoided her gaze when her wide eyes turned to him.  He’d missed the way her cheeks had warmed up, too embarrassed by the stares from the rest of their friends.  ‘Jewelry?’ she’d asked sweetly, before carefully untying the ribbon and propping open the box.  She’d gasped, setting the box down carefully before lifting the bracelet from it, admiring each mismatched charm dangling from it.

Her eyes lit up as she turned to him, holding it out for him with one hand, the other wrist on display as she bounced in her seat, prompting him to put it on her.  That was the first of many times Yuuta had clasped the gift carefully around her wrist.  Conversation between the twins and Toge picked up again as the pair shared a sweet, private moment.  Yuuta wasn’t sure why it was so intimate to do such a simple favor for his friend, but his skin burned where it grazed hers as he adjusted the new jewelry for her.

‘It’s beautiful,’ She’d whispered softly, her eyes fond as they gazed into his.  ‘I love it so much, thank you, Yuuta’.

As he hooked the claw through the usual hoop she always wore it at, the perfect length to keep it secure on her wrist but still let the little stars loosely dangle, Yuuta couldn’t help but think about that first time he’d put it on for her.

“There,” He hummed when it hung perfectly around her wrist.  “You’re all set now” 

His eyes lingered on the bracelet and it’s meaning that he’d never quite worked up the courage to tell her about, before flickering to meet her soft expression.  There was something in her eyes that told him she was trying to say something, but she didn’t budge on it.  Her lips curved into a small smile as she nodded at him in gratitude.

“So we’re ready?” Maki cleared her throat, drawing both of their attention over to where she had her arms crossed and a brow raised.  

(y/n) was quick to shuffle away from Yuuta, sliding on her heels and making sure the straps were adjusted just right at her ankles before giving Maki a wide smile.

“Ready!” 

She leaves with a wave and a sweet call of good luck on finishing his essay.  Yuuta lingers at the door, even long after the three have left for the night.  The creeping feeling that he’s an idiot plaguing his mind again.

It wasn’t like he could tell her not to go, that wasn’t fair.  It also didn’t seem right to tag along, he wasn’t a total moron after all, he knew that she needed some space tonight with her girlfriends to collect herself and get over what happened between them.

But god, he just hoped she wasn’t going to get over it by finding someone else to distract her from it. ___

Rather than go to the usual bar that the group would spend free evenings at, Maki and Mai had promised an all new experience for the night.  Mai talked up the place animatedly, all bright eyes and movements of her perfectly manicured hands, while Maki drove and chastised her sister for being such an annoying passenger.

The longer (y/n) spent around them, the more her nerves began to settle and she finally gave in to the excitement of going out for the night.  It had been a while since they’d done something just the three of them.  Girl time was hard to come by, and often only happened in their groupchat.  Toge and Yuuta had a way of wiggling into their plans, not that they really complained about it.  It was nice to have a close and comfortable group of friends.

But right now, (y/n) needed two things.  One, time with her favorite twins that always scored free drinks wherever they went.  And two, the free drinks that the pair were currently scoring as they chatted up the bartender.  

(y/n) watched in amusement as Maki slid her glasses onto the top of her head pulling her hair away from her pretty face, and Mai leaned over the bar on her elbows, her low cut top doing all the work for her even while she undoubtedly flirted with the tattooed man behind the bar.  The high top table (y/n) sat at with all of their purses- it wasn’t like the Zen’ins needed their wallets- was far enough away that she couldn’t hear the conversation happening, but she recognized the sweet, alluring smile on Mai’s red painted lips.  It was a flirty look, and held absolutely no bite behind the bark.  It was just a well rehearsed dance, and she knew exactly how to use it to get what she wanted.

Admittedly, it had even worked on (y/n) a few times.  So she knew that no man was strong enough to withstand it’s power.

Sure enough, the girls were already headed back to the table with three drinks between them, and proud grins on their faces as they snickered between themselves.

“Did a phone number come with these?” (y/n) teased as Maki handed her the extra cocktail.  She thanked her with a bright smile, admiring the swirls of color in the drink before she stirred it up.

“Sure did,” Mai says, flashing the napkin between her fingers, the scrawl of numbers in purple ink spread across one side.  “I think I might call this one too” She adds excitedly.

Maki and (y/n) share a laugh before the three of them raise their glasses, clinking them together gently.

A few drinks passed and (y/n) had almost forgotten why she’d even wanted to go out tonight.  It was so nice to hang out with the Zen’in twins.  There was always plenty to gossip about, and especially in a setting like this one, there was only more fuel for their fire.

While Mai went back to order their fourth round, and flirt with the bartender some more, Maki dragged (y/n) out to the dance floor.  She knew her well enough to know that three drinks was just the right amount to loosen her up and get her out there without much protest.  And just as she thought, (y/n) eagerly followed, hips already swaying to the familiar beat.

“You feelin’ better?” Maki asked, leaning in close enough so she didn’t have to yell as much over the music.  Close enough that (y/n) could smell the familiar perfume she’d been wearing since they were in high school.

“I am,” She beamed up at her friend while they danced.  “Thank you for taking me out, this is just what I needed” 

Maki smiled back at her, relieved to have helped.  Even if it was only for a few hours, she knew that this distraction was necessary to clear her mind.

(y/n) and Yuuta had been dancing the dance of friends that hadn’t realized they were infatuated with each other for so long that Maki genuinely couldn’t remember a time when their romantic tension wasn’t all consuming.  When they’d decided to move in together, she’d known it was only a matter of time before something changed between them.  They all knew, hence the bet with Mai and Toge, that living in close quarters would create a rift at some point.

It sounded like that rift was more of a dive head first into unexplored territory, and (y/n’s) panic text last night that only read ‘s.o.s yuuta and i almost hooked up and i think i’m gonna have a panic attack’ was far more than anything she could expected to happen, but it was amusing nonetheless.

And Maki loved her friends.  She loved them so much she was happy to take her out for drinks and dancing in order to relieve some of the awkward tension at home.  But her friends were morons, and when this was resolved, she planned to never let them live it down.

Because there was no doubt in her mind that Yuuta loved (y/n) with every fiber of his being.  No doubt at all that (y/n) felt just the same for him.  She’d been following him around with stars in her eyes since they were children.  And Yuuta had never treated anyone the way he treated (y/n)- like she hung the moon and stars, like his entire world revolved around her.  

They could be in a crowded room with blasting music and hollering voices, and if (y/n) was speaking, Yuuta was listening to every word with his undivided attention.  Maki had seen it, on multiple occasions.

Six drinks and two free rounds of shots from the bartender that had a crush on Mai later, and Maki was struggling to herd her sister and her friend outside and towards the car.

It was very late into the night, and even for a Friday night Maki was ready to crash and get a full night of sleep.  She should have known to start the process of leaving an hour early, because since suggesting they square up their minimal tab and heading out, an hour is how long it had taken to get the two remotely close to the door.

Mai was insistent on staying until the place closes- which wasn’t for another three hours- but Maki refused to ditch her sister at a bar at one in the morning with a guy she just met.  Free drinks or not, that crossed girl and sister code for her.

(y/n) was a different story.  Three-drink (y/n) loosened up enough to dance a bit and mingle just a little.  Six-drink-and-two-shots (y/n) was making best friends out of everyone she ran into, whether they wanted to chat or not, she found a reason to hold their attention.  One girl had cute boots, some other guy was wearing a tee shirt of a band she’d heard of- not even liked, just heard of- and now she was off again talking to someone near the bathrooms.

“She said she was gonna pee!” Maki barked, and Mai lazily turned her attention towards where Maki was glaring.  “Come on, let’s go get her.  Again” 

Knowing better than to trust Mai to follow, Maki snatches her by the wrist and drags her across the bar with her.  Mai finds this amusing and a bit ridiculous, but doesn’t fight with her.

As they grow nearer and can see (y/n’s) animated talking, they also get a better look at who it was that had stolen her attention.

“Hey wait a sec,” Mai stops in her tracks, pulling her arm out of Maki’s grip only to grab her shoulder and maneuver her body until she could follow her exact line of sight.  “Is that…?” The name doesn’t come off her tongue, but it doesn’t need to.  Maki recognizes the man she’s speaking too instantly.

And she glowers, before speeding off towards the pair at a faster, more determined rate.  This time she knows Mai will be hot on her tail.

“Naoya!” 

(y/n) and the stranger she’d been talking to both perk up.  Recognition flashes in both of them as they see the Zen’in twins stampeding towards them.  (y/n) beams, delighted to see her friends.  The handsome stranger she’d been conversing with wears a smug look as he smirks at his cousins.

“We’re leaving,” Maki said, putting herself between (y/n) and her distant cousin, staring down at her friend with a grave expression.  “Let’s go-” 

“I didn’t pee” (y/n) pouts up at her, too out of it to notice the hostility between her friend and the man she’d just met.  Maki huffs, narrowing her eyes at her as though to ask ‘really?’.  (y/n) bats her eyes up at her.

“I was just keeping (y/n) here company while she waited,” Naoya speaks up.

The Zen’in twins both spun around to glare at him as he spoke.  If (y/n) hadn’t been inebriated she may have recognized the icy stares that she’d seen many people cower away from before.  Eerily enough when directed at him, he stared back at them with his chin tilted out and a smirk on his face.

“I’m happy to wait with her if you both have somewhere to be?” He suggested.

“As if” 

“Eat shit” 

Mai and Maki spoke in unison, both of their comments jarring (y/n), who was now shielded behind them like a small child.  Naoya lifted his hands in mock surrender, and took a step away from the wall.

He caught eyes with (y/n), confused, naive, drunk (y/n), who tilted her head as he waved goodbye to her.  She weakly raised a hand to return the gesture.  Maki glared between them both as she followed the interaction.

“You’ve got my number,” He grins, his eyes staying locked on hers even while Maki and Mai’s were so sharp he could almost feel them piercing his skin.  “If you change your mind on getting over that roommate” 

Mai’s jaw dropped open as she whirled around to (y/n), a look in her eyes that was somewhere between excitement and bewilderment.  Maki snarled at the man until he finally turned around and left.  It wasn’t until then that she ushered (y/n) into the bathroom, where there was no line to begin with, as it was completely empty inside.

The loud music and crowd at the bar muffled out once they were alone in there, and (y/n) was quick to scurry into a stall.

“Fucking ridiculous,” Maki cursed under her breath, while Mai pulled herself onto the counter of sinks, swinging her feet as she laughed to herself.  “If he tries to talk to her again, I’m punching him in the goddamn teeth” 

“That guy?” (y/n) called from the stall, only to go ignored by the sisters on the outside.

“Like when we were kids?” Mai mused, a smirk curling on her lips as she recalled the distant memory.

“No,” Maki shook her head, before a slow smirk of her own formed.  “That was his nose” 

They shared a laugh, even while (y/n) continued to ask who and what they were talking about.  Naoya was a face they’d hoped they’d never have to see again, but certainly had no issue breaking if it came to it.  And knowing him, things would likely come to that.  Since birth he’d been an asshole, it seemed.  Something about being a trust fund baby and a narcissistic manipulator seemed to bring out the worst in him.

(y/n) comes out of the stall with a childish frown as she drags her feet to the sink.

“We’re talking about Naoya,” Mai says, leaning back into the mirror to speak to (y/n) while she washes her hands.  “He’s our cousin” 

“That guy out there?” (y/n) mumbles, her brows furrowing as she focuses intently on soaping up her hands.  “He’s your cousin?” 

Mai nods.

“And he’s the fucking worst,” Maki pipes up with a bark in her tone that has (y/n’s) eyes snapping to her reflection in the mirror.  Sure enough, Maki was giving her a pointed glare.  “Stay away from him (y/n), he’s a piece of shit” 

With wide eyes and her lips pressed together, (y/n) nods back at her in a small movement.

She hadn’t spoken to him too much.  He’d approached her while she was lingering at the wall trying to get her texts to go through.  She vaguely recalled him saying something about a pretty girl being alone, but she hadn’t given him much of her attention, too drunk and annoyed with her phone for not working to care.

But one thing led to another and she was complaining to him about not getting in touch with her hot roommate that she’d made things complicated with, and after he showed her how to send the message as a text rather than an imessage, he’d prodded her into telling him more about this situation-ship as he’d called it, and next thing she knew, she was talking on and on about Yuuta.

And (y/n) may have been a bit drunk, but she wasn’t oblivious.  She caught the way he told her he’d help her get her mind off of things, she noticed the smirk on his lips and the darkness in his eyes as they swept her figure.  But she didn’t care about his intentions.  She just needed to vent, to an impartial- partially impartial- party that wouldn’t tell her what everyone else was telling her.

So honestly, (y/n) had no problem ignoring the new number in her contacts.  She wasn’t looking to hook up with Naoya.  But his company was appreciated while it lasted, even if he did only stick around her in the hopes of getting laid.

“She’s not interested in him like that,” Mai tells her sister, before her eyes flit over to (y/n) as she dries her hands.  “Are you?” 

(y/n) merely shakes her head, and tosses the paper towel in the bin.

“Thought so,” Mai smirked.  “You’re still hung up on Yuu-ta~” She singsongs his name with girlish charm, and Maki cracks a small laugh, relieved to know that she didn’t have to teach her asshole cousin a lesson to keep him away from her best friend.

“That much is obvious”

“Come on,” (y/n) sighs, pulling on Mai’s arm to get her off of the counter so they could finally leave the bar.  “Let’s go home so I can sleep this off and hopefully forget all of it” 

Mai slings her arm around her waist as they leave the bathroom, the noise of the busy place drowning out all else once more.  Even as the three of them push through the crowd, with Maki leading because her presence was strong enough to part a path in any crowd, (y/n’s) thoughts are messy.  It was probably all the drinks, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty for the situation she’d put herself in.

She feels Mai’s cheek on top of her head when they near the door, and Maki opens it for the two to go through first, then follow behind.  Sometimes (y/n) thinks her friendship with the twins had developed so much that she shares some of their special twin telepathy.  Because Mai squeezes her hip and nuzzles into her hair just as her thoughts begin to spiral the longer she thinks about going home.  Mai was always affectionate when she was drunk, and maybe she was riding on a high after her score with the sexy bartender, but (y/n) appreciated it nonetheless.  She even sat with her in the backseat of Maki’s car, falling half asleep on her while leaning up against one another.

“I’m so not carrying her if she passes out,” Maki half-chides as she glares at her barely conscious sister in the backseat.  “She can spend the night back there, I don’t care, I’m tired of carrying her ass around” 

(y/n) chuckles, and laughs a little louder as Mai stirs and mutters something along the lines of ‘m not fuckin’ tired back at her.

Somehow she doesn’t pass out on top of (y/n), although her weight is heavy against her, when Maki parks at (y/n’s) apartment complex, Mai sits right up and gets out of the car.  Her and (y/n) keep their arms wrapped around each other as they head inside.  Maki rolls her eyes and occasionally scolds them for being too slow, or stumbling around and bumping into things, but her voice is soft and her hands are gentle as she guides them to the door.

Just as (y/n) is slurring over her words trying- and failing- to explain that she doesn’t have her key, the door opens and Maki is pushing the two inside.

Mai disappears from (y/n’s) side almost instantly, suddenly craving a glass of water and one of the peaches on display in a porcelain bowl on the kitchen counter.

“Pretty much what you expected, yeah?” (y/n) hears Maki say, but she’s suddenly so tired that keeping her eyes open feels like a workout.  She doesn’t even have the energy to ask her what she’s talking about.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Someone replies.  A familiar voice that was deep but soft around the edges.  An instinctive smile forms on her lips.  “Thanks for driving, though.  And for… everything else” The voice grows quieter towards the end.

And then there’s a pair of hands on her shoulders, and (y/n) nearly collapses into the embrace.  She stumbles, catching her heel at an awkward angle and nearly sprains an ankle trying to correct her stance.  But the hands are faster, and stronger, and lift her by her hips before she could fall on the bent ankle or hurt herself at all.  She’s placed right back on the ground a moment later, but the hands remain.

“Yuuta~” She greets him once she finally realizes who it is that is keeping her upright.  It was an honest mistake, with her heavy eyes and alcohol flooded system, it was easy to confuse Yuuta’s strength for Maki’s.

Yuuta chuckles quietly at her delayed acknowledgement, his thumb caressing her hip in gentle circles.

“Let’s get you some water and into bed, hm?” He hums, tugging gently on her to get her to follow him.

(y/n) stumbles along without much hesitation at all.  She’s humming a tune that had been stuck in her head after she’d heard it at the bar, and Yuuta tries not to laugh at her inebriated state, but she does make it difficult.

When he opens the door to her bedroom, they realize why it had been shut.

Mai was face down in (y/n’s) pillows, passed out cold.  Her heels had been kicked off and unceremoniously thrown onto the rug, but that was as far as she got in settling in for bed.  She was still in her dress, all of her jewelry, and most definitely was staining (y/n’s) silky pillowcases with her makeup.

“Damn, that’s another pillowcase set she owes me” (y/n) mumbles with a huff, leaning defeatedly into her door frame.

“She’s done this before?” Yuuta’s brows furrow.

(y/n) looks over at him with a frustrated pout before nodding.  He winces, but their moment of shared exasperation is quickly clouded by how funny it was that such a thing had occurred twice and they hadn’t learned from it, and soon Yuuta was ushering them both out of the doorway and into the hall so they could let her sleep in peace.

“We’ll let her stay,” He says quietly, already guiding her to the other door.  His door, she realizes distantly.  “She clearly needs the rest, you can just stay in here, alright?”

He watches the delay in her realization as she turns to face him with a concerned look on her face.  Yuuta already knows what she’s going to say before the words form in her mouth.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” He eases her into the room with a gentle hand on her lower back.  Her expression is still unsure, but her feet move on their own accord further into the room.  “Get somethin’ to wear out of the dresser,” Yuuta instructs, knocking his knuckle against the drawer he kept his sleepwear in.  “I’ll go let Maki know she can stay with Mai if she wants” 

(y/n) gives him a small nod before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.  

It felt odd being in his room, not because it was unfamiliar to her, she actually spent plenty of time lounging in his room with him, but it was odd being there without him.  Especially when she’d been asked to change, and into his clothes no less.  

Her movements were hesitant as she opened the drawer he’d pointed to.  The wood creaked out and put his clothes on their perfect, organized display.  She let out a small laugh through her nose at how crisp his tee shirts were folded, and similarly, the even rolls of sweatpants beside them.  It was almost ridiculous how perfect it all looked.  But she couldn’t be surprised.

It almost felt wrong to pluck out a tee shirt and pair of sweats and unfold them, but suddenly her wrinkled skirt and the straps that didn’t want to stay in place on her shoulders were enough of a bother for her to unzip the irritating material and let it drop to the floor.

Yuuta’s clothes smelled like him.  Which shouldn’t have been something that surprise her as much as it did, pausing as she tugged the tee shirt down, dipping her nose against the loose collar and inhaling the familiar scent of pine and the laundry detergent they shared, creating a fragrance that was so distinctly Yuuta she could recognize it in a second.

She tied the drawstrings of the sweatpants in a double knot to keep them from sliding back off her hips, and that was when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in” She called quietly, aware of the sleeping girl in the next room over.  Although a tornado couldn’t stir Mai from the drunken slumber she was in.

Yuuta opened the door slowly, trying to keep it from creaking, before he entered the room.

He tried not to stare, he really did, but he couldn’t help but smile at the way his clothes blanketed her, and just how cute she looked in them.  It wasn’t necessarily the first time she’s worn his clothes, there had been plenty of times where he’d lent her his jacket, or a spare tee shirt in high school when she’d spilled milk on her blouse, and those times had felt special too, but now felt… significant.

Seeing her wrapped up in his pajamas in his room while getting ready to go to sleep in his bed, Yuuta’s grinning at her while her face is going pink with embarrassment.

“Maki went home,” He cleared his throat, trying to remember the conversation he’d just had before he walked in here and had his mind wiped of all logical thought.  “She said she’ll pick Mai up in the morning” 

“Alright then,” (y/n) nodded in understanding.  “Oh, and can I borrow a-” 

“Your shoes are still on,” 

Yuuta’s voice is soft as he cuts her off, vaguely pointing to where her strappy heels poked out under the pool of fluffy cotton at her feet.  She looks down as though confused by the statement, but sure enough she realizes she hadn’t taken them off when she’d dropped her dress and stepped into the sweats.

She giggles to herself and lifts a leg, the excess fabric of his pants hanging off her ankle so she could be sure her heels were in fact still on her feet.

“Here,” Yuuta reaches out, guiding her to sit on the edge of his bed.  She follows, but just before she could lean over to undo the small buckles at her ankles, Yuuta was already kneeling to the ground before her.

(y/n’s) certain that her mistake from the night prior is the only reason that she feels a swell in her chest and an intimate tension settle in the air around them.  Because there’s no other reason she should feel her heart racing and her face going hot as he carefully unlatches the buckle of the left shoe and slides the strap out before pulling the shoe away and dropping it to the floor.  There’s no reason why she should feel butterflies fluttering around her tummy as he follows the same procedure for the right one.

But she does.  She feels her blush and the butterflies and the dryness in her throat as the tension sucks all of the oxygen right from her lungs.  And when he looks up at her with a sweet smile, surely happy to have helped, all of those feelings seem to be put under a magnifying glass.

“Better?” He asks with that damn smile.

Against her will, her mind wanders to how soft and warm that smile had felt when it was pressed against her mouth.  How firm and gentle and experienced his mouth felt when it kissed hers.  Her fingers dig into the plush comforter she sat on, trying to ground herself to reality, as far away from that memory as she could get.

She gives him a small nod.

“What did you want to borrow?” He asks as he stands, and her eyes follow his as he’s suddenly so easily towering over her.  She almost had no idea what he was talking about, and she’s quick to release her hold on the blanket.

“Right- um- could I borrow one of your blankets? Mai is on top of all of-” 

Yuuta’s chuckling makes her halt in her explanation, her brows barely pinching together in question at the reaction.

“You don’t need to sleep on the couch (y/n/n), you can stay in here, I already told you that,” 

She presses her lips together as she regards him, trying to find any source of discomfort or regret.  He seems to pick up on her evaluation, and he raises a brow as he chuckles at her.

The sound feels all too delighted, like he was amused by her hesitation.

“(y/n), it’s fine, you’re overthinking,” He tells her.  “I’ll get you a glass of water, m’kay? Just… get comfortable.  You’ve slept in here tons of times before” 

He leaves the room before she could say what they were both thinking.  Not like this.  She’d accidentally napped in here on a few occasions, waiting too long for him to be done studying, or when her bedding was in the wash and she had grown tired after a day of chores, she wasn’t a stranger to his bed.  But just as she wasn’t a stranger to his room, it still felt all too new right now.

Like if she moved too quickly she might break something intangible yet oh so fragile.

Nonetheless, she shuffles into the bed and under the covers, and her hazy mind begins to settle as soon as she rests her head on one of Yuuta’s feathery pillows.  She wonders if everything he surrounded himself with- his clothes, his blankets, his pillows- was comfortable because he valued comfort, or if it simply was because it was all his.  Because it was an extension of him.

But maybe she was still just a bit drunk and overthinking the fluffy warmth surrounding her.  Maybe he was right about that part.

She’d just been drifting off to sleep when the door opened again, and she peeks her eyes open as Yuuta brings a glass of water over to the bedside table she laid next to.

“Try to drink all that tonight, alright?” His voice is a hum, surrounded by softness, and comfort, and she’s reaching for that question in the back of her mind again, prodding at it until she’s a little less sleepy, her curiosity stirring her mind enough to keep it active.

“Alright,” She murmurs back, leaning up on her elbow as she reaches for the glass, delighted to see it was chilled with ice.  “Thank you” She adds before taking a few sips.  Her dry throat had gone unnoticed until the first touch of water to her tongue, and suddenly she’s drinking down half the glass.

The bed dips behind her as Yuuta settles in, sighing to himself quietly as he gets situated.  (y/n) quickly sets the glass back down, before turning over to face him.

In the dark room she vaguely makes out his silhouette, and she can’t tell if he’s looking at her or not, so maybe it’s what helped ease her nerves as she laid before him.

“Did you have a good night?” He breaks the silence first, but he keeps his voice quiet.

“Yeah, I guess so,” (y/n) mumbles back, her fingers finding a loose thread in his sheets.  “It was fun dancing with Maki and Mai…” She wraps the thread around the tip of her middle finger.

“You sound disappointed” Yuuta comments, hooking his arm under his pillow so he could get a slightly better read on her expression, but the shadows cast over her features are too dark for him to decipher.

But he can feel it when she shrugs one of her shoulders and hums in a way that sounds like I don’t know.

“It was alright, it was, I just…” She tries to explain it, but as she speaks the rest of the words just don’t come to mind.  It had been fine, it had been fun even, nothing wrong had happened, but it didn’t quite feel… “I think I just thought my tendency of drinking to forget was the right way to go, but I don’t think it worked, and I think I’m only going to feel worse,” 

It was word vomit through and through, an endless stream of thoughts flowing right out of her mouth before she could think twice about what she was saying or how it might make him feel.  But the cusp of the issue was right there and she was dying to understand the complicated knot of feelings swelling in her chest.

“I think I made a mistake,” She slows down as she says this, and Yuuta wishes she would’ve ripped off the bandaid, but at least she couldn’t see it when he frowned at her.  “But not- not for what you think, I don’t mean it… like that,” She stammers a bit as she tries to correct herself, the alcohol still in her system doing her no favors besides the minor boost in courage.  “But I… I don’t think I could handle it” She says in a small voice.

She’s quiet for a bit as she tightens the thread around her finger, barely able to make out the way it creases and dips into her skin.

“Well…” Yuuta sighs, struggling to find the right thing to say to her.  

What could he say? He could tell her the truth, unpack all of his feelings, his entire heart, right here, but at the end of the day wouldn’t that just make things more complicated? She wasn’t exactly sober, and if she didn’t feel remotely the same way then he dug himself a socially awkward grave that he’d just have to live in because damn it they split the rent.  He’s panicking, breaking into a cold sweat even under two blankets.

“It was just a kiss, yeah?” He repeats what she’d told him just last night.  But unlike the confident, smug way she’d phrased it, he sounds unsure, and maybe even frightened.

Her head moves, and he still can’t make out the direction of her gaze, but he can still feel her eyes on him.  He tries to focus his vision better, hoping to adjust to the darkness soon.

“If it was just a kiss I don’t think I would’ve felt compelled to go out and try to forget it happened,” (y/n) replies, her voice hushed, afraid of revealing too much.  “I’m just really sorry” 

Yuuta blinks a few times, as if that would help him figure out if he heard her right.

“You don’t have to apologize, (y/n),” He tells her, his voice taking on a more serious tone.  “You have nothing to be sorry for, you didn’t do anything wrong-” 

“I made things so weird and over- over some dumb advice from Maki- and I just can’t believe I managed to find a way to make our friendship weird because- because you mean a lot to me, you’re really my best friend, Yuuta” 

He can’t tell if his heart swells with love or bursts with the sting of rejection at the statement.

“You’re overthinking again,” He forces a light chuckle, before reaching out and gently wrapping his hand over hers.  “It’s not that weird, alright? Nothing could change… us… okay?” 

She doesn’t say anything, just sighs in disappointment while his thumb brushes over the back of her hand.

“You mean a lot to me too, you know that,” He tried to lighten the mood, but with barely seeing her face it was hard to tell how she was feeling.  “It was just a kiss, alright? Just a… really nice kiss” 

“A few really nice kisses,” She mutters under her breath, finally cracking a small laugh.  Yuuta beams back at her, unable to stop himself from giggling back at her.

It grows quiet between them after a few minutes, but this time it’s comfortable, and she feels her muscles untense as she sinks further into the mattress.

“I did complain about you, though” 

“Complain?” Yuuta pouted.  “To the Zen’ins? They’ll use that against me, you know” 

(y/n) giggles, knowing full well that if she’d told the twins one foul thing about Yuuta they’d grab him by the ankles and dangle him right off this apartment building until he apologized to her.  But she shakes her head at him.

“No, no not to them.  Some guy at the bar,” She explains.  “Their cousin, actually,” 

He racks his brain for a minute, trying to recall who this cousin is, but he can only think of Megumi, and everyone knew Megumi, so had she run into Megumi, she would’ve said so, wouldn’t she? But no, she said some guy.

“Got his number, too,” She adds, but she sounds defeated, like it wasn’t a victory to get a cute stranger’s number at a bar when she’d specifically gone out seeking a distraction.

Something odd twists in Yuuta’s gut.  The jealousy was distinct, but the pride in picking up on the fact that she hadn’t been interested in this mysterious Zen’in relative.

“Maki said he’s a dick, though,” She explained her lack of interest.  “But he was sure happy to put up with my troubles” 

Yuuta lets out a humorless laugh.  “Who wouldn’t listen to a pretty girl at a bar rant about her problems?” He asks, and he can’t quite see it but he knows she rolls her eyes at him.  “But since you got that number complaining about me, that makes me a wingman, right?” 

She snorts back at him.

“Not in the slightest” 

“No?” He frowns.  “Why not?” 

“For one, you weren’t there, you can’t be a wingman if you’re not present,” She explains, matter-of-factly.  “And for two, I don’t think telling a guy how annoying it is that my hot roommate has been walking around in a towel and getting in my head really is all that deserving of me getting a phone number.  I don’t think that booty-call was going to lead anywhere other than the bathroom stall” 

Yuuta crinkled his nose at the descriptive language, before backtracking and perking up at the other part.

“Did you say I’m hot?” 

Realization flashes in her eyes, and Yuuta thanks whatever deity is up there that he can finally make out her features in the dark room.  When she doesn’t immediately reply, his lips curl into a grin.

“You did!” He teases, and she yanks her hand out of his gentle hold, only for him to poke at her face playfully.  “You said-!” 

“Hush,” She shushes him with irritation.  “You’ll wake up Mai.  And- and that’s not a big deal.  You compliment me all the time” 

Her face is burning, and the smile that threatens to take over her face is beginning to win.

“Shut up, that’s totally different,” He murmurs, and moves closer to her when she tries to shrink away out of embarrassment.  “You called me your hot roommate.  And apparently you’re getting bothered over a towel? Is me being shirtless that upsetting?” 

“I’m not doing this with you right now-” 

“Oh no, come on, you have to now,” Yuuta pleads, his voice still that annoyingly sexy teasing tone.  (y/n) turns to push her face into her pillow, and he wiggles closer again, eager to hear what else she’d had on her mind.  “Come on, what else did you have to complain about?” 

“I complained that you’re annoying,” She whines, her voice muffled by the pillow.  Yuuta chuckles.  “And I complained about how you don’t know how much you…” She trails off, and her voice goes impossibly quieter.  “Bother me” She finishes in a mumble to the pillow.

He hears it perfectly clear.

His face feels hot, and there’s a familiar little tingle in his stomach.  But he smirks at her hiding form.

“Well what else, then?” He asks.

(y/n) rolls her head to the side, pressing her cheek back into the pillow as she looks over at him.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“What else bothers you?” He clarifies his question.

She giggles as she shakes her head at him.

“No way” 

“Yes way,” Yuuta laughs back at her.  “Come on, tell me” 

“No!” She protests again in a hiss.  “Am I not embarrassed enough already? I’m taking this to my grave” 

“No you’re not,” Yuuta scoffs.  “Come on, you tell me everything, so, tell me” 

She supposed he had a point.  A dumb one, but a point nonetheless.  Clearly at some point or another she was bound to indulge him on this.  Even though she couldn’t explain it, she was always driven to share every part of herself with Yuuta.  Even when it was embarrassing.  Even when it was intimate.

(y/n) may have told the Zen’in twins about the rushing-out-of-the-shower thing, but that hadn’t meant there weren’t other instances where her mind crossed the platonic boundary between her revolving thoughts of Yuuta.  That was just the first occurrence she assumed they could understand.

She huffs.

“Sometimes you wear your tee shirts a size too small,” She mumbles.

Yuuta wants to tease her, maybe crack a joke, but he keeps his mouth shut as she gives in.  He didn’t want to miss a single word.  He had to pay close attention so he knew exactly how to get under her skin in all the right ways.  Hearing that she found him hot was one thing, he could pass it off as a joke or an empty compliment.  Hearing that there were specific things that he did that made her sexually frustrated? He couldn’t mess this up for himself.

“And when you drive me places, you do that thing with your arm when you back the car up” She adds.

“What do you mean?” He questions that one with a furrowed brow.

“You know,” She mumbles, weakly lifting her arm to demonstrate, bending it behind her head.  He shakes his head, not understanding in the slightest.  “You always grab the back of my seat and look over your shoulder,” She tries to put it into words.  “And then, it’s just, like-” The words fail her again as she continues the motion with her arm.  Yuuta thinks he gets what she’s trying to explain, but he has no idea that such a mundane action was a bother for her.

“That turns you on?” He tries not to laugh, but then (y/n’s) face goes red and she’s trying to deny it.

“I didn’t say that!” She squeaks out.  “I just, you know, forget that I’m not supposed to… thinkaboutyoulikethat” She rushes the confession out as fast as she can.

“I… think that’s pretty normal,” Yuuta admits quietly.  (y/n) blinks wide eyes at him, waiting for him to continue.  “And if anything, I’m flattered,” He adds with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” (y/n) huffs, before wiggling closer, pressing her forehead into his chest before sighing, sleepiness overcoming her.  “Not a word of this to anyone else” She mutters.

Yuuta mock whines as he wraps an arm around her back, tucking her closer against him.  He pretends not to notice when her nose nuzzles into his tee shirt, in the middle of his chest.  He pretends not to notice when her hand slips across his abdomen and over his waist.

“I think about you too,” He murmurs, resting his chin on top of her head.  Her fingers twitch on his hip, almost tickling him.  He tries not to wiggle, he doesn’t want her to think he’s uncomfortable.  “For the record” 

“You do?” She mumbles, half asleep already, but too curious about what he meant by that.

“Mhm” He hums, his hand trailing down her spine and then back up again, the gentle touch of his fingers warming her up, making her melt further into him.

“Like when?” She asks, and when he doesn’t reply right away, she lets out a sigh.  “Come on, I told you!” She whined.  “Now you have to tell me some embarrassing stuff, too” 

“Alright, that’s fair,” Yuuta agreed.  “I like when you wear that dress” He says.  (y/n) beams against his chest.

“That one?” She mumbles, weakly gesturing to the pool of fabric on his floor.  He nods back at her.

“Mhm,” He confirms quietly.  “I know it’s your favorite.  It should be” He smiles to himself.  (y/n) giggles quietly, the soft vibrations hitting his chest and warming his skin.

“Tell me more” She mumbles, the words barely audible.  Yuuta knows that she’s going to pass out soon.  Her breathing was beginning to slow, and her chest rose and fell in steady movements.  Surely he could leave this conversation as it is and she’d be fast asleep in a minute or two anyhow.

“Well,” He sighs out the word, as if he had to pick his own brain to come up with more examples, as if every little thing she did wasn’t enough to catch his eye on it’s own.  “Maybe things are a lil’ different now, hm?” He hums.

(y/n) doesn’t respond.  For a second, he thinks maybe she’s finally fallen asleep, but just as he contemplates checking, her head moves in a small nod.  A silent, barely-there admission.

“I like the way you kiss,” He says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, the cheeky but all-too shy little grin that she’s grown so accustomed to.  She gives him another giggle, a breathless little laugh that makes her shoulders shake and her nose press into the collar of his shirt.  “It’s true, I mean it,” Yuuta said, a quiet laugh escaping him as well.  Partially due to her laughter infecting him, partially out of the relief that maybe talking about what happened would help them both to not feel so weird about it now.  “You’re a good kisser, you should be proud.  I for one feel honored” 

He’s teasing, she knows that, but her face still feels warm as she keeps it tucked away in his chest, hoping that her heart wasn’t beating so rapidly that he could hear it in the quiet room.

“You’re a good kisser, too,” Her words are more slurred than before, Yuuta can practically hear her losing consciousness as she drifts off.  “Really good kisser” She adds under her breath.

And then her head feels a little heavier on his chest, and Yuuta doesn’t have to check to know she’s asleep in his arms.  He’s exhausted and he knows he should close his eyes and try to sleep, too.  But it feels too nice to hold her close, so he hangs onto consciousness for as long as he can.

Before his body’s tiredness finally takes over, he brushes his lips over the crown of her head, and settles into his pillow with his arms securely wrapped around her, making sure that she stays close while he sleeps.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

[wifelinkmtg]

This was intended to be an essay about chivalry—its history, its uses, its various incarnations—medieval violence, the Romantic reinterpretation, the ideal of chivalry in the American South and its attendant lynch mobs. I would have talked about the chivalric triad: Knight, Innocent, Enemy—the way the Innocent serves as a fulcrum for the Knight to enact violence against the Enemy—the iterations of this triad in any number of places in our society, from the so-called sheepdog mentality trained into our police to the legion of revenge-fantasy Taken clones. I would have talked about the way Kierkegaard in Fear and Trembling incorporates chivalry with the sacrifice of Isaac, the theology of self-justified suffering that comes from that. I would have talked at some length about various portrayals of lesbian chivalry in media—Revolutionary Girl Utena, the Locked Tomb books, Signalis—how they use it, what they say about it, and whether at the end there is anything worth salvaging from this intrinsically violent way of relating to the world, to others, to oneself, to God.

I think a version of that essay might still be worth writing someday, but right now, there's something I need to talk about much more urgently. Right now, there's something I suspect you might desperately need to hear. Today I'm going to talk about Godzilla.

GODZILLA SAVED MY LIFE: A Polemic

Godzilla Minus One (2024) takes place in Japan in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War. Its protagonist, Koichi, is a failed kamikaze pilot who in the opening scenes is repeatedly excoriated for his cowardice and dereliction of duty. When he returns home to a bombed and desolate Tokyo, his bereaved neighbor tells him, if people like you had done their duty, this would not have happened. The film spends the rest of its runtime doggedly refuting this idea. It says, out loud, that the relentless calculus of sacrifice that turns men into things to be spent has no place in this world, that it is needless and cruel. It is not subtle about this point. It is not trying to be.

I saw this movie in its black and white version in theaters in February, on the last day of its run. Its version of Godzilla inspires in me both terror and near-religious awe. It looms over the film, an echo both of the devastation of the war and of Koichi's guilt and shame, its presence inviting—demanding—the final consummation of the mission he abandoned.

I wept in that theater. I gripped my friend's hand and I sobbed. This is unlike me (unless I'm watching Gunbuster), and it took four days for me to work out why this Godzilla movie had affected me so profoundly.

arkansas kamikaze

and she looked, and behold! a beast rose from the sea, and against the beast he breathed glory in a Zero dive. his beatified smile shone from the wreck of the Little Rock Planned Parenthood clinic. and a great wind blew out of heaven, and she woke

and made breakfast, and watched her son wholly absorbed in Bonhoeffer, found her lipstick worn down to the nub for practice stigmata, and saw for a moment the dove descending, the tongue of fire over his head.

The thing about being raised in a right-wing fundamentalist family is that you are from birth being prepared to be a weapon, or a martyr, and there is really no difference between those two things. If my mother had had her way, I would have gone to a tiny far-right college and studied law for the sole and explicit purpose of getting Roe v. Wade overturned. She would, I believe, have settled for me bombing an abortion clinic. Certainly it would have been easier for her to reconcile with that than with what I became instead.

The other thing about being raised in a right-wing fundamentalist family is, some things stick. And it's very hard to notice, as your beliefs and values and identity undergo radical changes, that there is still a whisper in you that believes in the power of the glorious death, of the ultimate virtue of strapping explosives to your chest and walking into the halls of the Enemy. And when you feel helpless, when you watch systems and institutions that ought to prevent atrocities instead encourage them, that whisper grows louder and louder and louder.

Watching Koichi fly his last mission, watching him an instant before impact eject, and live—watching everyone live through the final confrontation because they had all rejected the calculus of sacrifice—allowed me to see also for the very first time this parasitic idea that had grown coiled inside me since infancy, allowed me to see where it had come from, its whole monstrous lineage, and then it allowed me to take hold of it and pull it out.

Twenty days later, Aaron Bushnell set himself on fire outside the Israeli embassy in Washington, DC, in protest of the still-ongoing genocide of the Palestinian people. He was, like me, raised in a right-wing fundamentalist environment. He was, like one of my siblings, a member of the US Armed Forces radicalized by his experiences and his own conscience. People called him a hero and martyr—on this very site, in responses to the excellent Crimethinc piece circulating at the time, I saw people saying they felt like they should follow suit (even though the article in question explicitly and repeatedly warned against it!) As if the loss of a person of conscience and conviction could be anything other than a tragedy, as if anyone in power choosing to support the genocide could regard the death of one of their own soldiers as anything other than what soldiers are for, as if the moral response to a genocide could ever be to add another corpse to the mountain—and still I saw people lionizing him, praising his courage and his sacrifice, all but telling people to follow in his footsteps.

No. Aaron Bushnell was a suicide. He lived his whole life within organizations that taught him that he could purchase more with his death than he could ever accomplish with his life, and while we may praise his conscience, we can only mourn his loss and the grievous error that led him to it.

This is the thing about learning to see this parasite: you begin to see it everywhere. Our history for millennia is awash with human sacrifice: Abraham and Isaac, Jephthah and his nameless daughter, Agamemnon and Iphigenia, the crucifixion of Jesus—and later, litanies, row upon row of dead saints, stories of glorious last stands. The courageous martyred dead: blood and corpses, only and always, to Moloch.

In light of the recent US election, perhaps many of my American readers are feeling shock or horror or despair. I understand, and without blame, with love and gentleness, I tell you that this is because you have not correctly understood the scope of the problem. You imagine a discontinuity between the liberal version of American capitalism and imperialism and the fascist version of the same. No such discontinuity exists. Things will no doubt be different for us here in the US than they would otherwise be, and probably worse, but there is no distinction to be made between the genocide of yesterday and the genocide of tomorrow. The enemy is the same. The work is the same.

Above all else, this is to warn you: when you do this work, when you look for a place you can put your shoulder to the wheel, there will be people who want to spend their lives—or yours—like coin to purchase some great change immediately. Perhaps they mean well, and helplessness and desperation drives them to act without regard for the consequences. Perhaps they do not mean well. Do not follow these people. Perhaps they merely expect you to go to prison, and have no plan for how to support you after that. This is barely different. It is far better for you to languish in useless liberal nonprofits which will accomplish nothing of value than to attempt radical direct action with people with correct politics and no forethought, and end up dead or imprisoned—but these are not the only two options. Aaron Bushnell cannot ever again do anything for anyone. You can.

This is as much as I know for certain. I love you. Don't die.

-------

End Notes

It would not be unreasonable to ask me, in light of what I've said here about martyrdom, what I think of it in other cultural contexts, especially since a similar word is often used to refer to e.g. Palestinian people murdered by Israeli soldiers. The answer is nothing at all. Such people get to use whatever words they want to salvage whatever meaning and comfort they can.

Godzilla Minus One, as effective a movie as it is, was not solely responsible for the scales falling from my eyes. It was an important part of the process, but I doubt it would have sufficed on its own were I not in community with people I trust and talk to about such things. "Godzilla and also my trusted friends saved my life" is, alas, a worse title.

There will be a part two to this. Part one seemed more urgent.