#we’ve reached the ‘everything happens so much’ part of the semester

[leadoutlap]

sorry for all the spam. my brain feels like a smooth purée and this is the only way i know how to cope

[ladyescapism]

second choice - part 3

summary: azriel's long-time casual fling wants more, when she is rejected, she is pursued by a certain Autumn prince. will they remain fronds, or be torn apart?

a/n: here is part three to second choice. i didn't know if I was going to make a part three to this but here we are. I am going to make a part four to wrap everything up and it will be the next thing I post. beware, azriel is a real asshole in this one, more so than the last two.

warnings: violation of privacy, mentions of domestic violence, drinking, infidelity, and death

wc: 2,700

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

Three months had passed since Elain’s wedding, and everything had gone back to as normal as it could be. You signed the final contract with Rhys, selling the weapon and its manufacturing rights to him for an obscene amount of money. 

You celebrated with the Inner Circle one night at Rita’s when our semester finished. There were some toasts in your honor that made you tear up. You had a night of fun and laughter with your friends. You talked about your travel plans. You wanted to go see the great libraries in the Day Court and attend the Harvest Festival in the Autumn Court. Everyone was supportive of your plans, and Rhys suggested writing to Lucien about skipping the waitlist to access the libraries. 

Azriel didn’t show up. 

At the end of the night, you found yourself walking back to your apartment with Mor, you having drank too much while she was still sober enough to make sure you got to the right apartment building. 

“You’ll have fun, seeing the courts,” she sighed into the cool night air. “It has always been something I enjoyed.” 

“I hope so,” you mused, the alcohol muddling your thoughts. 

Maybe it was the alcohol or the friendship between you and Mor or the disappointment of Azriel not showing up for you that night that made you confess your feelings to her. 

“I have other reasons for going to Autumn.” 

She paused and looked over at you in confusion. 

“At Elain’s wedding, remember how I danced with Eris and made Az super angry at me? Well, right before that he asked if he could start sending me letters. He did and we’ve been writing back and forth. When I go, I was planning on staying near or at the Forest House and spending time with him while I’m there.” 

Staring at the ground and kicking at it with your shoes was a better option than looking at what was undoubtably betrayal and anger crossing her face. 

“Just be careful when it comes to Autumn courtiers. They are a ruthless bunch, Eris included.” 

“You’re not mad?” You looked up at your friend, shocked at her calm response. 

“You’re a grown female, Y/N. I have no say in what you do or who you spend your time with. I can warn you about Eris and his ilk. But if you want to spend time with him, then you don’t need my permission.” 

You wrapped your arms around the amazing female you called your friend. 

“Thank you,” you whispered in her ear. 

“No need to thank me, Y/N.” You released her from the hug. “It’s what friends do. Besides, look at what happened to Azriel when he tried to meddle with who you spend time with.” 

You let out a long sigh and started walking in the direction of your apartment again. 

“Az and I were – are – complicated. More than friends but never lovers. Not real lovers anyways.”

“Friends with benefits,” she offered, shrugging her shoulders a little. 

“I suppose. But it seemed like his benefits outweighed mine. I mean, the sex was good, but I was a friend, a therapist, and a whore for him. And now he can’t bring himself to come to a celebration for me.” 

“I’m still mad you never told me, by the way.” 

“It was fun to keep it a secret for the first few weeks, but when he made it clear that he didn’t want people knowing about us, it was more embarrassing to admit I was with him just as a fuck buddy.” 

Mor hummed in understanding in what it was like to have a complicated relationship with the shadow singer. 

You and Mor reached your apartment building and hugged before saying good night.

Your apartment was the same as you left it, excluding the Illyrian warrior sitting on your couch. 

You jumped when you noticed him, bringing a hand to your heart on reflex. “Mother on earth, Az! What are you doing here?”  

“I came to talk to you.” 

He looked at you like he did the night you ended things with him. Wounded and dejected. 

“Give me a minute.” 

You hurried and took off your jacket and put your things down, trying not to look at him as you did so. Azriel in your living room was not a foreign sight, but one you never thought you’d see again. 

Having decided you were ready for this conversation, you turned to look at him. 

“What did you want to talk about?” 

“Don’t go to Autumn,” he rushed out. “It’s dangerous to be around people like Eris. Go to Day, Dawn, Summer, or Winter. Hell, go to Spring. Just not Autumn.” 

“I am a grown female, Azriel. I make my own decision about where I go and who I spend time with. Not you. And how did you know that I was going to Autumn?” 

“I sent the shadows to make sure everyone was safe, and they reported back on that conversation. And you’re right. But-” he stopped. “I am asking you, as a friend, don’t go.” 

“If you were my friend then you wouldn’t ask me not to go,” you shouted. “I just told Mor that part of the reason I wanted to go was to see Eris, and she was fine with it. And she has more of a right to be angry with me about spending time with the male who hurt her in the past than you. Why are you doing this to me?”

“I am not doing this to you,” he shouted back. “I am concerned for your safety!” 

“No! You are trying to control me and manipulate the feelings I have for you so that you can guilt trip me into doing what you want! Well, my feelings for you have changed. So good luck with that.” 

“You’re not my friend anymore,” he questioned, his voice lowering to a whisper. 

“I want to be your friend, Azriel,” you said, tears threatening to fall. “But friends don’t do this to each other. They don’t tell each other where they can and cannot go or who they can or cannot see. They don’t show up unannounced to make such demands. But I am willing to try, Az, because I care about you. But like I said that night, I can’t be your whore anymore. And this,” you gestured between yourself and him, “isn’t real friendship. This is toxic.” 

“It is,” he agreed. 

“I need time away, Azriel. Let me have it.” 

“Just-” he sighed, “just be careful, Y/N. Eris is a courtier by nature, a cunning one used to getting his way. Don’t let him take advantage of your kindness.” 

“I have been around the town a few times, Azriel. Thank you for the concern, but it can take care of myself.” 

“Okay then,” he said, defeated. 

“If that’s all, I want to go to sleep.” 

“I’ll leave then. Good night, Y/N.” 

“Good night, Az.” 

And with that, he disappeared into darkness and shadow. 

THE NEXT DAY 

You sat down in the chair at your desk, careful not to spill coffee on the papers scattered everywhere. You would get organized, one day. 

Your head was pounding but you needed to write three letters. One to Lucien asking to get into the libraires without having to get on the waiting list, one to your sister asking if the dates you had decided on worked for her and her family, and the last to Eris to confirm your stay at the Forest House. 

The letters to Lucien and your sister had been easy. However, every time you went to write a letter to Eris, you stared at the page for at least half an hour before coming up with the proper phrasing.

You needed to reference something that he mentioned in a past letter. You reached for the box that you kept them and opened it. Thumbing through the box, you noticed that the first and second letters he sent you were in the wrong place. Just the two having swapped spots in the chronological order you kept them in. You knew because the dates on top of the letters Eris sent you were always in the same place on the envelope. You looked in there last night to count how many letters you have received from him and would have noticed if they were off. 

No one had been in your apartment…

But Azriel. Unannounced. And he could have been in here for hours while you were away at Rita’s. 

 He wouldn’t. 

Yes, a spymaster would look through letters between a foreign High Lord and a professor who just sold a high value weapon if he thought they might be conspiring, you thought. Or if he cared about the person receiving the letters and detested the one sending them. 

Before you could think it through or calm down, you used a message box to summon Azriel. 

Azriel,

Need to talk. ASAP. My apartment. 

Y/N 

He arrived a few moments later, a hand on Truth Teller and looking around the room to assess for threats. 

Having deemed there was no immediate threat, he looked to you. You were just standing by your desk, letting the pure rage show on your face. 

He looked to you, and to the box of letters sitting open on your desk and back to you. 

“Y/N-”

“Did you go through my letters?” Your lips were quivering with fury and hot, angry tears were threatening to spill over at the overwhelming feeling. 

“Let me explain,” he pleaded. “I needed to make sure you were safe.” He dragged his hands to his hair, pulling the locks back to reveal his face. 

“So, you did then?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, lowering his head in shame. “Before you got back here after Rita’s, I came in and looked at the letters.” 

You didn’t need to know anymore. 

“Get out,” you spat. “Now.” 

“Let me explain more, please.”

“GET OUT,” you screamed, that voice having not been dragged from your soul in many, many years. 

He held your gaze for a few long moments, before disappearing in the shadows. 

You sank to the floor, bringing your knees to your chest and letting the angry sobs rack your body. 

You stayed like that for the better part of an hour before pounding came to your door. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called from the hallway. “It’s Feyre, Nesta, and Mor. Az was upset when he reported to Rhys this morning and Nesta found the message you sent him. Can we come in?” 

You pulled yourself off the floor and padded your way to the door. 

You pulled it open to reveal your three best friends standing there with concern on their faces at the look of despair on yours. And you broke down crying once again. 

After recounting the details of your morning, Nesta was ready to kill Azriel. Feyre and Mor were ready to help her hide his body. 

“I don’t know why he is acting like this,” Feyre said. “He isn’t normally like this.” 

“What,” Mor questioned. “Obsessive? Possessive? Domineering? He was like that with me for 500 years. And after I came out and started dating females openly, he acted like anyone mentioning it near him was a personal attack. He was like that with Elaine, especially when she began exploring the bond with Lucien. He was also like that with Gwen when she told him she didn’t want a relationship. He was so convinced it was because she was seeing someone else that he had her followed.”

Nesta just huffed out a long, angry breath. 

“I love Az, he’s been like a brother to me for centuries. But he sucks with females.” 

“I second that,” Feyre said. 

“The worst part of it,” you said. “I’ve been here before.” 

The females looked at you in confusion. You decided it was time to offer up your past to the strong, brave females you called friends. 

“My husband was like that. Obsessive, possessive, domineering. It was cute when we were dating and first married. How he would get jealous when I went out with friends or talk to other males in class or something.” 

You took a deep breath. 

“But as our relationship grew, he started isolating me from my friends and my remaining family. Then it got worse. He started reading my mail, even not letting me go shopping by myself. Then came the belittling and name calling.” 

You sniffled. 

“After half a century of hearing how worthless and stupid and horrible you are, you begin to believe it. You believe that you have to stay with the male that cheats on you and does all these things to you because no one else will ever put up with you.” 

You watched as your tears darkened your pants with little circles as they fell. 

“And when he hits you, your first instinct isn’t to run. It is to do everything in your power to make sure it never happens again. Which means never bring up the drinking or the other females. Quit your job so that you can keep a clean house and make sure dinner is ready for him when he gets home. But its never enough and you become a punching bag for the male that vowed before the Mother to love you till his dying breath.”

Feyre pulled you to her chest as you finished. 

“And when he finally drinks himself sick and dead, you cry tears of relief and not sadness as you bury him.”  

You looked to Nesta with a newfound determination as you said, “I will not live like that again. I refuse to live in fear of a male I am supposed to trust. I refuse to let another male control me like that again. I don’t think Azriel has it in him to hit a female, but if I stay on this path with him, then I will go back to living in fear.” 

Mor pulled everyone into a group hug, much to Nesta’s annoyance. 

“Thank you for sharing that with us,” Mor said, still holding on tight after the sisters pulled away. “It couldn’t have been easy.” 

“I know it’s not like what you all have gone through. I didn’t run when people hurt me. When I got knocked down, I didn’t get back up. I kept my head down and took the punches. But it still affects me and the only way I know to make sure I never live like that again is to look for the warning signs and steer clear.” 

“Drowning in 70 feet of water has the same result as drowning in 700 feet of water,” Nesta said. “But trauma and how each individual responds to it and heals from it is not something to be compared. It took me a long time to figure that out.”

You nodded in understanding. 

The girls stayed for a while longer. Feyre drew you a bath and left you to cleanse the morning’s stresses away. 

Once the water turned cold, you readied yourself and sat back down at your desk, preparing to write that letter to Eris. 

The phrasing came easy to you after relaxing in the bath for so long. You rambled on for two pages about seeing your family and the Day Court and other trivial matters before cutting yourself off. Eris claimed to like it when you spoke about your day and any and all things affecting you. You never aired out your issues with Azriel to him, though. That would cause a bigger problem than it was worth. 

You spent the rest of the day cleaning a few things around your apartment and getting ready to go to dinner with Feyre, Nesta, and Mor. Feyre sent a note asking to go out again a few hours after they left. 

You took the letters you needed to send with you, deciding to drop them at the post office before you met the girls for dinner. 

“Postage to where, miss,” the clerk at the post office asked. 

“The village of Absinthe in the Night Court for this one, the Sol Place in the Day Court for this one, and the Forest House in the Autumn Court for this one, please,” you said, placing each letter on the counter as you stated their destinations. 

“Someone is communicating with some important people,” the clerk said slyly. 

You couldn’t help the grin that broke out across your face as you thought of the recipient of the last letter. 

tags:

@feysandzoyalailover

[dylanwritesgood]

Polaris | 5 | Tie You Down, Down I Come

masterlist | ko-fi | ask

Part: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Gareth Emerson

Rating: Explicit (All characters 18+)

Summary: Eddie wants to be in control, and Gareth wants to give it to him.

WC: 5.4k

Warnings: D/s, brat!Gareth, softdom!Eddie, truly lackluster negotiation of kink and boundaries, oral (AFAB person receiving), light bondage, teensy-weensy bit of sadomasochism that is tame as hell (they are learning, the babies), fingering (AFAB person receiving), multiple orgasms/overstimulation, P in V sex, spanking, threat of choking but not really doing it.

A/N: Them figuring out what they like together <3 A little manhandling and Gareth's over here diving head-first into subspace like it's an Olympic sport and he's going for gold.

Read on Ao3

They hadn’t really talked too much about what had happened at Christmas, but not a day went by that Eddie didn’t think about it. How Gareth reacted to the bites and nips, how doe-eyed he’d looked when he asked Eddie to be gentle with him, how he’d struggled just enough to get Eddie to overpower him, how drenched he’d been. It was pretty much the only thought in his head every time he showered, jerking himself under the shower spray and muffling his noises with his forearm.

He desperately wanted to talk about it. Eddie just didn’t know how to broach the subject with Gareth. He was nervous he’d push him a little too much. They’d been working so hard to build trust in each other, and he didn’t want to fuck it up. But he just couldn’t leave it alone.

Gareth came home that evening, shoulders set tight and drawn up high, stress written in the lines of his face. His classes were hard this semester, and Gareth was struggling with them and juggling his tutoring job, and he just seemed on edge all the time. Eddie greeted him with a kiss, taking his backpack from him and trading him a beer for it.

“You’re a goddamn saint, Eddie,” Gareth groaned, taking a deep drink from the bottle. “Whatcha makin’? Smells good.”

All through the evening, Eddie watched Gareth closely, gauging his mood, trying to figure out if his advances would be welcome. Once they’d eaten and they’d cleaned up, Eddie decided he might as well make a slow move.

He reached for Gareth while he was grumbling to Eddie about his tutoring students, fingers kneading at the sore spot he knew lived in each of his shoulders. Gareth groaned softly and let his head drop forward to stretch his tight neck, still complaining.

“It’s like they expect me to hold their hand through everything. I have to know everything and guide them through it all and remind them to schedule and remind them to show up and figure out the lesson plan and just… argh! I hate it. I don’t want to be in charge.”

Eddie’s ears perked up at that. Not be in charge? Eddie could work with that. He could be in charge.

“So let me be in charge for a little,” He said casually, digging at the nasty knot that had formed in Gareth’s shoulder. Gareth hissed at the feeling.

“You want to take over my students?” His voice was amused, “Tell them what to do? Good fuckin’ luck.”

“No, just you.”

Gareth went still, and Eddie got ready to backpedal. He’d fucked up. That crossed the line. He should have just waited for Gareth to come to him.

“Or not. It’s… Sorry. Never mi—”

“Okay,” Gareth agreed, interrupting him. 

“Okay?” Eddie asked hesitantly. He hadn’t really expected that answer. He hadn’t really thought this far ahead. How in charge was he? What did that even mean?

“Ye-p.” Gareth popped the final consonant. 

“Um… I… Okay. Yeah. Okay.”

Gareth reached up for Eddie’s hands, lifting them off his shoulders and turning around to face him and press against his chest and tuck his face in Eddie’s neck. Eddie let his arms drape around Gareth’s waist.

“I trust you. And I know you want to.”

Eddie wet his lips. “Uh…”

Gareth laughed into his neck. “I know you, Eddie. You’ve been my best friend most of my life. We’ve talked about sex and shit before, back when it was with other people, ‘member?”

Eddie’s face was burning. Okay, so maybe he had thought about trying some of the things he’d been interested in with Gareth, even before Gareth had sort of… given himself to Eddie at Christmas. And Eddie felt guilty as hell about it. 

“It’s okay, Eddie,” Gareth said earnestly, pulling back to look at him. “Please don’t be embarrassed, not with me.”

Gareth was looking at him so sweetly, so fervently, how could Eddie say no to him? He should have known Gareth would accept him, no matter what he might have wanted to try. But then Gareth leaned up to whisper in his ear, and Eddie knew he was done for.

“Remember at Christmas? When you wanted to know what had made me so wet for you? I liked it, standing in front of you after you’d undressed me, and you still had all your clothes on. Feeling vulnerable and exposed for you…”

Eddie groaned, not at all proud of the noise he made. “Jesus Christ, Gareth…”

Gareth was smirking. Eddie couldn’t see him, but he just knew. His boy had him right where he wanted him, practically swooning for him. 

“So… did you just want to talk about it… or are you gonna do something about it?” Gareth’s breath tickled his ear and he prodded Eddie just a little further. Stirred the pot a little more.

“I think there’s supposed to be some talking before you just agree to stuff like this,” Eddie breathed. His heart was hammering in his chest.

“I trust you. Be sweet to me?”

Eddie was biting his lip, surprised he hadn’t managed to cut it with his teeth. Gareth would be the death of him. He already knew what buttons to press to get Eddie to do what he wanted.

“If you don’t like something…”

“I’ll tell you to stop. Or tell you no, or ow, or something like that.”

After a moment, Eddie agreed. “Okay.” His hands drifted down to squeeze Gareth’s perfect, pert little ass. “Strip. Uh… as much as you want to.”

Gareth rolled his eyes but pulled out of Eddie’s arms to undress. “I thought you were supposed to be in charge.”

“I’m in charge right up until your brain says no,” Eddie responded, heading to his dresser across their tiny studio. 

He had plenty of bandanas that would be soft on Gareth’s skin as he tied him up, if he let Eddie try. Eddie thought he might want to have a few close by… just in case. He heard the clunk of Gareth’s belt buckle hitting the floor. When he turned back, he found Gareth standing in his boxers unwinding himself from his binding and grumbling under his breath about it. Eddie stopped to watch for a moment, before realizing he should probably help. 

“Let me,” He said, taking the messily wadded dressing out of Gareth’s hands and making quick work of the remaining wraps. Eddie dropped it in a pile on the floor and yanked Gareth’s boxers down. Gareth made a rather undignified squeak at being stripped bare, but Eddie was herding him towards the bed before he could fuss more.

“Lay down,” He ordered, but Gareth pulled up short. 

“Make me,” He challenged, hands on his hips as if he wasn’t standing buck-ass naked in the middle of their living room-slash-bedroom. Eddie squinted at him. Wasn’t the point of this that he wasn’t in charge?

Oh. Oh, you brat. Shit… Of fucking course his beautiful boyfriend who constantly needed an attitude adjustment would say Make me. Eddie really should have guessed. No one could make Gareth do anything, but maybe that was part of the fun.

“Fine.” Eddie shrugged and threw Gareth over his shoulder, getting him off the floor before he realized what was happening, and dumped him unceremoniously on the bed. Gareth landed with a bounce, all of his soft parts jiggling preciously. God, Eddie loved this boy. 

Gareth’s eyes were black when he looked up at Eddie leaning over him, caging him against the mattress with a hand next to each shoulder.

“Be good or I won’t be sweet,” Eddie growled. 

He hoped Gareth couldn’t see just how hard Eddie was watching him for the tiniest shift towards uncomfortable. If he flinched even slightly or glanced away… anything that made Eddie think he was having doubts, he’d back down. Instead, he watched Gareth’s eyes get impossibly darker and his lips part. Gareth’s tongue darted between his lips to wet them. 

“Are you going to be good?” He questioned, dipping lower. He teased his lips over Gareth’s, not quite a kiss.

“Are you going to give me a reason to be good?” Gareth’s lips brushed against Eddie’s, teasing back in equal measure. 

“Be good and you’ll find out.” Eddie wasn’t sure if he should let himself get lured into Gareth’s game, but damn, it was fun. He watched as Gareth’s mouth twisted in thought.

“Mm, pass.”

Eddie could have strangled him, but actually… He settled his left hand on Gareth’s throat, tenderly holding the fragile shape of it at arm’s length and ever-so-gently pressing him into the bed. His thumb swiped along the side of it, up and down, feeling the throb of Gareth’s pulse as it jackrabbit’d under his touch. Gareth squirmed, but he lifted his chin to surrender to Eddie.

“Shit, okay. Okay, I’ll be good.”

The sight of Gareth on his back, Eddie’s own fingers wrapped around his throat sent most of the blood in his body south. He gave himself a little shake and changed the grip to a caress.

“Okay?”

Gareth nodded as best he could with a hand on his throat, and echoed, “Okay.”

Eddie stroked his fingers down Gareth’s throat again, following them with his eyes until he rested his palm in the center of Gareth’s chest.

“Want me to tie you up?” He offered cautiously. He wouldn’t spring something like that on Gareth just because he was in charge, but if he agreed to it, Eddie would happily do it. But judging by the squirming as Gareth squeezed his thighs together, the thought didn’t offend him.

“Yeah… hands only, though?” Gareth breathed, looking already on the edge of being blissed out, and Eddie hadn’t even touched him, yet.

“Give me your hands, then.” Eddie reached for a bandana and held one hand out for Gareth’s wrists. He looped the bandana around both of them softly, capturing them together, and pushed Gareth’s arms over his head.

“Budge up,” Eddie instructed, waiting for Gareth to wriggle higher on the bed so he could knot the fabric around one of the bars on their headboard. When he’d done so, he tucked an end of it into one of Gareth’s hands.

“If you pull down on this, it won’t move. If you pull that piece to the side, it’ll untie, okay?” He explained, giving his hands a few tugs to demonstrate. Gareth nodded, but his eyes were already glassy and Eddie didn’t trust that he’d paid attention. “Hey, what did I just say?”

“Down, no untie. Sideways, untie,” Gareth paraphrased. It wasn’t the most eloquent, but for someone who looked like they’d already been fucked, Eddie would take it.

“Good boy,” Eddie praised, and Gareth squirmed a little, turning pink. Shit, he’s so cute like this. Look at him!

“Gonna touch you, okay?” Eddie said. He paused, and then very, very lightly smacked Gareth’s thigh when he didn’t respond.

“Okay! Jesus, okay. Yes. Whatever you want. Knock yourself out!” Gareth jolted out of his reverie at the half-hearted blow, quickly agreeing to Eddie’s question so he would just… touch him already. Please.

Eddie sat back on his heels, looking down at his love, sprawled in their bed with his hands tied over his head and looking oh-so-easy to tease. Eddie was struck by a wave of gratitude for the way Gareth handed over control to him so willingly. He wanted to make it worth it.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did the guy tied to the bed have an opinion?” Eddie teased, trailing the knuckles of one hand down Gareth’s side and watching him shiver. “Maybe I’ll take one after I’ve fucked you, huh? Get you looking so pretty and cock drunk.”

Gareth shivered again, this time without Eddie’s touch. Eddie leaned forward onto his hands, bracing an elbow on the bed so he could toy with Gareth’s curls and bringing the other to cup his cheek as he kissed him. Gareth parted his lips obediently as Eddie’s tongue quested along the line of his mouth. Eddie curled his tongue inside, playing the tip of his tongue along Gareth’s for a moment before Gareth tried to battle for domination of the kiss. Eddie pulled back, smirking as Gareth tried to follow his mouth before Eddie was out of reach.

“No. You get what I give you, you don’t get to take what you want,” Eddie chided him. 

He ducked in to give Gareth’s lower lip a sharp nip, pulling back out of reach before Gareth could connect their lips again. Gareth whined, his bitten lip slipping out in a pout. Eddie caught it between his teeth again, holding it with just enough pressure that the threat was clear. Gareth inhaled sharply through his nose, his squirming going still. Curious, Eddie gave an experimental tug and earned the softest whimper he’d ever heard.

“You like when it hurts a little, huh?” He asked, after he’d released Gareth’s lip from between his teeth and soothed it with a little peck. Gareth nodded slowly, understanding dawning across his face as he learned something about himself he hadn’t known before. 

“Want me to hurt you a little bit?”

The nod came very quickly this time, much more certain of what he was agreeing to. Yes. I want it to hurt, please. The fingers that had been twirling a curl around them fisted in Gareth’s hair, dragging his head back to expose the sweet little column of his neck. He nuzzled into the side of Gareth’s neck kissing and licking until he latched onto the spot almost behind his ear, where the mark would be hidden by his hair. Gareth hissed out a shit! and thrashed a little. Eddie didn’t release him until he was satisfied he’d left a mark that would last a week. 

 His next target was just below Gareth’s collarbone, raking his teeth over the skin harshly before soothing the sting with his tongue as Gareth trembled underneath him. When he felt Gareth relax again, Eddie pulled the flesh between his lips and sucked mark after mark, clustering them together into a messy stain that washed across the top of Gareth’s chest. He sat back to admire his handiwork, tracing a finger over the blossoming bruised. 

“Look so pretty like this. Everyone’s gonna know you’re mine.” He cooed, delighting in the tremor that wracked Gareth’s body at his words. He winced internally when he realized that more than a few marks had dipped too low and Gareth was going to chew him out tomorrow morning when he went to bind again.

Eddie glanced down the length of Gareth’s body, watching in amusement as Gareth rubbed his thighs together, trying to get any little bit of friction he could. His hand cupped one hip, thumb tracing a sweeping half-moon arc over his sensitive belly.

“Poor thing, I’m neglecting you, aren’t I?” Eddie purred, enjoying how Gareth writhed needily. “Tell me what you want, pretty boy. Tell me how to make you feel good.” 

“Touch me, please, Eddie, please!” He whimpered, an edge of desperation tingeing his begging. Eddie felt himself fully harden again, cock straining in earnest now. Oh, I like that.

“I am touching you, Gareth,” Eddie laughed. He wanted to draw this out, get him really pleading. Gareth let out an annoyed huff and bucked his hips.

“Fuck me with your fingers!”

“Fuck me with your fingers… what?” Eddie’s smirk widened as he watched Gareth chewing on his own lip, trying to keep a civil tongue in his pretty, kiss-ruined mouth. Eddie could see his fuse burning low from here.

“Please,” He finally spat, like the word was a slur. 

“Only because you said please,” Eddie said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

But he still let his fingers slip into the crease of Gareth’s thighs, sliding up his slit and spreading the slick around. He’d never stop marveling at just how quickly and how generously Gareth got wet, even untouched. Eddie rubbed loose circles over Gareth’s core, teasing a little, while he urged his legs apart. Eddie shuffled into a better position where he could hook one of Gareth’s knees on his shoulder.

Gareth’s hips were rolling subtly in time with the lazy circles Eddie was giving him, chasing the pleasure where he could. He wasn’t complaining, though, just focusing hard with his eyes closed and brows furrowed. Eddie moved his hand down to the entrance, teasing the tip of a finger inside, before dragging his freshly soaked fingers up to play with Gareth’s lips.

Eddie’s fingers were slow but firm, playing the folds between them massaging the sensitive area and letting his fingers ghost over Gareth’s clit occasionally. He watched, mesmerized.

“Feels good,” Gareth whispered, tearing Eddie’s attention back up to him.

“Yeah?”

“It’s not enough, but it’s nice.” Gareth had picked his head up so he could look at Eddie, shoulders straining a little with the shift.

“Is that your way of telling me you want more? Not hearing a please, Gare.” A smile teased its way around Eddie’s lips, revealing one dimple.

“I said it felt nice!” He huffed.

“Still not a please…” Eddie’s hand shifted a little, bringing his focus to the sweet little bundle peeking from between the folds. The tip of his middle finger traced tight little circles around it, dragging a whimper out of Gareth. “I’ll be nice, though.”

Besides, Eddie didn’t see a reason why he should deny himself a taste. He wanted to see how far he could string Gareth along until he was ready to actually beg in earnest. He slipped onto his stomach, groaning as his bulge dragged against the mattress with the movement.

“Keep your legs open or I’ll stop,” He murmured, voice sweet despite the threat. Gareth let his knees fall open in obedience. He’d be good. He’d be so good if Eddie would keep touching him.

The first lick was always Eddie’s favorite. He could lay his tongue completely flat and ease into it, or tease just the tip of it along the seam of Gareth’s center and make him squirm, but no matter what, he finally got Gareth’s taste on his tongue. He opted for a lazy lick this time, dragging the tip of his nose through the mess Gareth had made of himself and nudging at his clit.

Eddie maintained his leisurely pace, nibbling and sucking and licking to his heart’s content, listening to Gareth’s little whimpers somewhere toward the head of the bed. He’d felt the bed shake once or twice as Gareth tugged on his hands. No doubt if they weren’t bound above his head, his hands would be on the back of Eddie’s head to hold him in place. But he was tied, and he was at Eddie’s mercy.

He did acquiesce a bit, slipping his middle finger inside to match his lazy pace. After a few passes, he added his ring finger, loving the feel of Gareth squeezing the digits as he worked them in and out. He crooked them slightly, caressing the place inside Gareth he could almost find by intuition now, noting with satisfaction how his legs began to tremble as he fought with himself to keep his legs in place.

“Good boy, Gareth. You’re being so good. Wanna come for me?” Eddie praised, thrusting a little faster with his fingers, angling for that perfect spot. He could feel Gareth slipping a little closer to the edge with each pass.

“Yeah…” His voice was high and thin, distracted-sounding as he worked so hard to stay where Eddie wanted him. Eddie swirled his tongue around his clit and drew it between his lips for a second, releasing it with a smacking sound.

“Come for me then, baby. Come on my fingers, I wanna see,” He encouraged, mouth back on Gareth to ease him into it. 

Eddie could feel it when Gareth’s orgasm hit him, clenching down on his fingers and flooding around them. His thighs jerked once before yanking themselves back into place, still trying to be so good like he was told to be. Eddie heard just a single, tiny whimper as Gareth came, then his body went slack.

“There you go, pretty boy, look at you. Think you can do that again for me?” Eddie’s fingers were still inside, feeling Gareth pulse around them, but he’d let them go still. He lapped a careful stripe up the length of him, carefully avoiding Gareth’s tender clit this pass.

Gareth hissed at the overstimulation, but he wasn’t writhing away. Eddie pressed a kiss to his clit and chuckled quietly as his boy’s hips jerked and whine escaped. Eddie flexed his fingers experimentally, brushing featherlight across the spongy little spot at his fingertips. 

“Gonna be good and come for me again? Need to hear you, pretty boy.” Eddie set a gentle pace against the sweet spot as he waited. He could already feel the wetness growing again.

“I’ll be good,” Gareth whimpered. He sounded wrecked already, and Eddie hummed in sympathy, lips pressed to his center and sending a little shock wave up Gareth’s spine.

“Keep your legs open, handsome. I wanna look at this pretty pussy.”

That was met with a grumble, which Eddie was happy to hear. If Gareth could bitch about it, he was okay to go again. The pace Eddie set with his mouth and his fingers was much quicker this time, giving Gareth no time to ease back into it. This time, Eddie could feel him jerking against the bandana around his hands again and again, whining Eddie’s name and shaking like an earthquake.

“Tell me no if you need to stop,” Eddie reminded him, lifting his head up to look for Gareth. His face was tucked against one of his own arms, the triceps of both standing out in sharp relief as he pulled on the bandana, but he manage to shake his head a little.

“‘m close.” was all he could get out before white light exploded behind his eyes and left him shuddering and twitching, gasping hard for air as it washed over him. He felt like he’d been slammed onto the bed as it receded, like that time he’d gotten pummeled by a wave and smashed against the sandy sea floor before he could claw his way back up for air. His chest was heaving the same way it had, then.

“You were there, apparently,” Eddie laughed, sitting up and withdrawing his fingers. Gareth made a face as he spasmed around nothing. 

“Shh, don’t fuss. I’ll fill you up again if you want it, but here,” Eddie soothed, pressing the tips of his sticky, dripping fingers to Gareth’s lips. 

He took them in his mouth, sucking them clean. His own taste flooded his mouth, which was something to get used to. He’d liked how girls tasted and liked how Eddie tasted, even though they were distinctly different. He wasn’t sure what he thought about his own, though. Eddie was wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, muffling his laughter as he tried to get clean. 

“Jesus, thought you were going to drown me. Did so good.” He leaned down to kiss Gareth, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Gareth liked how they tasted mixed together, he decided. “How’re your shoulders? You were pulling pretty hard.”

“‘m okay,” Gareth mumbled. He wasn’t even sure he owned shoulders. The only thing he could pay attention to was the heat already beginning to pool in his belly again.

Eddie reached past Gareth’s face to take the end of the bandana from his clenched fingers and give it a tug to free him. One at a time, Eddie brought each hand down to Gareth’s side when it was apparent he wasn’t going to do it himself, laughing under his breath at how useless Gareth was after he came.

“Wanna keep going or need a break?”

“Mm,” He purred, turning his face to nuzzle into the pillow, “Keep goin’.”

“Alright, useless boy,” Eddie laughed, “Think you can stay on your knees for me?”

It took some maneuvering, considering Gareth was living up to his pet name and doing very little to help change positions, but Eddie got him on all fours with some manhandling. Well, he was up on his knees, at least, plush ass in the air, but he was sort of face down in the covers.

“Can you breathe?” Eddie asked, amused with the scene.

“Mmhmm,” Gareth hummed, lazily wiggling his hips. 

“You’re going to smother yourself,” Eddie retorted, ignoring Gareth’s half-assed attempt to distract him. He gathered their pillows up and got an arm under Gareth’s chest so he could lift him up enough to stuff two of them underneath him. Now Gareth was resting on his shoulders, not his face. “God, give you an orgasm or two and you turn into Gumby.”

Gareth didn’t argue with him. “Tie m’up again.”

“You’re gonna be sore if you tie your hands up there again,” Eddie protested, but Gareth crossed his wrists behind his back.

“So don’t. Tie me here.” He made a satisfied noise when he felt the soft cotton bandana wrap around his wrists again and tug firmly into place.

Eddie sat back to survey the scene, idly palming himself through his jeans. Fuck, how did he get so lucky? He needed to get moving, though, if he wanted to get his dick wet before Gareth dozed off like that. Not his thing, if he was being honest. 

He’d already stripped his shirt off after using it for a rag earlier, so Eddie slipped off the bed to undo his belt and slide out of his jeans and boxers. It was his turn to whimper as his cock finally sprang free of its confines. He’d been furiously hard pretty much since he’d first tied Gareth up.

“How you doin’, pretty boy?” He asked as he fished in his nightstand for a condom, stripping it out of the foil wrapper and rolling it on in a stroke.

“I was promised dick, and there is no dick in me,” He laughed tiredly, still a little strung out. At least the feeling was beginning to come back to the rest of his body. Eddie snorted, kneeling on the bed behind him. Gareth’s ass fit so perfectly in his hands as he fondled it. 

“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” Eddie asked, squeezing the soft flesh and watching the blood flood back into his fingerprints, erasing them after a moment. Gareth pressed his hips backward.

“So shut me up,” He challenged.

He wasn’t expecting the sting of Eddie’s hand landing on one ass cheek, reddening it and sending a shock through his system, or for the caress that followed.

“Oh look, that shut you up. Maybe I should beat that attitude out of you until you’re sweet again.” Eddie was leaning forward, over Gareth’s back as he growled in his ear. Gareth could feel Eddie's cock nudge his belly and whined.

“I’ll be good,” He surrendered quickly. 

“I don’t think you will be,” Eddie rasped, his voice making all the hair on the back of Gareth’s neck stand up. Gareth jerked when he felt Eddie’s fingers playing between his legs, tweaking his clit. “I think you keep saying you’ll be good just to get what you want. I think you should beg a little.”

Gareth rocked backward, trying to find more friction, and jolted as Eddie’s hand smacked down on the other side of his ass. 

“Please!” He blurted, ashamed of how fuckin’ desperate he sounded. “Please fuck me, Eddie, please! I’ll be so good, please… Fill me up. I’ll be so good! Please, Eddie!”

Eddie didn’t say anything, and for a moment, Gareth braced for another spank. Instead, he felt the blunt head of Eddie’s cock nudging at his folds, then the sudden burning stretch as his body tried to accommodate Eddie sinking into him. A sob was ripped from Gareth’s chest, his fingers flexing helplessly behind his back. He knew he could take Eddie. He’d done it plenty of times before, but shit, that first thrust always made him doubt if he could. Eddie bottomed out against his cervix, pressing uncomfortably against it, even as the pressure sent tingles through Gareth’s whole body.

In contrast to the painful stretch, Eddie’s hands were stroking his sides soothingly. Mercifully, he didn’t move until Gareth said something, just waited patiently until he was ready. This time, it felt like an eternity before he saw Gareth’s curls stir as he nodded.

“Okay. I’m okay.”

Slowly, Eddie drew back halfway, before driving into Gareth again, rougher than normal. He repeated the motion again, one hand wrapping around Gareth’s wrists for leverage and the other snaking down to play with Gareth’s clit. The pace he set was faster than Gareth would have chosen, but he wasn’t in charge. He didn’t have to choose, he just had to let Eddie take him apart piece by piece until he couldn’t think anymore. Eddie was devastatingly effective at that, it turned out.

Gareth’s next peak took him by surprise—he was toppling over it and spasming around Eddie’s cock before he’d realized what happened. Eddie hardly slowed for him, just long enough to check in and remind him he could tap out. When Gareth refused, Eddie set a punishing pace, snapping his hips into Gareth as he chased his own end. His fingers were getting clumsy between Gareth’s legs and his rhythm was beginning to falter, signaling the rapid approach of his own orgasm. 

“Fuck, Gareth. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so good. You feel so good. God, shit I just wanna stay inside you forever.” Eddie was babbling, the way he did when it was too late for him to pull back. He was teetering on the edge and was going over in another moment. Gareth squeezed around him, delighting in the choked cry as Eddie pressed into him one last time, hips jerking as he filled the condom and the heat of it flooding inside of Gareth. 

Rough fingers drove in tight, quick little circles around his clit and shoved Gareth over the edge again, too, leaving them both whimpering as Gareth’s body, wracked by tremors, milked Eddie for all he was worth. 

Eddie did manage to pull out before collapsing onto his side with a string of soft swears. Gareth was still quivering, shifting his knees apart enough he could fold down and rest his butt on his heels, which was about as far as he could make it to flopping down with his hands still tied behind his back.

“Shit, sorry,” Eddie mumbled, fingers fumbling with the knot to free him. 

He pulled Gareth over sideways, dragging him to his chest to cuddle. He let him, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of Eddie’s fingers in his hair and his arm wrapped around his waist as he came down. Gareth’s head was empty, buzzing slightly with static feedback that seemed to originate from between his legs—but he also couldn’t feel much else of his body besides that.

“How ya feelin’?” Eddie asked, stroking up and down Gareth’s spine idly. 

“No thoughts. Wanna sleep,” He answered, refusing to open his eyes or say more than a handful of words. Eddie had found the off switch for his brain and he wasn’t about to turn it back on until he had to. 

Eddie stretched to look around a little. Their bed was a mess. Gareth had made a puddle dead in the center of it, and was that…?

“Dude, you were drooling,” He chuckled, feeling more than a little proud of that. He’d never seen Gareth get quite so sloppy.

“I’d still be drooling if I was flat on my face,” Gareth muttered, “You come that much and try not to drool.”

Eddie hugged him close, lips finding Gareth’s to kiss him.

“Fuck, you were amazing, Gareth. I love you so much.” Eddie’s voice was filled with awe, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips as Gareth made a half-assed attempt to keep up. “Was it good?”

“I’m gonna have to sit on an icepack, but I don’t think I’m even capable of being stressed out anymore,” Gareth said dryly.

“So that’s a yes?” Eddie prodded. He hoped Gareth would want this again. It didn’t even have to be soon, or all the time. Just… again.

“Yes, Eddie. Yes, it was good and yes, I’ll let you be in charge whenever you want. Okay?”

Eddie pressed a kiss to Gareth’s forehead. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

“Love you, too.”

[unwrittenlibrary]

Fine Line

Summary: There’s a fine line between love and hate and you’re not too sure which side you’re on with Harry anymore. Part Two to What Kind of Man 

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: I said this in the first part & will repeat it. This is purely fictional. This in no way reflects how I feel Harry would handle this situation in reality. I’m really using Harry as a character. DO NOT READ THIS if you feel the situation of cheating and staying together will impact you strongly or offend you. That is not what I want when reading my story. 

Notes: I urge those uncomfortable with cheating to avoid this. I also urge those who dislike this kind of writing to avoid. I came up with this story at a point in my life where my parents were divorcing, I was going through a break up and was lost. I’ve decided to finish this story because I put so much effort into it for it to end unfinished feels wrong. I can’t speak for anybody and how they would handle this situation. 

Thank you for 1000 followers. That is crazy! 

-

You’ve got my devotion. 

But man, I can hate you sometimes.

...

You sunshine, you temptress.

My hands at risk I fold.

-

April. 

The first two sessions had gone by in relative silence. You weren’t sure what to say to answer the therapists questions. You weren’t sure you even wanted to talk at all. 

“Y/N.” You look up startled out of your thoughts. “Do you feel like talking today?” Her eyes are kind and understanding. Her degrees hang behind her head and you zone in on them. Dr. Walsh had been the only therapist who could take you on in April. Any others that you called had informed you their next opening for new patients wasn’t until the end of May. 

You supposed it could have been worse. So far, Dr. Walsh had come across as kind and understanding of your hesitance. She had never forced you to talk and had only tried to get you involved on your own accord. 

“What would we talk about?” You ask instead of ignoring in silence like you had the past two sessions. You can see Harry turn his head to look at you out of the corner of your eye, but you remained focused on the two degrees hanging behind Dr. Walsh’s head. 

UCLA. “What year did you graduate?” You ask before she can answer your original question. “From UCLA.” 

“We can talk about whatever you want. How you two met. Your kids.” You raise an eyebrow and she smiles. “1996.” 

“I thought we were supposed to talk about our issues. Why would we talk about our kids or how we met?” You answer her question. You can tell Harry’s eyes are moving back and forth between the two of you, like he’s unsure if he should get involved in the conversation. 

Dr. Walsh shakes her head. “Sometimes the best place to start is with what makes you two happy. You’re here to work on your relationship, right?” 

The two of you nod. “Then I’m not worried about starting with the most painful part of your relationship. I want to learn about it. If I can learn about your relationship then I have more knowledge on how to help you repair it, if that’s what you want.” 

“Okay.” You agree. You feel some of your tenseness fade away. You were here for a reason. “We went to UCLA too.” 

She nods. “You did? Were you studying the same thing? Is that how you two met?” 

You look down at your fidgeting hands and let out a laugh. “Not quite. I was a creative writing major and Harry was political science. We met in a World History course our sophomore. It was a general requirement class.” 

“Yeah.” Harry nods as if the memory is coming back to him. “Professor Ward.” 

“Mind if I sit here?” You look up and your breath hitches. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Bright eyes and a sweet smile that could take anyone’s breath away. 

You nod hastily. “Yeah. It’s all yours.” You move your notebook over so he has a bit more room on his half of the table.

“Thanks.” He drops his books on the table and flops down into the chair. “Harry.” He reaches a hand towards you and you meet him halfway. 

You offer your name up easily and his smile brightens. “What brings you into a World history course?” He asks quietly as the last bit of students rush into the few seats left up front. 

You smile. “Creative writing majors have to take one broad history course before focusing on any history of writing courses. Ward’s class was the only one with openings that didn’t start at eight.” 

“Creative writing. That’s cool.” Harry’s spinning the pen in between his fingers. “You want to be a writer?” 

You smile nervously and nod. “That’s the goal. What brings you to Ward’s World History?” 

Harry laughs softly. “I’m a political science major, this is just a required gen ed.” 

“Political science. What’s your plan with that? Am I sitting next to a future senator?” You give him a teasing smile. 

“Lawyer.” 

You shrug, “Senators have to start somewhere.” The professor comes in and that halts the conversation from going anywhere else. As Professor Ward goes over the syllabus you see a piece of paper slide across the table towards you. You look over at Harry, but he’s looking ahead with a smirk on his face. 

You unfold the paper and there is a number written in messy handwriting taking up the small page. 

“Bold.” You whisper to him and he shrugs. “I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.” He whispers back. 

“So you both liked each other right away?” You look up as you're dragged out of the memory of meeting Harry. 

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I think so.” 

“Definitely.” Harry agrees. “I’m lucky I was running late that day. The seat next to her was the only good seat left. Plus, she helped edit all my essays. I was a shit writer before her.” 

You smile softly at the memory. “Y/N?”  You look up and Dr. Walsh is watching you closely. 

“That class sucked.” You can’t help but let out a laugh. “We had so many essays. He’s right, he was a shit writer before me.” 

You finally spare a look over at Harry and he’s watching you with soft eyes. “That was our first semester of sophomore year. We were attached at the hip after that.” You look back down at your hands. 

“Did you guys start dating right away?” She asks.

“Pretty much. We started dating right before winter break.”  Harry answers for the both of you. 

She nods as she eyes the clock on the wall. “Does that memory still make you happy?”

You nod. Your memories hadn’t been ruined. But that didn’t really mean anything when you could barely be in the same room as Harry now. “Of course. But… Things are different. We’re not twenty-somethings with no responsibility. We’re parents. Partners. We’re supposed to have each other’s back. And now it feels like we don’t.” 

Harry looks over at Dr. Walsh as she studies you. She was obviously taking in your words and processing a response to them. “I think the biggest question you need to find the answer to is, do you want to fix this marriage?” She finally says looking pointedly at the distance between you two. 

You pause and mull over her question. “Can we fix it?” You ask quietly. 

She shrugs. “I can’t answer that for you. It’s my job to help you find the answer, not give it to you. What I can tell you is; Sometimes people walk out of this with a new appreciation and love. Sometimes people realize it can’t be fixed. Nothing is wrong with either, it’s just up to you two to figure out which one it is.” 

You look over at Harry and find him watching you with hopeful eyes. You knew he wanted to and felt like you both could fix this. 

But you weren’t sure. “I don’t know.” 

-

The drive home is silent for the most part. Music playing softly from the radio as you stare out the passenger side window. 

“I don’t know what to say.” Harry says as he pulls the car into the driveway. He puts it into park but doesn’t turn it off so the music is still playing as he turns to look at you. 

Gemma’s car was parked behind your own. You see the curtain move slightly which is a telltale sign that a child was peeking out the window. It quickly falls back into place when your eye catches Serena’s. 

You shake your head and look back down at your lap. “What is there to say?” 

Harry shuts his eyes and you see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “I want to fix this. I’m trying. Do you want to fix this?” 

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t try and guilt me, Harry. I didn’t cheat, you did. This… This mess isn’t my fault and it shouldn’t be my job to fix it.” 

“I’m not trying to guilt-“ He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “That was a shitty thing to say. I know. I just want to know if we’re gonna make it through this. If you think we have a chance.” 

You look over at him with watery eyes. “I don’t know. All I can think about is you fucking another woman while I was home with our kids. Telling them that you were just busy. That we would have dinner tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.” 

Harry flinches like you’ve hit him. You turn away but don’t stop talking. “I know a month may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things. We’ve been together for seventeen years, so what’s a month?” You laugh humorlessly. “But how long have we been distant? How long have you been staying late and missing dinners?” 

“I don’t know.” Harry whispers and you see him clench his eyes in an attempt to stop tears from falling.

“It’s been months, Harry.” You look around the yard. Your and Persephone’s plants needed maintenance. “We had Jack and then everything changed. We stopped date nights. Family game nights faded from existence. We stopped having sex. I… I don’t know what happened.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything so you sigh. “I’m trying, Harry. It may not seem like it to you, but I’m trying.” You unbuckle yourself and move to get out of the car. 

Harry reaches out and wraps his hand gently around your wrist. “I know.” He stresses the word. “I know you are.” 

You nod and the two of you just watch each other for a moment. You break away from him first. “I’m sure the kids are peeking out the window. We’ve been out here long enough.” 

The both of you climb out of the car silently. The door flies open by the time you reach the second step of your front porch. 

“Mama!” Oliver comes flying out towards you. “Mama. Never leave us again. Baby Jack is crazy.” He grips you tight and you laugh, the tension immediately leaving your body as you hug him back. 

Gemma comes to stand in the entrance with Jack on her hip. She gives you a weak smile and you smile back. “Come on, I’m sure Aunt Gem is dying to go home after watching you crazy lot for two hours.” 

Gemma leaves quickly handing Jack off to Harry and giving you and Harry both kisses on the cheek. “Let me know about spring break, Y/N!” She calls as she rushes out your front door. 

“Spring break?” Harry asks as he bounces Jack in his arms. 

“We’ll talk about it later.” You say sparing a glance down to Oliver, who’s still attached to your leg. Harry nods before moving towards the living room. Oliver follows behind him and you’re left in the front hall alone. 

You take a deep breath before following them. 

-

Harry sleeps in the guest room. You can’t bring yourself to allow him back into the room you two shared. 

His clothes remain in his half of the closet though and his toiletries had remained in place on the bathroom counter, so you saw him every night before going to sleep. 

Dr. Walsh had suggested the two of you used this time to try and reconnect. “You don’t have to sleep in the same bed yet. It’s completely normal for you to need time apart, Y/N. But I do want you two to talk before bed every night, I know you have four kids and it may be your only true alone time to reconnect emotionally before you ever do anything physically, even just sleep.” She had offered at the end of your session after you had admitted you weren’t sure how you felt about Harry and your relationship now. “This is a good way to figure out if you can still see yourself together.” 

You loved him. You didn’t need her to help you answer that question. He was the father of your children. You had over a decade of amazing times together. But you couldn’t look at him without your chest aching. 

“What was Gemma talking about spring break?” Harry sits on the lounge chair you two had placed in the corner of your room. Jack’s bassinet used to be next to it, but he had recently moved into his own room. 

You sit on the end of your bed with your arms crossed over your chest. “Olly has been asking if we could go to Disney World. I was talking to her about maybe surprising him and Serena for their birthday since it falls during the kids break this year.” 

“That sounds really nice.” Harry smiles and you nod. “I’m sure the four of them would love it. I can put in for the week tomorrow. I have a bunch of paid time off I need to use up.” 

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You want to go? We haven’t been on vacation since the beach trip before Jack was born.”

Harry’s face turns stoic. “Of course I want to go. I told you I was going to spend more time with guys.” He walks towards the dresser you have pushed against the wall. “Here, pull your laptop out, let's book this now so we can get a good room.” 

You gape at him. It had only been an idea you were considering for the twins birthday. Although, it was coming up and you were running out of time to make a decision. 

“Are you sure you can get the time off?” You ask instead of listening to his direction. 

Harry nods resolutely. “Can I?” He points next to you and you nod. You lean over to your nightstand, where you had left the computer the night before while writing. 

You push it open. “I’m gonna go get Persephone.” You stand up and hand the laptop to Harry. “She can help plan some stuff with us, so we know what these young kids want.” You give Harry a weak smile and he nods. 

You shake your hands out as you make your way down the hall towards your eldest daughter’s room. You knock softly on the door, “Seph?” 

“Come in.” She calls and you push the door open. She’s got her show paused and is curled into her comforter. “What’s up, mom?” 

“Can you help your dad and I with something?” You ask hesitantly. “I know it’s late, it’ll be quick.” 

Persephone gives you the same dimpled smile Harry has, “Of course. I was gonna be up binge watching this show anyways.” She unwraps herself from the blanket and grabs her phone before following you back to your bedroom. 

“Hey, lovebug.” Harry gives her your favorite smile. One he’s somehow reserved solely for you children. Soft and bright while his eyes shine proudly. 

“Hi, daddy.” She plops herself down next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her forehead and the smile that spreads across Persephone’s face is contagious. 

You take a seat next to her, so she is squished in between the two of you. “You know how Olly has been asking about Disney?” You ask quietly. You and Harry had put the twins down an hour ago, but Oliver was known to sneak away from his room for a cuddle with you. 

She nods instead of verbally answering and Harry pulls up the booking website. “Your mom had the great idea to surprise the twins for their birthday.” 

“Really?” Seph asks excitedly. Your family trips usually consisted of beaches or visiting grandparents. The last time you had been to Disney was when it was just the three of you. You weren’t sure she could even remember most of the trip. 

You bump her shoulder softly with an excited grin. “Really. Jack is old enough that he can get probably through a day there without screaming his head off. Aunt Gem said that she could come to help watch him so you three can have fun.” 

“That sounds awesome!” She lifts her head from Harry’s shoulder and looks at you happily. “What did you need my help with?” 

“Picking out where to stay. You guys are the focus of the trip so we want you to stay where you want to, not us.” You gently take the laptop from Harry and place it in her hands. “So tell us your top three and then dad and I will pick from there so you still get to enjoy some of the surprise aspect.” 

She scrolls through the website for a few minutes while the three of you sit there quietly. You glance over at Harry hesitantly. He’s looking down at your daughter with bright eyes. 

You quickly look away when his eyes move up to meet yours. “Okay. I added the three I liked the most to your favorites! Did you guys need anything else?” 

You both shake your head. “Just keep this a secret. It’s going to be a surprise.” You smile excitedly at your eldest. She had grown so much, but seeing the childlike shine of excitement in her eyes brought you a bounty of joy. She was still your baby. 

Persephone nods before handing the laptop back over to Harry. She presses a kiss to both your and his cheeks before hopping up and making her way towards your door. 

You give her a confused smile when she pauses and turns back around to face you again. She takes in a nervous breath before speaking. 

“It’s really good to be all together again.” The words are quiet and fearful. “Um. I love you guys. Goodnight.” She turns on her heel and bolts out the room and back down the hall. 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and look down at your lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispers. His tone is similar to her’s. Quiet and full of fear. “I love you all. I know I hurt you, but you are all my world. Those kids are what I’m most proudest of.” 

“I know.” You look over at his lap. His hands curled tightly around the laptop still open in his lap. “I never doubted how much they meant to you Harry. I know how much you love those kids.” 

You want to reach out and pull his hand into yours. Something you usually did when Harry was scared or nervous. But you kept your hand firmly planted in your lap, unable to give him that forgiveness. 

“I was never afraid of you not loving them. I was-“ You stop unsure of what to say. What were you afraid of? “I was afraid that I had given so much and you still wouldn’t have chosen me.” 

Harry looks over at you with sad eyes and you let out a humorless laugh. “Harry, I’ve never regretted having Persephone so young. I’ve never regretted being home. But, I just want you to show that… that you appreciate me.” 

“I do appreciate you.” Harry says quietly. “I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.” He places the laptop in the empty space in between you. You watch as he works through what to say, his tension clear in his eyes. 

“But…” He trails off like he’s still unsure of what to say. “I’m here. I want to be here. I want to show you that I appreciate you.” Harry takes a deep breath and places a hesitant hand on your back. “As long as you’ll have me.” 

You take a deep breath. “Let’s focus on this... I want the twins to have a great birthday and for Seph to have a great spring break. Things have been tough for them too. We can figure the other stuff out later.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything, just nods and pulls the laptop back towards him. You can tell he wants to though. That he wants to talk this out and get in deep.

You just can’t bring yourself to do it. 

-

“A family vacation can be very cathartic for couples struggling.” Dr. Walsh gives the two of you a kind smile after you reveal what you had planned for your kids. “But, it can also bring about stress at being in such a small space for such a long time. Especially when you’re still struggling to communicate.” 

“I’m really trying.” You say quietly, on edge at the idea of you and Harry bringing about any stress on a trip meant to be for your kids. “We both are. I think.” 

“I know.” She gives you an understanding look. “You guys do your homework. You said it yourself, your nightly conversations aren’t painful anymore. But talking about small things is only the beginning of strengthening your communication.” 

“So you want us to talk about the affair?” You ask. “The big thing.” 

She shakes her head. “Eventually. Sweeping it under the rug or ignoring it can only cause more tension. But there are other things I’m sure you want to talk about as well.” 

“Like what?” Harry asks. He glances over at you before looking back at Dr. Walsh. 

“Anything either of you felt was an issue.” She explains. “Big or small. Anything you think contributed to your distance. Try to remember, you’re not placing blame.”

“Not even for the affair?” Harry sighs and you shut your eyes. “How can I not place blame? That’s not my fault.” 

“No.” She agrees. “I’ve never agreed with placing blame for something like that on the victim. Do you want to start with talking about it?” 

“No.” You shake your head. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not finding all these so-called small issues so we can then excuse the cheating. I won’t do that.” You say disdainfully. 

“We don’t expect you to.” She glances over at Harry. He looks pained but he nods in agreement. “Of course not.” He says quietly. 

You take a deep breath in before nodding. “Okay, then where do we start?” 

“A lot of times, affairs feel like they come out of nowhere. They do.” She gives you an assuaging look. “But it’s also important to remember that there were issues before it and they’re still there to be worked through. We want to work through the big problem, but oftentimes couples work through that but not other things and end up separating.” 

You nod and take a deep breath trying to think through issues. Things had felt perfect during your pregnancy with Jack. 

You were excited, a fourth child and it was a boy, you and Harry had been hoping for another boy. Harry had even planned the small family vacation to the beach so you could enjoy time together as a family of five before it became six. 

“We argued.” You say quietly. The family vacation slips from your mind as your exhausted tears come to your memory. “Um. I had Jack and I was exhausted and we argued. It was barely even an argument.” 

“He still won’t eat?” Harry asks, coming into the bedroom. He was still in his suit from court and you feel angry heat flush through you at how put together he looked. How well rested and up he looked. 

You shake your head silently. Harry seems to not notice your tense jaw as he pushes his way into the closet to find clothes for the night. You turn to look down at Jack laying restlessly in your arms. Tears rush to your eyes as you stand and place Jack in his bassinet and finally get a look at yourself in the mirror hanging next to the closet door. 

You hadn’t showered since Persephone had left earlier the previous day and after running around to get the twins settled with Gemma and taking care of the baby all day you felt tense and gross. 

Harry comes out and smiles kindly as he watches you step towards the ensuite. “Can you watch him for a moment? I need a shower. I feel gross and it’ll help me relax. My nurse said getting tense makes it harder to breastfeed.” 

Harry looks down at his watch. “Something more important?” You ask before he can get a word out. “No. Just- I was supposed to hop on a conference call with Jeff, I’ll reschedule.” Harry tries to change the tone of the conversation, but you’ve already seen red. “Y/N, go shower.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say instead of moving. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you with your child for half an hour.” You know you don’t mean the harsh words and that you’ll probably regret them all after you’ve taken a break but- “I’m home all day with him, but fuck if I ask you to watch him so I can shower.” 

Harry’s eyes widen at the cold tone. He crosses his arms defensively across his chest as he takes a step back from you, even though he was already several feet away. “I never said I was inconvenienced. You asked a question and I answered honestly. I don’t have a problem spending time with my own child, Y/N.” 

Your turn on your heel and stock into the ensuite and slam the door shut behind you. You hear Jack begin to fuss more and Harry’s whispers as he presumably picks the baby up. There wasn’t a time in the fifteen years you’ve had children that you’ve ever thought Harry didn’t want to spend time with his kids. You still didn’t. But the exhaustion and stress that you felt with Jack was unlike anything you’d felt before and Harry hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“It felt like you weren’t paying attention.” You say quietly. “It felt like you had no idea what was going on.” Dr. Walsh trains her eyes on you as Harry’s eyes flick around trying to figure out what argument you were talking about. 

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. Jack is curled in your arms as he eats and a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. You feel shameful at the words that had slipped out in an attempt to make Harry notice how upset you were. “I know you’re not inconvenienced by our kids.” 

Harry turns his head to look at you. He had been silently typing out emails as you fed Jack, upset but refusing to leave your side. “What’s wrong?” He asks as he slams the laptop shut. 

You want to tell him. How stressed and anxious you felt. How much tougher being with Jack was than any of your other children. How insecure it made you feel. You should tell him.

But. 

“How could I tell you all that and not sound like I’m angry at our child? Not sound like an awful mother?” You choke on the words. 

Harry stares at you with what looks like pity and you turn away. You didn’t want pity. You wanted help. You wanted him to understand. “You don’t sound like a horrible mother. You sound tired.” 

“What stopped you from telling him this?” Dr. Walsh prompts gently as you and Harry fall into silence. Her eyes flicker to Harry as he watches you with the same sad eyes. 

You shrug. “I just wanted him to notice. I wanted to feel like he still noticed me.” You let out a breath. “We love Jack, but Jack wasn’t exactly planned. We weren’t sure if we wanted a fourth and had only just begun talking about it. When I found out I was pregnant and figured out how excited I felt, I knew I wanted to keep him.” You explain to the therapist carefully. “We decided that we wanted him, but he would be our last one.”

You think of the doctors appointments and heavy warnings that a fourth pregnancy could wreck havoc on your body. 

“But I’m not twenty-three anymore and the pregnancy was really tough on me. And Harry knew. So he took care of the kids when I couldn’t and he planned vacations for me before I gave birth and it-” You breath catches. “It felt like you didn’t care anymore once I had him because I wasn’t in danger anymore. But Jack is stubborn and I was struggling.” 

Harry takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to steady your trembling hands. 

It’s a start. You guess. 

-

“I didn’t realize how tough Jack was on you.” Harry says quietly that night. You had been dreading sitting in the awkward silence. 

You shrug. “Babies are tough. Persephone was tough because we were so young. Serena and Oliver were tough because they were twins.” Your baby monitor makes a sound and you glance over to see Jack stretching his arms. 

You sigh and stand up. “Jack was… Jack was tough in a way I wasn’t expecting. Maybe it was because I had four kids all of the sudden or because you started working more. I was exhausted all the time.” 

You leave before he can say anything in response, but you know he’ll follow you to Jack’s room. You push the door open quietly and hear Jack’s soft giggles. 

“Hello, handsome.” You whisper as he looks up at you. “What’s got you awake?” 

You pick him up gently and bring him over to the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room. Harry leans against the door jam. 

You rock back and forth with Jack in your arms and Harry watched with gentle eyes. You look up as Harry begins to speak quietly. “I wish I could take everything back. Just… Redo this past year.” 

You look down at Jack and run a gentle finger over his cheek. “You can’t. You don’t get redos in real life.” 

The room is silent as you rock your baby back to sleep and Harry watches. 

-

We’ll be a fine line.

-

Notes: Title song Fine Line. This is really a filler for the next piece, I needed April to get to May :/

A few things; I have them staying together written. While this has been my plan since I begun writing this part & the next, if it’s something people wanted, I could do two different endings.

Like I said, I wrote this at a low place for me and had always imagined it as some type of closure that I never got from my parents situation or from my ex. Cheaters suck. But, some people do work through it. Some people can’t. That’s the beauty of our autonomy, we decide. I got a lot (and I mean a lot) of messages urging me to be mindful of impressionable people who may read this piece & with that I want to say; Your situation is not this one. Some cheaters will always be cheaters. This is not in anyway trying to convince you that a toxic relationship is okay. Or that cheating is okay. Please remember this is fiction and not meant to do anything other than entertain you! This is a piece I wrote & a piece whose ending I choose. Thank you for reading. I love every single person who read What Kind of Man and thought, I want more of this person’s writing.

(please do not be mean to me, I write for fun & am very emotional thank u)

[heejojo]

thirteen: how it really is

pairing: yang jungwon × female reader with txt and itzy appearances

genre: fluff, angst, crack, smau, flowers shop au

summary: y/n is used to getting what she wants, even if the person is in a relationship because as far as she’s concerned, the person isn’t married yet, but why is it frustrating when the flower shop owner doesn’t pay any attention to her?

wc: 1.3k

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Jungwon tried to stop the way his heart raced faster anytime someone said they needed to talk to him. He searched his brain trying to look for a moment where he had upset you. Did you want to leave? Although you caused trouble a lot, you still helped him when orders got too much and he was grateful for that.

You had been out of it lately, zoning out and forgetting orders. You knew whatever Mirae had said about you wasn’t true in the slightest. You feared that if Jungwon knew, he would be like the rest and think of you in a different way.

Everyone else already had their fixed perception of you in their heads and who were you to ruin it for them? As long as you looked good in the image they had in their heads, it didn’t bother you. For Jungwon, it was different. Not only do you work for him, you already regarded him as your friend.

Jungwon closed the store and sat down next to you. Wiping his hands by the side of his trousers so they wouldnt feel sweatier, he cleared his throat.

“Something was going around on Twitter and I wanted to let you know before you got the wrong idea.”

“I haven’t had the time, let me check now,” he says and brings out his phone and scrolls. He comes across one of Mirae’s comments and turns to you with a confused look on his face.

“That’s what I was talking about,” you tell him with a strained smile.

"Why is she saying those things about you? Are they true?" the emotions on his face are unreadable so you're not able to tell what he's thinking.

"They're true and at the same time, it's not true"

"It can't be in the middle. It's either it’s true or it isn't true"

"That's why I wanted to tell you now. Are you willing to listen?"

"I'm here already, aren't I?" he asks. Seeing your crestfallen look, he tries to reassure you, "I'm willing to listen"

You take in a deep breath, thinking everything through again. You were about to expose one of your most painful memories to him so he wouldn't have the same misconception others had of you.

The air that surrounds both of you becomes tense. Your hands reaching over to hold the handle beside you before beginning the story.

“The people that you see around me now are the people that have been by my side for the past five years. You’ve had this shop for almost four years haven’t you?” he nods and you continue. “I studied law because of my parents. Back then, I had no aspirations and didn’t know what I wanted to be. All I knew was that I enjoyed working. My dad convinced me to study law and I agreed because it was better to do something like that than nothing at all. I had worked as a criminal lawyer for almost a year before I quit my job.”

“I met Yuna in university. She was the first person I talked to and we clicked ever since. At that time, Niki's parents kicked him out for not wanting to study engineering so he stayed with Sunghoon off-campus and worked many jobs and studied hard so he could attend that particular school. He got a scholarship and is studying animation now. He forgave his parents later and talks to them now”

“Jay studied business to work with his dad and he enjoys what he does because he can work from home. He enjoys what he does since he gets to work from home” the thought of your best friend enjoying his life made you smile.

“We all met each other at different times. Jay met Niki and Sunghoon at a convenience store and at that time, it was a friend of mine that introduced us all. The irony was that we’re no longer friends anymore” you stated with a bitter laugh.

“What happened between you guys?”

“At that time, I had a crush on him and everyone knew it. It’s not like it was obvious but I told him about it and he told me that he reciprocated them. Things went well at first, with Sunghoon and Niki faking disgust anytime we did cute things together or Jay and Yuna fawning over it. Then one day, I started getting texts from random people who would call me a homewrecker and when I’d ask them, they wouldnt respond. I told Jay about it and he tried contacting the girls that sent those messages himself but they wouldnt respond to him. I showed Heeseung and he brushed it off saying that they would leave me soon”

“Even though I tried not to show it, I hurt a lot from those messages. After a while, we swept them under the rug. I changed my number and they had stopped the messages. At that time, Heeseung still hadn’t asked me out. Anytime I asked him why he’d say, ‘I’m waiting for the perfect time to do so’. I let it slide. When I’d take the initiative, he’d say we should wait instead. He was messing with my feelings and I let him,” Tears were already welling up in your eyes and your hands started to itch. Gripping the handle of the chair even harder, you decide to continue talking.

“He would get pissed if I talked to other boys and say stupid stuff. Niki was the first one that noticed the way he was treating me and tried to talk sense into me but I wouldnt budge. Jay and Yuna knew because I told them how upset I was over it and tried to counsel Heeseung but nothing was working. I didn’t tell Sunghoon because he would get angry and want to retaliate”

“Heeseung later apologized and things went back to normal. It was nearing the end of that particular semester and Sunghoon took us out for drinks. At the restaurant, I could feel that people were watching me but I couldn’t tell who.”

“After that day, Heeseung took me to the movies to celebrate me getting my summer job but we didn’t even make it into the cinema before a girl came and started calling me names. I was very unsettled because I didn’t know her and yet she said those types of things and Heeseung didn’t bother to defend me. He stood there and when I tried to explain myself, she shouted at me even more. She didn’t shout at the boyfriend that cheated on her, instead of at the person that was unaware of it all. Believe me, if I knew he was in a relationship I would have not gone for him”

The tears that you were trying your best to control came down in full force. All that time when you and he would talk about how much you wanted to be part of each other’s future, he had a future with someone else all along. With a gentle touch, he lifted your hand from the chair and gave it a squeeze which made you cry harder.

“You don’t have to finish the story. I trust you” he said. More tears streamed down your face. It was the first time someone apart from your friends said that they had believed you and it felt satisfying. You didn’t have to continue hiding under your facade anymore. You gave him a soft smile and continued speaking.

“I called Yuna to pick me up and I stayed with her for a month. She told the boys what happened and said I needed to be alone. I cried the whole time I was with her. The boys gave me space for about two weeks before they came to check up on me. They were so angry and wanted to go out. Sunghoon was the scariest. I had never seen him that annoyed before. Jay had to cool him down. That day, we all promised each other that we wouldnt do anything to him and forget about it. After all, he was now with his girlfriend so there was nothing else to worry about. Since then, we’ve been even closer and even if they irritate my soul, they’ll always be like family to me”

Jungwon felt sorry for you and angry at himself. Angry for not being nice to you when he met you and sorry that you went through so much. To date, people still thought of you as a homewrecker or a mistress when you were nothing of the sort.

“He deserves to a beating up” he stated wanting nothing more than to hit Heeseung.

“I’m over it, I wanted to tell you.” Jungwon could tell that you were still not over it, considering the way your body shook.

“Do you want a hug?”

“Yes please,” and he took you in for one. Even if he worked with soil all day, he smelt good. He smelt like comfort and wait...baby powder!?

After a while, you had to ask, “Do you use baby powder?”

“It makes my skin soft” and you giggle.

You don’t know for how long you stay in his arms, all you know is that you feel better.

[atlabeth]

transferred part 17 - atla smau

part 16 | masterlist | part 18 

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know he’s falling for you as well. 

a/n: ahahah a ??? im sorry?? that this took so long?? as you know ive been dying of school and exams and even though ive gotten a couple oneshots out and did my celebration i just have not had the energy to write a whole mf chapter. but it’s here ! after a month of waiting

wc: 4.8k she is a LONG ONE FOLKS prepare yourselves

warning(s): cursing, alcohol and getting drunk, toxic relationships, mentions of cheating, implied emotional abuse, y/n having a breakdown, just an overall mess 

-

“Katara, don’t pull so hard!” You exclaimed, reaching a hand up to touch your scalp. You had entrusted your sister with styling your hair for the party tonight, but only after insistent nagging on her part. She had invited — or forced, as you liked to call it — you over to their dorm to get ready for the party that night together and do all kinds of girl talk. You figured this was a trap to get you to talk about you and Zuko, but it’s not like you would deny an opportunity to hang out with some of your favorite girls. 

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “Just think of it as retribution for all the times that you pulled my hair like this when you did my braids.” 

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and glanced over at Toph and Suki who had already gotten ready but still lounging around the dorm to hang out. “So.” 

“So?” Suki repeated. 

“So when are the questions going to start?” You asked with a small laugh. “I appreciate the invite over here to get ready, but I know you all just wanted to ask me about what’s going with Zuko. So ask away.”

“What happened during that car ride—”

“Has he said anything to you since the kiss—”

“What’s going on at the tea shop—”

“Woah, woah! One question at a time!” you interrupted as they all started going on at the same time. “First off, nothing happened during the car ride. We worked out some miscommunications, and we’re all good. Second — yes, we’ve talked since the kiss, but there’s been nothing groundbreaking. And third, the only thing going on at the tea shop is the tea that we’re serving.”

Toph groaned and shook her head. “Are you serious? That’s so boring!”

“You’re telling me that nothing has happened in the couple of weeks since the kiss? Like, are you sure you’re not in a secret relationship with him and just neglecting to tell us?” Katara asked.

“There’s nothing going on,” you insisted. “As much as I want something to go on, I… haven't’ really said anything either.”

“What?” Suki cried. “You are crazy for him, how have you not tried to make something out of this yet?!”

“I don’t know!” you shot back defensively. “I guess I’m just scared that everything will go wrong.”

“Look,” Suki began as she took a seat on the floor in front of you. “You are kind, funny, gorgeous as hell, and an all around amazing person — and Zuko has it just as bad for you as you do for him! So embrace all of that, get out there tonight, and make a move!”

It had been too long since you had gotten a pep talk from Suki, and it was strangely refreshing. You nodded and sat up. “You know, you’re right! I have just… I’ve been sitting around, waiting for him to make a move because I’m too scared of getting rejected. But I am a delight! I am a lovely person, and I am a delight. Besides, we’re both adults! Even if he doesn’t like me the same way I do—”

“Which he does,” Toph interrupted, which earned her a joking glare.

“Even if he doesn’t like me the same way I do,” you repeated. “We’re still going to be friends. It’ll just be a couple awkward weeks, and then we’ll be back to normal.”

“That’s as close to the spirit as we’re gonna get!” Katara exclaimed as she gave you a high-five.

“It’s about time,” Toph joked as she hit you on the shoulder. “Now, are you gonna get ready or what?”

“Right,” you chuckled. “I did get this super cute dress a while ago that I haven’t gotten a chance to wear. I think it’ll be perfect for tonight.”

“What are you waiting for, girl?” Suki asked. “Show us!”

After showing off your dress, you had finished up the final touches of your makeup and gotten one last pep talk from all of your girls — you were feeling more confident than ever, and you were sure that tonight was the night you would tell Zuko how you felt.

-

Back at the apartment, the boys were going through a similar dilemma.

“Zuko, what are you so scared about?” Sokka was hanging upside down off of the couch, a move he must’ve picked up from his sister, as he questioned his friend.

“I don’t know, everything? She could reject me, she could start to hate me, I could ruin everything that we’ve built over the past few months— you know, it’s not even that bad, what we have right now! What’s the harm in just staying like this?”

“Zuko,” Aang groaned. “I get being cautious, but this is just too much! You’re letting your fears get in the way of you and Y/N being happy. You kissed her, right? And she kissed you back! I’m telling you, if you let her know how you feel tonight then everything will work out. Trust me!”

“Seriously, buddy — it’s just painful at this point. It’ll be kinda weird having one of my friends date my sister again, but somehow, you two being apart is worse. Just tell her already!”

“Okay!” Zuko exclaimed defensively. He finished doing his hair then ran his fingers through it, ruining his work completely. When Sokka gave him a weird look, he shrugged and smiled to himself a bit. “Y/N likes it this way.”

Sokka gestured at him in disbelief and shook his head. “This is exactly what I mean!”

“Okay!” he repeated. Zuko leaned against the kitchen island and nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell her how I feel tonight. After she’s gotten into the party a little, I’ll take her outside and I’ll tell her how I feel.”

“And then you’ll kiss and it’ll be happily ever after!” Aang crooned.

Sokka rolled off of the sofa and stood up, then picked up the car keys from the table. “Someone text the girls, because we’re leaving. I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“You’re gonna do great tonight, Zuko,” Aang reassured as he gave Zuko a pat on the back. “Just remember why you like her in the first place, and speak from the heart. She likes you, so as long as you’re you, things will go great.”

Zuko nodded and gave Aang a small smile. “Thanks. I hope you’re right.”

As the two of them followed Sokka out of the apartment, he took another deep breath and tried to psych himself up. He was sure that tonight was the night he would tell you how he felt.

-

The seven of you regrouped with each other where you would be spending the rest of the night — because a ton of students were expected to celebrate the end of the first semester, the party was being hosted in a warehouse that a couple of kids had rented out for the night. It was more extravagant than the first party you went to in every way — you could hear the music thumping from all the way down the street as you got out of the car.

“Do you think we beat them here?” Suki asked as she helped Toph out. Katara locked the car and looked around, shaking her head as she pointed down the street. Sokka, Aang, and Zuko were all walking up together, having parked a couple cars down.

“They beat us by a minute. Probably broke a hundred different traffic laws in the process.”

“You guys made it!” Aang exclaimed as he gave Katara a kiss on the cheek. “Sokka forced Zuko to let him drive here, said he’s too slow and that he wanted to beat you all.”

“Sounds like him,” Suki joked as she took Sokka’s hand. “You ready, Big Shot?”

“I’m always ready,” he grinned, earning a laugh from you and Katara. Your eyes fell on Zuko as he walked up and you smiled, already starting to feel your cheeks heating up.

“Wow, Y/N, you look…”

“Amazing?” you guessed coyly.

“Breathtaking,” he clarified, the beginnings of a smirk playing on his lips. You laughed and looped your arm through his, and the two of you began making your way towards the party.

The rest of the group shot each other looks that ranged from overjoyed to bewildered to confused. As they started to follow you, they realized that getting the two of you together might be easier than they thought.

-

It wasn’t hard to get into the spirit of the night once you got into the party. There had to be at least a couple hundred people there, but it didn’t take long for everyone to start breaking off into groups. Suki had roped you in karaoke while Aang had taken Zuko to meet some of his friends, giving Sokka, Katara, and Toph time to strategize before setting the plan in motion.

“Okay!” Katara shouted so she could be heard over all the noise. “I don’t think we’re actually gonna have to do that much tonight! Just.. keep him busy for a while and then give him an out, and we’ll do the same with Y/N!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the whole plan. I made it up, remember?” Sokka wasn’t completely focused on the conversation at hand as his eyes darted around the scene, seemingly searching for something. His eyes suddenly lit up and he started to back away from their small group. “There he is! Sorry Katara, gotta go prove to a bunch of freshmen that they don’t know anything and I’m better than them. Aang can handle Zuko!” He grinned at her then ran off into the crowd before Katara could protest.

She sighed and turned to Toph. “Suki’s got Y/N occupied and Aang’s got Zuko, so it looks like it’s just you and me, Beifong. Whaddya wanna do?”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to see your sister embarrass herself with karaoke?” Toph asked.

Katara laughed and grabbed Toph’s hand as she started to lead them through the crowd. “You know what? That sounds perfect. After all the work we’ve done for her and Zuko, I think I deserve to laugh at her for a while.”

-

The first two hours of the party passed by quickly. You spent the first thirty minutes making a fool of yourself with Suki as you sang a couple classics on karaoke — though it was a bit humiliating, you had an amazing time. The second half of the hour went to the beer pong competition that Sokka’s friend Zhen had organized (they did end up winning, so you supposed his pride was well earned), and the next hour was dedicated to dancing, drinking, and letting loose. You had finished the first semester of your masters program, so you felt like you deserved it.

You had stolen away to an emptier corner to give yourself a breather as well as some alone time — you were enjoying yourself, but it was close to claustrophobic in the heat of it all. You were passing the time on your phone when you heard a familiar voice call your name. Your eyes immediately shot up as you tucked your phone into your purse, and you were met with your favorite pair of golden eyes.

“Hey,” Zuko breathed, taking a second to straighten his ruffled clothes. You couldn’t help the smile that played on your lips as you ran a hand through his hair to muss it up even further.

“Hey yourself,” you laughed. “What’s so important that you had to run all the way over here?”

“I have something I need to tell you. It actually is really important, but I think it’d go over better if we weren’t in the middle of all this chaos.”

You would be lying if you said that didn’t make your heart beat a little faster, and as you felt your cheeks heat up you realized that this was your chance. “Uh, yeah. Sure, totally— I actually have something I need to tell you, so that’s perfect!”

“Really?”

“Guess we’re just in tune.”

Zuko smiled as he took your hand and started to lead you through the crowd, but when you heard someone calling your name you froze. The blood in your veins turned to ice, and your grip on Zuko’s hand tightened. He shot you a questioning look but you didn’t even see it.

“No,” you muttered, barely legible. “No, not here.”

You almost didn’t want to turn around to confirm your suspicions. You could’ve ignored it, pretended like you didn’t hear it over the sounds of the party, but there was a voice nagging in your head that you couldn’t just ignore it, you had to find out if he was really, truly here — so you did.

You wanted nothing more to be wrong in that moment — honestly, you thought that you were hallucinating at first. You hadn’t had that much to drink, but maybe the alcohol combined with the sleep deprivation was making you see things. Unfortunately, it was real. You could never forget those eyes.

“Hahn,” you mumbled, the sight taking a moment to register. “Hahn, what the hell are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m here to party, and I’m here to see you.” The grin on his face didn’t waver as he looked you up and down, choosing to ignore the blatant shock on your face.

“You are not here to see me,” you clarified coolly. “We’re not together anymore, and ex-boyfriends don’t make hour-long drives to see their ex-girlfriends, especially ex-girlfriends that they treated like trash.”

“I figured you’d be more happy to see me than this,” he huffed. “Ungrateful as usual.” Hahn seemed to finally notice Zuko and scoffed as he looked at him. “What, is he your new boyfriend? You really downgraded.”

“You have no right to talk to her like that—” Zuko stepped forward to say more but you held out your hand to stop him. You gave him a short nod and stepped forward yourself.

“Hahn, I’m going to ask you one more time.” You could feel your hands shaking, whether it was from rage or fear you didn’t know. Your voice was deadly calm, but it was taking all of your energy to stay that way. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Hahn laughed and crossed his arms. “You’re joking right?” His amusement was a notion that you didn’t share, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably before he continued. “You wouldn’t answer my texts, and you obviously still want me after the things you sent me. My brother had a game here and I came along to see him, so I figured I would pay you a visit as well. You never really officially broke up with me, y’know. Are you really going to let three years go down the drain because of one little incident?”

Now it was your turn to laugh — it was from pure disbelief rather than amusement, though. “Are you serious? Hahn, I left you! I walked out, I moved out, I transferred universities to get away from you! Are you really so dense that you still think you stand a chance based off of some drunk texts?”

“Woah, you think you’re giving me a chance? Y/N/N, this is my olive branch to you — I messed up, I know I did, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fix things up! I could have any girl I wanted back at Kyoshi, but I’m here because I want you — I love you, babe. You know I do.”

“You don’t get to call her ‘babe’,” Zuko snapped. “She doesn’t want you here, so why don’t you just save yourself some trouble and get out of here?”

Hahn snorted and shook his head. “Stay out of this, fireboy. Y/N’s a big girl, she can speak for herself.”

You looked around and saw that a modest crowd was forming around the three of you, and more than a few people were filming. If you didn’t want your relationship problems to become BSSU news, you had to defuse this as soon as possible.

“Listen,” you interrupted. “Zuko’s right, Hahn. It was a mistake to come here — if you’re as smart as you always say, then you would know that. Just.. go home.”

Hahn scoffed as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “No, you listen. I’m trying to do you a favor here, Y/N! I made one mistake, and apparently that was enough to ruin everything we had.”

“You know just as well as I do that it wasn’t one mistake!” you cried. “If you can really get any other girl you want, then do it! I mean, that wasn’t a problem for you during our relationship, so I don’t see why it’s a problem now. We’re not getting back together, so just stop!”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he sneered as he gave Zuko another onceover. “He’s the reason you’re acting like this. I never thought that you would sink so low, but you’ve clearly gone soft. Come on, stop acting like a baby and we can talk this out alone.”

He started to reach for your hand but you pulled it back, and before you knew what you were doing, you had handed your drink to Zuko and your fist was flying right at Hahn’s face. It hurt like hell, but the pure satisfaction from seeing his shock as he recoiled was a painkiller on its own.

“How’s that for soft?” you spat as you rubbed your injured knuckles.

“You.. you bitch!” he yelled, staggering back a few feet as he put his hand over his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding. “This is how you repay me after everything? You should be thankful I’m giving you another chance—” he started to reach for you again, but you slapped his hand away. You cast a glance back at Zuko and saw that he had been joined by Sokka and Katara, and knowing that they were with you made all the difference.

“I don’t want another chance!” you shouted. “You are the one that fucked up, you are the one that made my life hell, and you are not the one that gets to give out second chances! I gave you so many chances, and you messed up every single one! Hahn, I never want to see you again. And if you ever try something like this again, if you ever even try and talk to me again, I will do something so much worse. Now do the smart thing and get out!”

You gave him one hard shove to the chest then turned on your heel and ran. It was the coward’s move, you knew it was, but you couldn’t be there anymore. Tears blurred your vision as you pushed through the crowd to get to the back door, heaving shaky breaths once you finally made it outside. You could hear familiar voices yelling and felt the slightest tinge of joy knowing that your younger siblings were giving Hahn hell.

You leaned against the side of the building, pressing the heels of your hands against your forehead to try and stop yourself from having a full on breakdown. You started to count backwards from twenty in your head as your eyes scanned the area for something, anything, to ground you. It helped in the sense that you weren’t about to lose it right then and there, but you were still on the brink. You slid down the wall into a sitting position and hugged your knees to your chest, the tears finally falling.

This was your university, this was your night, this was for you to make new memories and end your first semester, but like everything else he had come in and ruined it. You had no idea how he even found you, how he knew you would even be here, but it scared you.

“Should’ve blocked you as soon as you… fucking asshole… can’t believe..” you mumbled incoherently as you pulled your phone out with shaky hands, blocking and deleting his number. You dropped your phone in your lap and then put your head in your hands, still trying to process everything that happened. You didn’t even look up when you heard someone coming outside, but somehow you immediately knew who it was.

“Hey, Y/N.. Are you.. okay?” Zuko’s voice was full of sympathy but also caution, as if you were a delicate flower you didn’t want to tear.

“Do I look okay, Zuko?” Your words came out much more aggressive than you wanted them to, and you bit your lip. You had always expected his kindness to be a double-edged sword, something he used just to get something from you, but it never was. Not even once. It made sense after what he told you, and it just made him an even better person in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just.. not. Not in the slightest. Hahn was the last person I expected to see tonight.”

Zuko moved over and sat down against the wall with you then hovered his hand above yours, giving you a chance to pull away. When you didn’t move, he set his hand on yours, filling you with the comforting warmth that you missed.

“You don’t need to apologize. What he did was fucked up.” He cracked a small smile. “Punching him was pretty badass though.”

You wiped a tear away and let out a soft laugh. “It was about time I stood up for myself. Our whole relationship was built off of this sick power dynamic that he loved to wield over me. Things were fine for the first few months, of course. He had this douchebag reputation on campus, but I believed that I could change him, that I could be the one to make him settle down, and— and it felt like I had at first! He was the sweetest guy, and he always brought me things and took me out on dates and it was just- it was just a dream. But I should’ve known he was using me. He had never changed, he had just gotten better at hiding those parts of himself.”

“I had zero sense of self worth and he used that. Told me that if I broke up with him I would never find anyone better, always convincing me that I was the one in the wrong, that if I wasn’t so dramatic then we wouldn’t have all these arguments. And the worst thing about it? I believed him. I believed him every time.” Your voice cracked on your last sentence and you could feel yourself getting choked up again. You swallowed hard and tried your best to push your emotions back down. “I was so terrified that he was right, that I would end up alone if I broke up with him, that I stayed. And that was our relationship for the past three years — built off of fear and manipulation.”

“A lot of people wonder why I transferred here. Sure, I did it for my masters, but Kyoshi has a perfectly fine program. I had already established my life there, I had an apartment, lots of friends, and yeah, I was going to go through with it. I was going to get my masters back there, but I… I did it because of him. I left because of Hahn.”

“Y/N. What did he do?” There was a dangerous undertone to his words, and you placed your intertwined hands on his knee. You didn’t want him to do something he would regret, and more selfishly, you needed him here right now.

You closed your eyes and let the question hang in the air for a moment. You hadn’t told anyone the truth of how your relationship ended with Hahn, and this wasn’t how you had pictured telling Zuko. If you were being honest, you didn’t think you would ever tell him — but he deserved to know.

“He cheated.” You said the words so easily, so simply that you almost shocked yourself. It shocked Zuko too; you could see his eyes widen slightly from your peripherals.

“Yeah. He cheated on me. That’s how things ended. After everything I put into that relationship, everything I did for him, everything he took from me… I still wasn’t enough for him. I got home from class one day to find him in bed with another girl, and… that was it. Something inside me just snapped. That was my moment of clarity — no yelling, no crying, no… anything. I just left. A friend let me crash at her place, and that night I started the process of transferring here. I made a promise to myself that I would never let someone like Hahn in again, and… well, now we’re here.” You laughed humorlessly and wiped a tear from your eye.

It was like the breath had been stolen from Zuko’s chest. He had never fully understood why you were so reluctant to open up to people, but this explained it. You weren’t someone who gave out love freely, but you had to Hahn — and the way he had treated that love made him sick. He had ingrained in you the ideal that you couldn’t be loved, only tolerated, and that was why you had such a hard time accepting help from anyone. The thought alone made him want to find Hahn and get him back for everything he had done to you. The only thing stopping him was that he didn’t want to leave you alone.

“Y/N,” he muttered. “I had no idea. Katara and Sokka didn’t even know.. Why did you hold all of this in?”

“Because I was scared, Zuko! I got myself into this mess with a stupid boy that everyone had warned me about, so I felt like I had to get myself out. Even when things took a turn for the worse, I felt like I couldn’t involve anyone else because it was my fault. It was my fault for trusting someone like him, it was my fault for believing all of his lies, it was my fault for not being good enough. And even after everything he did to me, a part of me still missed him.” You let out a laugh that was a touch unhinged. “There’s something seriously wrong with me.”

“Y/N, look at me.” You tore your eyes up from the ground and at Zuko — his golden irises looked the same as the first time you met him and it was oddly comforting.

“There is nothing wrong with you. Okay? And I know it’s easier said than done, believe me, I know, but you don’t need to be scared. I understand why you were so hesitant to share what happened with Hahn, but you don’t need to be. I don’t know how much weight my words have, but I want you to know that you can always tell me what is happening with you. Whether it’s a life changing event or just what you did that morning, I’ll listen to you. You aren’t alone, Y/N, because I’m here for you. I always will be.”

Your eyes widened with surprise as you stared into his own. This was the most sincere you had ever seen Zuko, even more than the night he told you about his life. There was a nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to kiss him, feel that warmth again, forget about what had happened for just a moment.

But as the familiar prick of incoming tears returned, you knew you couldn’t. You were drunk, on the verge of a complete breakdown, and anything that happened between you tonight would be tainted with the memory of Hahn. So with a concentrated effort, you tore your eyes away from his and swallowed, your throat dry and scratchy from the screaming match you had gotten yourself into.

“I don’t think I can spend another minute here. I hate to ask, but.. can you take me home?” you asked quietly. “You might not be able to tell, but I’m not in a state to do anything right now.”

“Of course.” You gave his hand another squeeze to let him know that he hadn’t overstepped, and stood up. The two of you began the walk back to the car and Zuko let go of your hand, shifting so that he could instead wrap his arm around your back. You smiled softly and leaned your head against his shoulder, the gesture a welcome comfort.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He squeezed your shoulder softly in response, a silent notion that said everything he couldn’t.

Tonight had been a wreck, that much was certain. Your past had resurged in the most painful way possible, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to get through it alone.

But you weren’t alone this time. You had Zuko.

And with Zuko by your side… you knew you would be okay.

-

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atla: @marianne1806

[solar-bear]

Magic In These Moon Cakes

I make my way back home from the market, hands full of dishes and sweets for tonight, and sigh loudly as my swollen ankles protest my actions. I’m barely through the door when I’m faced with a very cross-looking cryomancer.

“Qīn, where have you been? I’ve been worried about you,” Bi-Han says sternly, grabbing the bags from me with frightening ease. He ushers me into our apartment as he sets the bags down on the kitchen counter, not even bothering to acknowledge his brother sitting on the couch.

“Kuai Liang-Gēgē, I didn’t know you’d be here so soon, my apologies for taking so long at the market, the lines and crowds were crazy,” I greet my brother-in-law and rest my hand on the small of my back to try and give it some more support.

“Sit,” Bi-Han commands as he pushes me gently down onto the couch before pulling my legs up and onto the ottoman, giving them immediate relief. “All this walking and stress of shopping and carrying all those bags aren’t good for the baby, why didn’t you just wait for me to get back home from picking Kuai Liang up?”

“Polar Bear, I’m pregnant, not made of glass, besides you hate shopping when the crowds are this bad,” I try and reason with my stubborn husband, but it’s halfhearted at best since I know he’s right. “Besides I felt so bad for not preparing the meal myself this year I felt like I needed to do something at least,” I sigh and rub my ankles.

“The Mid-Autumn Festival happens every year qīn, who cares if we miss moon cakes one year, your health is more important to me,” he grumbles even though I can see him eyeing the boxes of various moon cakes.

“It’s important for the boys, they love the Mid-Autumn Festival, you know the boys all take turns being Hou Yi and defeating all the demons not to mention stuffing themselves full of as much duck and crab they can. Besides they’re not the only ones who wanted duck,” I mumble and slouch down in the chair.

“Don’t forget brother it’s also an important time for families to gather together and appreciate the beauty of the moon,” Kuai Liang pipes up in an attempt to help defend my insistence at celebrating this year.

“Who exactly invited you again?” Bi-Han shoots his younger brother a look before turning his attention back to the groceries, “which ones need to be refrigerating qīn?”

Kuai Liang sulks at his brother’s playful malice, “your wife invited me thank you very much, and my nephews actually enjoy spending time with me.”

“Someone has to,” Bi-Han scoffs as he starts looking through the bags. “How many boxes of moon cakes did you buy qīn?” Bi-Han exclaims in disbelief as he pulls box after box of moon cakes out of the bags.

“Red bags need to be refrigerated and I six boxes, one of each of us, there are so many different varieties now I wanted to try them out. They have Oreo ones now! Oreos! I can’t wait! Oh! Oh! I can’t forget about the custard-filled ones! I also got some of the traditional ham and nut ones since I know your brother likes those ones, and some sesame paste ones for you, I don’t know I just wanted to go all out for the baby. I know shes’ not here yet but it’s technically her first Mid-Autumn Festival and since I’m too far along to really stand on my feet long enough to bake moon cakes and boil crabs and roast ducks and all the other dishes, I maybe went a little overboard.” I excitedly explain to both Bi-Han and Kuai Liang as I affectionately cradle my round belly.

“Well when you put it that way I guess I can’t be too upset, but I still wish you had just waited for me so I could carry everything for you, or at least you could have taken the twins,” Bi-Han grumps while putting the raw crabs in the fridge and the various containers of roasted duck and vegetables.

“Bi-Han I wasn’t going to make the boys get up early on a rare day off of school, they deserve to sleep in,” I yawn and lean back in the chair before I’m startled by a loud shout.

“Gotcha Shūshu,” my youngest announces as he flings himself in Kuai Liang’s lap with a pitiful handful of snow to the face.

“Shìxuě,” I scold him, and no sooner does his name leave my mouth than Kuai Liang’s hands come up to masterfully deflect a punch from Xiǎo-Hán and a kick from Xiǎo-Bīng, “boys!”

Kuai Liang chuckles as he pulls the twins next to him ruffling their hair, “it’s ok Sol, they’re getting much better! Your father must be doing a good job training you boys.”

Xiǎo-Hán is the first to break free from Kuai Liang’s gasp, “we’ve been working hard in between school lessons and soccer practice, look!” He exclaims excitedly as he begins forming an icicle in his palm.

“Yes, very impressive! I trust you’re putting the same effort into your studies too,” Kuai Liang questions quirking an eyebrow.

Xiǎo-Hán gives him a sheepish grin, “I’m doing a lot better this semester than last, so that’s got to count for something right?”

“Yes,” I smile at him knowing how hard he’s been trying, “it hasn’t gone unnoticed.” I turn to Kuai Liang, “Xiǎo-Hán takes after his Father maybe a little too much in the sense that he cares far more about his cryomancy than he does his studies.”

“Who wants moon cakes?” Bi-Han comes into the living room with a tray piled high with the pastries as the boys clamor for the treats.

I frown at him momentarily, “you boys can have one before dinner, and I mean you and Kuai Liang in that too Bi-Han. I don’t want anyone spoiling their dinner.”

“Deal,” Bi-Han agrees as he sets the tray down on the coffee table as he reaches for one of the sesame-filled ones and stuffs it in his mouth.

The boys all grab theirs before Shìxuě toddles over to me with a custard-filled one, “here mama. I brought it to you so you don’t wake up Mèimei and she doesn’t make you grumpy.”

“Thank you my little pumpkin,” I smile and pull him into my lap before taking a bite of the sweet, flaky pastry. I sit back and enjoy my happy little family as I can’t wait for our newest little one to join in next year’s festivities.

“Mama, will you tell us about Chang’e? I wanna hear the part about Hou Yi again,” Shìxuě asks as he bites into his moon cake and snuggles against my growing stomach.

“Would you rather watch Over the Moon again?” I ask grinning at him and humming the opening tune to the movie knowing full well what my son will choose.

“Yes!” he grins, with Oreo cream already all over his face.

“Boys, do you mind turning on the TV and getting the movie set up? We can watch it together before dinner,” I turn to ask my twins who are still trying to wrestle with their uncle. The boys do as I ask and we all settle in to watch the movie before enjoying dinner and basking in the beautiful glow of the full autumn moon.

[yusuke-of-valla]

Two Knights' Tango

Whumptober Day 1 Prompt: "You Have To Let Go"

Summary: Akechi remebers the truth of their current reality.

Word Count: 1303

TW: Cursing, Third Semester Bad End, Akechi being Akechi

AO3

Ren knows that his plans for a peaceful evening with his friends are ruined the second Goro walks in with that smile on his face.

It’s been a while since Goro -- no, Akechi, he is Akechi right now -- has put on that mask. A smile like daggers that doesn’t reach his eyes, his whole body tense with rage at everyone around him. He takes his usual seat at the counter and stares at Ren expectantly.

Ren, uninterested in having this conversation, takes his time making his coffee.

“What do you think?” Ren asks, passing a mug down to Akechi. A floating facsimile of how Morgana used to look smiles up at him, and Akechi makes a face that gives Ren the hilarious mental image of the Detective Prince punching a mug. “Yusuke’s been helping me practice latte art. It’s not as good as his but--”

“What the hell do you think is going on here?” Akechi growls.

“Well it’s Thursday, so we’re chatting before our usual study session with--”

Akechi grabs Ren by the shirt and pulls him close so their faces are inches apart. Despite knowing better, Ren can’t help but hope Akechi will claw his eyes out or something. Really let loose this time.

Instead Akechi lets him go after a second. “Why did you take the deal?” he asks.

Ren locks eyes with him. “Because otherwise you’d die, idiot, and despite what you think I should do, I care about your life.”

“Oh you care,” Akechi spits out. “Of course, that’s why you’ve forced us all to stay in this make believe world you and that damned doctor have cooked up.”

“I mean Maruki does most of the work,” Ren says, “I just play along.”

Akechi slams his fist on the table. “How are you so damn calm about this? Changing people against their will, forcing them to live a life you decided for them? What happened to the righteous leader of the Phantom Thieves?”

“I thought you hated that guy.”

“I will stab you.”

“Couldn’t even if you actually wanted to.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.”

“No,” Ren says, taking a sip out of Akechi’s latte. “You literally can’t. Haven’t you noticed the lack of work, detective?”

“Because Maruki won’t allow it?” Akechi hisses out. “And you’re ok with that?”

Ren shrugs, and Akechi looks legitimately taken about.

“W-what is wrong with you? You don’t even regret it? Sumire is dead because of you. Her heart may be beating but the personality of Sumire, the girl who looked up to you, is gone and replaced with some idealized shadow of a person who never existed. Your friends decided to reject this reality purely because you asked them to, and you just dragged them back-”

“They chose it first,” Ren says with a bitterness he didn’t think he still had. He should probably talk to Maruki about that.

“That’s not what happened and you know it,” Akechi replies. “Maruki never gave anyone a choice. No one except you. ”

“You asked me if I regretted anything?” Ren says. “Of course I do, I regret so many many things. But there’s nothing to be done now.”

“So you’re giving up? You can’t muster the courage to fight Maruki and-”

Ren hates this part.

“Use your fucking brain for once instead of trying to fight all of your problems, Akechi!” Ren snaps. “If this was just Maruki changing the past, this place would be unsustainable. People die, people get hurt, and people hurt each other. Sometimes they hurt each other without malicious intent, which is a bitch because then making everyone happy is impossible and it’s hard to predict when those cases are going to happen. Fixing everything the first time was hard enough, imagine having to do that over and over again with every little issue that could possibly upset someone as time passes.”

Goro’s eyes widen in realization. “So to make sure everything stays perfect Maruki would have to preserve things?””

“Pretty much the only way to do his whole thing without going crazy after the first decade or so.”

Goro takes a breath to steady himself. “And how, exactly, do you know this? Isn’t it just a hypothetical at this poi-”

“How long have you been a third year?”

Akechi opens his mouth to answer automatically, then stops and thinks about it. His hands ball into fists. “How long have we been here? In this reality. How long has this been going on, Ren?” he asks.

Ren shrugs. “Like I told you the last time we had this conversation, I haven’t been inclined to keep track.”

“The last time-- we’ve had this conversation before ?”

“Yep. You don’t exactly take it well, and that pings Maruki and then he, you know” Ren waves his hands in Akechi’s face, “makes you happy.”

Akechi grits his teeth but takes a deep breath. “So how come you remember?”

“Because a long, long time ago I signed a contract that said I’d take full responsibility for my actions,” Ren says, “and I didn’t realize what that really meant. Maruki’s tried to help but I guess there are some things even he can’t do.”

“Then why don’t you try and get back to our own reality?” Akechi asks.

“Because it’s gone. Mementos, it felt huge, but it really only affected Tokyo. I’m sure you’ve figured that out since we’ve only ever heard from targets in the city.”

“Which means Maruki’s reality only affected Tokyo.”

“Finally he puts it together!” Ren applauds.

“Don’t mock me. So while we’ve been here...”

“The rest of the world has moved on. Or destroyed itself. Who really knows. Either way the world we knew is gone,” Ren says, “What if I just condemn everyone to something worse?”

“So you’re just going to hide?”

“I already made a choice to get everyone stuck here. I can’t just change my mind-”

“You already did that when you accepted the deal!”

“And that was a mistake! You want me to just repeat it?” Ren snaps. “God damn it, Akechi. Even if we can break out of here, something that will be much harder than it was back then, who the fuck knows what we’re going back to. Maybe everything’s been destroyed, maybe World War III started. What? You want me to just repeat my mistakes and condemn everyone to something worse?

“It’s not just your choice! Don’t the others deserve a say in which reality they want to live in?”

“They’re fine not knowing. They’re happy either way.” Ren runs a hand through his hair. He’s worked up, again. Why? Why is he always angry when they get to this part? They've had this conversation so many times now -- it never changes -- and it still gets to him. “Just, let go, Goro. Give up on going back. I wish I could.” With that, Ren puts his apron on the counter and heads upstairs, phone out to tell the others to cancel for tonight. “Switch the sign around on your way out.”

~

“So, he’s not going to help us?” Sumire asks when Goro finishes the recording for the others.

Goro shrugs. “He’s given up. Do the rest of you want to continue without your fearless leader?”

An awkward silence settles over the small laundromat that they’d decided to meet in.

Then Haru steps up, eyes burning. “I will reclaim my future,” she says. “Or die trying.”

Slowly but surely, everyone else agrees. Goro doesn’t dare think about the relief that fills his chest at the thought of the others being willing to help him. They’re allies with a united goal, that's all. Besides, he could have done it without them.

A few feet away, hidden in the branches of the tree, a blue butterfly watches. It feels hope for the first time in a long while.

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!yeosang (part 1)

word count: 5k

fluff, smut

(miniseries masterlist)

“if you don’t know the cranial nerves by now pretty boy, you might as well drop out.”

“fuck you! maybe my tutor just sucks and is the world’s biggest asshole!”

“maybe you’re the world’s biggest idiot and just wasting his time.”

“maybe he’s not teaching me properly because he’s an arrogant son of a bitch.”

“maybe you’re too distracted by your fiancé that you can’t even-”

a tray being slammed down on the table halts the boy’s incessant bickering, your harsh look staring between their two bodies making them point at each other immediately. 

“don’t look at me like that, y/n. he started it this time! dickhead told me i should just drop out!” 

“pretty boy said i’m the biggest asshole ever, baby. i think i should be the one who’s more-”

“just shut up! both of you!” you beg, plopping down in your seat next to your boyfriend and rubbing at your temples. “we’ve only been back for three weeks and you two are already like this. how could you possibly be this stressed and annoyed at each other already?”

yeosang looks at you with a smirk on his face but softness in his eyes, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he pulls you close to him. 

his lips brush against your skin as they leave a chaste kiss on your temple; he’s seen you rub at your head like this far too many times during him and mingi’s tutoring sessions throughout the years.

“sorry, but i’m just trying to help him, love,” yeosang mumbles in your ear, suppressing a sigh when you feel his signature smirk against your skin. “poor guy’s in his third year of college and doesn’t know the cranial nerves.”

“i don’t know the cranial nerves. should i drop out too?” you quip, ripping yourself away from him and raising an eyebrow. 

but the boy doesn’t miss a beat, sending you a smile that still sends your stomach fluttering despite his unpleasant behavior.

“please. i’ve wanted nothing more than to support you this whole time.”

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth at the disgusted sneer that crosses your face, the familiar dinging of the coffee shop door welcoming none other than yunho as his eyes roam the store.

mingi’s eyes light up immediately upon seeing the boy, a bright smile on his face that makes you bite back one of your own. yunho finally spots you three and looks at mingi with the same amount of happiness in his eyes, ruffling his now black hair and placing a peck on his cheek when he arrives at the table. 

there’d been a lot of changes within the past three years, all of you moving to a different city and getting used to the changed pace of life. it was more chaotic and busy, for sure, with a lot more responsibilities than your teenage selves had had. 

but almost every moment of it has been fun. 

even through the cram sessions and disastrous drunken nights and fighting between mingi and yeosang, it’s been fun. exploring the city and meeting new people and doing everything you’re supposed to do when you’re young and carefree and finding yourself. 

you remember college had seemed terrifying for all of you back on the beach during senior year, when you hadn’t even told your parents about yeosang or going away to school and things were still up in there for mingi and yunho.

but it ended up being the best decision of your life. living and going to school with yeosang who, at one point, you convinced yourself you hated more than anyone on this earth. 

you were surprised, really, by how stable your relationship was despite the obvious rocky start. your mean, high school bully turned college boyfriend who you had a seemingly perfect relationship with. 

and freshmen year had been hard, you admit. getting used to sharing a space and living together and putting up with each other’s annoying habits. but really, after those first few weeks, the years following had been nothing but bliss. 

days full of studying and tests and internships that left you both beyond exhausted and ready to go home. 

it was the best feeling in the world to be able to go home to someone you loved and wanted to see, yeosang more often than not surprising you with dinner set on the coffee table and a movie paused on the tv. 

he had somewhat tricked you into getting your current apartment, a view far too nice and rooms far too big for just the two of you - but you couldn’t even pretend to be mad on nights when you’d lean on his shoulder and just look out the window at the city lights.

you were both now in your third year of college, only a few weeks into the first semester, which is what’s really making mingi and yeosang’s bickering already that much more concerning. 

usually it’d take until studying for midterms or finals for the boys to get like this. 

“what happened?” yunho’s sweet, calming voice asks, his eyes shifting from mingi to you with an obvious sense of compassion. you can only stare at the boy with a pained expression, mingi and yeosang talking and cursing over each other in the (luckily) empty coffee shop. 

you have to bite back a smile at the obvious change in mingi’s demeanor now, his eyes wide and deep voice softening that makes yeosang scoff in disgust. 

“oh get the fuck out of here. what happened to the mingi in high school who tried to crack my head open?” yeosang asks, taking his coffee off the tray and bringing it closer to himself. “now you’ve turned into a domesticated little bitch.”

“that’s what happens when you ask someone to marry them,” mingi bites back, yunho’s arm tightening on his shoulder so he doesn’t jump over the table. “but you wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you pussy boy? y/n’s gonna have to wait till she’s 50 and you finally grow a pair.”

“that’s funny, since you only asked yunho because you were shitfaced and he’s too damn nice to-”

“shut up!” 

your squeal cuts your boyfriend off immediately, a smirk on the other boy’s faces as they watch him get reprimanded. holding back their laughter and giggles as you threaten to never ever attend another study session with both of them again.

even though what yeosang was saying did hold some truth to it. 

mingi and yunho knew pretty much from the moment they met that they were gonna be together forever, something innate and deep within their souls just connected and meant to be. 

but it was after one too many shots for a lightweight mingi that he popped the question to the boy, all of you out one night and thinking it was just mingi being mingi who always went on about his feelings for yunho.

but you and yeosang nearly fell on your asses when you saw him reaching in his pocket for the ring, the boy saying that he saw it a few weeks ago and just felt the overwhelmingly need to buy it. 

it was cute and spontaneous and authentic in the sense that, even after all the alcohol mingi had ingested that night, it’s like yunho saying yes completely sobered him. 

though you all joke today that the now dark-haired boy only said yes because he felt bad for his drunken boyfriend’s proposal. 

“you know he felt bad for him,” yeosang says, his hand in yours as you guys walk back to your apartment. 

it’s only a four block walk, and a much needed one, after you and yunho couldn’t take the bickering any longer. 

you simply grabbed yeosang by the hand after they started up again ten minutes later and led him out of the coffee shop, your neck snapping back at mingi with squinted eyes when you heard him try to egg the boy on one last time. 

“i also know that they were gonna get married anyway,” you say, craning your neck to look over at your boyfriend challengingly. “so what does it really matter?”

he stops in the middle of the sidewalk to smile down at you, his hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. there’s mirth in his eyes at your prickliness, biting down on his lip so he doesn’t ask if you need to be relieved some way in public. 

“what about us?” he mumbles, snaking his hands down your body to grasp your hand. “we’re gonna get married too, right?” 

you narrow your eyes at his teasing, tightening your hold on his hand just a little too tightly in a way that makes him wince. 

“baby, why are you so mad today?” yeosang whines as you walk into the building, greeting the doorman with a smile as you charge toward the elevator. 

the apartment building is just as ritzy as your home, tall glass windows and marble floors and the magnificent chandeliers you’ve come to learn are something the rich just love; you knew the moment you saw three hanging above the front desk that this was way out of your price range. 

but you’d grown used to the lifestyle and you’ve grown close with the doorman, a sweet older gentlemen who worked there since the early 90s. he’s kept an eye on you and yeosang throughout the years and can tell, right about now, you’ve had enough of him. 

he sends a smirk your way and you give him a knowing look, hearing his chuckle ring throughout the lobby.

“why am i mad? why am i mad?” you repeat, the splitting headache and irritation radiating off of you from hours of grown men bickering back and forth. you click on the elevator button repeatedly, yeosang holding back a smirk at your aggressiveness. 

“maybe i’m mad because, gee, i don’t know, you and mingi are like children and never stop fighting. or maybe because even though i’m supposed to finish work for my class tomorrow, i have a splitting headache and wasn’t able to get anything done.”

the elevator doors open and you step in as the words keep pouring from you, yeosang just watching as your mouth continues to move. he’s grateful you two are the only ones in here right now, solely for the purpose of saving other people from hearing this rant.

not because right now would be the perfect moment to relax you. catch up on old times and and techniques to shut you up the way he did the last time you two were fighting in an elevator. 

“and now you’re not even listening to me! i just don’t know why you have to constantly fight with him. it’s only the third week back, yeosang, and you’re already-”

your back hits the wall before you can even get the next words out, eyes flaring as you watch yeosang’s hand grip your chin. his hold is firm but gentle, the teasing that was once behind his eyes slowly transforming to something darker. 

more lustful and dominating and intense. 

“can you just shut up already,” he mumbles lowly, connecting your lips before you can even get a response out.

and similar to all the times you kiss, you can’t find it in yourself to push him away or not kiss back. instead, you find that the kiss ignites something in you, a passion and intensity as your hands move to curl through his hair. 

he grunts against your mouth when you pull at the strands of dark hair just a little too roughly, not being able to help the smirk on your face. he grips your hips harshly in return, pushing you back harder into the wall before he pulls back and stares down at you. 

his gaze is unwavering and harsh and you’re feeling something twinge in your lower stomach. 

“is this what all your frustrations have been about today?” he mumbles in your ear, his hand ghosting the top of your jeans but refusing to dip in the waistband. “is it because i left you hanging this morning?” 

the smirk against your skin makes you wanna scream almost more than he did this morning, edging you nonstop with his tongue and fingers for the sole purpose that he just wanted to keep you in bed all day and hear your moans of his name.

but then mingi’s fist pounding on the door 15 minutes early broke you two apart, his mouth wet and eyes hazy as he told you you guys would have to finish later. 

“need i remind you those sessions were your idea,” he says, his hand ghosting between your legs and over your jeans. he smirks again when he feels heat radiating from you, chuckling in a way that makes you bite back a growled comment of your own. 

“i was more than happy to eat your pussy all morning before fucking you like a good girl,” he says lowly in your ear, leaning his body into yours. 

you whimper when you feel his hard cock press against you, his words and his voice and everything about him right now quickly making your mind cloud with lust. 

“but you insisted i help him because he’s your best friend and i’ve helped him before. but now you’re the one mad at me?” he hums, a harsh sting on your scalp as he suddenly grips your hair and pulls your head back. “how’s that fair, baby?”

your chest is heaving and breaths are shaky, resisting the urge so badly to either curse him out or fall to your knees; luckily, you compose yourself and don’t do either. 

“it’s not,” you whine, the submissive part he always brings out in you breaking through. 

“i know it’s not,” he says, his eyes moving to the wall to see you’re only a few stops away from your floor. “that’s why when we get home, i’m gonna fuck your pretty mouth. do you understand me?” 

you only stare at him with wide, glossy eyes before you see his jaw tick. his fingers suddenly push into your mouth, the warm wetness making his cock twitch in his pants as you have to suppress your own moan.

“i said do you understand me?” 

“y-yes,” you mutter around his fingers, faintly hearing the ding of the elevator before he’s off your body and walking through the doors. 

the second you’re both inside the apartment, he’s against the door and your on your knees shoving down his pants and taking him in your mouth. you look up at him as you swirl your tongue around the tip playfully, slapping his cock against your mouth before he growls at you to stop playing. 

and when you don’t, just give gentle little sucks that you know are gonna bring him over the edge, he slams into your mouth causing you to gag around him. 

“i told you to stop fucking playing.” 

you wanna smirk at the deep growl in his voice but you can’t as his hips pick up speed and he starts fucking your mouth. 

he’s always the one that seems more composed, a wise ass, teasing boyfriend in public who just lives to get under his girlfriend’s skin - but the second you’re alone, that composure is gone. within a split second, his eyes change and you’re more often than not at his mercy all night. 

he’s so lost in the way your mouth feels around him, warm and wet and your tiny moans vibrating against him, that he doesn’t realize you’re mumbling words until you squeeze his thigh.

his eyes immediately flash with concern, pulling himself from your mouth when he spots your glassy ones. he bends down to meet your gaze, framing your face in his hands as he wipes at your wet, spit-covered mouth.

“you good?” 

your heart softens at how fast he’s able to come out of it, switch from hard to gentle in a matter of seconds when he thinks you’re in pain or not enjoying it. but you’re enjoying it a lot, if the growing ache between your legs isn’t evident of that. 

“yes,” you whine, pulling him up before you lead him over to the couch and push him down. his shirt’s the only thing on as he leans back against the couch, his eyes hazy and lustful as they wrack over your body. 

“i...wanted to ride you,” you tell him quietly, stripping off your pants and soaked thong as he watches you carefully. “didn’t want you to come in my mouth.”

your stomach flutters at the smirk that crosses his mouth, his cock hard and waiting to be relieved as he leans back and you stand before him. his tongue daps at his mouth as you stand there on shaky legs, his hand reaching out to pull you into him. 

you fall on his lap with a squeal before he cups your face, squeezing your cheeks together so your lips jut out. 

“well are you just gonna stand there like an idiot?” he mumbles lowly in your ear, his finger sliding in you. he wants to groan at how wet and ready you are, sticking another one as he teasingly moves his fingers inside of you. 

“or am i’m gonna get to fill this pretty pussy?” 

he feels you clench around his fingers and it’s all he needs to remove them, throwing his head back to rest on the couch when you finally sink down on him. you immediately moan at the feeling of him in you, moving your hips against him desperately. 

you think of how bothered he left you this morning, ripping orgasm after orgasm away from you for the sole purpose of him loving how pathetic you sounded. how teasing he was all the day, aggravating the shit out of you with his arguing and lingering hands. 

how he’d put his hand on your thigh or knee with little regard for how frustrated you were growing throughout the day.

“should’ve known this is what you wanted,” yeosang growls lowly, his hands on your hips as a way to guide your bouncing. “you finally feel good now baby? getting off on my cock?” 

words can’t even leave your mouth because of how overwhelmed you are, face falling in the crook of his neck as you whine into his skin. he feels himself close to coming so he snakes his hand between your bodies, circling your clit a few times before a loud moan leaves your mouth. 

he comes just a few seconds after you, his hot release shooting inside of you and making you whine a little bit more. you can feel his cock pulsing around you as you both try to catch your breath, pulling yourself off of him before collapsing onto the couch. 

you hear his soft chuckle as he takes off his shirt, wiping between your legs gently before gripping your hips. you groan tiredly as he lays back and brings you with him, your body moving against his until you’re comfortably sprawled out on top of him.

he closes his eyes as he feels your faint breathing against him, his hands gently working their way into your sweaty hair. there’s a comfortable silence in the room, the faint smell a pumpkin candle and sex in the air as you bury yourself further into him. 

“how do you feel now?” he mumbles knowingly in your ear, a smirk on his lips as you pinch him in the arm. 

“shut up,” you mumble into his neck, pulling back to look at him. his cheeks are flushed and eyes are soft as they look down at you, pulling at something in your chest that makes you pinch him again.

“why are you pinching me?” he chuckles, tightening his hold on you. 

“because you’re mean,” you whine to him, sitting up to straddle his naked waist. “you had me frustrated all morning and just made it worse throughout the day with your shit.”

“i’m sorry, baby, i really am,” he says, though there’s nothing apologetic about his tone or face. you narrow your eyes at him before slapping his chest lightly, about to get up before he grabs you around the waist.

“wait, wait, where are you going?” 

“i told you i had work to do,” you tell him, knowing your resolve to ditch the work and spend the rest of the night on the couch with him is already creeping up. 

“do it later,” he asks softly, spinning you around and pulling you into him again. “i wanna lay with you and watch tv.” 

you let out a huff as you look down at him, the uncharacteristic softness you were once shocked by something you always see now. 

you could feel insecure or unsure about everything else in the world, your own looks or your abilities at school or if you did the right thing at work, but you’re never not confident about yeosang’s love for you.

it’s obvious in his eyes and the way he touches you, soft and sweet and full of care even though in your steamier moments, he’s rough and very reminiscent of his old, harsher self. 

it’s what makes the aftercare that much more sweet, knowing this is how he is and that your wellbeing is always number one. it takes all of two-seconds for you to cave, cuddling against him as you ask what you guys are gonna eat for dinner. 

it’s over a buffet of chinese food later that night, you in yeosang’s lap and him pecking your neck playfully, that you hear him mumble words into your skin.

“i wanna ask you something, baby.”

he says the words so sweetly and innocently that you can’t help but smile, scooting yourself off his lap so you can sit criss-crossed in front of him. 

“what?” you chirp, white rice in hand as you shovel pieces in your mouth.

he smiles at the way you so messily eat, wiping at the corner of your mouth affectionately. 

“when we were talking about mingi proposing to yunho before,” he begins, his voice uncharacteristically shy and almost hesitant. “and what mingi said about you needing to wait till you’re 50 for me to propose. is that...something you guys talked about?” 

you purse your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing at his cute blabbering, cocking your head to the side as you look at him. 

“are you asking if i wanna get married?” 

“i’m saying we can get married right now, if you want.”

you’d laugh if his face wasn’t so deadly serious, looking at you with soft awaiting eyes like he’s waiting for to say yes so he can run out and buy a ring. 

“yeosang...”

“i’m just saying, baby,” he says, cheeks the slightest pink that makes your heart soar in your chest. “i obviously wanna marry you but i was gonna wait till after we graduated. but if you wanna get the ball rolling, we can totally-”

the giggle you’ve been holding back finally bubbles out of your chest, your head thrown back and hands reaching down to hold his tightly. 

“stop laughing! what the fuck!” yeosang’s deep voice whines, the giggles leaving your mouth only becoming more prominent. 

“i’m sorry, you’re just so cute,” you tell him with a smile, your hand reaching out to smooth through his hair. 

your squealing and your touch only makes his cheeks turn pinker, a groan leaving his mouth as he pushes you to the side playfully. you crawl back to him undeterred before placing yourself in his lap, his face covered with mock annoyance as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

“you’re a little shit,” he mumbles shyly, another giggle leaving your mouth before you peck a kiss on his lips. 

“i have talked to mingi about that before,” you tell him honestly, not wanting him to think you were saying anything bad or hurtful. “just how...if we were to get married, i think it’d be nice. because sometimes i feel like we already are since we like... live together and stuff.”

“and stuff?” he smirks, his heart secretly fluttering at the cute way you stutter. 

he feels the same way too. coming home to you and being with you every night makes everything feel very real and serious. long gone was the couple that would fight and bicker in his pool house over issues that simple communication could’ve fix. 

now you were a couple who talked things out and made sure the other always knew what they were thinking or feeling. 

“yeah and stuff,” you say, poking him in the chest lightly. his deep chuckle sends butterflies through your stomach as you cuddle yourself further into him, resting your head on his shoulder. 

you sigh contently when he starts tracing shapes on your back, his warmth and the gentle lull of his fingers making your eyes close. he hums against your head when he feels you relax in his hold, his lips brushing against your hair in a way that makes you smile against him. 

“do you want kids?” he suddenly asks, lost in the contentment and warmth of the moment. 

it’s not something you’ve ever discussed with one another simply because the topic never came up. but he remembers the day of your first kiss, before the turmoil and the fighting and the kiss itself, the way he watched you with the little girl and felt his cold heart tug in his chest.

the way you bent down to her height and smiled softly at her, picked little rocks and twigs to make the snow girl’s face that he eventually deemed ugly even though you’d given her a talk about ‘beauty being in the eye of the beholder.’

he remembers laughing and smiling and feeling warm at the interaction, even though then he claimed to not like you; he knows now the same way he knew then that that was never the case, especially not when he was watching you with that child. 

“after we get married obviously,” he adds. not even needing to see him to know   there’s still a pink flush on his cheeks. 

“i do,” you mumble against him, your eyes closed with a smile still on your face. the question makes you happy, talk of a life with him always makes you happy. “i think you’d be a good dad. probably the mean parent but that’s okay.”

he pulls you out of his chest with a scoff, looking over your face with such a baffled expression, you can’t help but giggle.

“i’m kidding,” you tease, poking at his cheek lightly. “you’ll be like mingi by then, domesticated and sweet.”

your squeal fills the apartment when he gathers you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he picks you up like it’s nothing and throws you back on the couch. 

“am i not already domesticated?” he asks, his hands next to your head as he leans over you. you smile up at him and shrug your shoulders, his eyebrows raising playfully. 

“maybe a little bit,” you giggle, watching his eyes roll that only makes you smile more. you bring your hands up to brush through his hair gently, watching his eyes close as your nails scrape his scalp. “do you want a boy or a girl?”

his eyes open upon hearing your question, roaming over your face in a way that makes your stomach flutter; you’ll never get used to the way he looks at you or the way your body responds to him.

“hmm, a girl,” he confesses lowly, a smile on his face as he thinks of you with your small child. her hair in a clip and rosy cheeks, your hair color but his eye color with a perfect mix of both your facial features. 

“how many?” 

he smiles as you guys start to picture your imaginary little family, picking out fake names and personalities as well as what they would be like in school. if they’re gonna be well-behaved and smart like you or a conniving, trouble-maker like him. 

“all i know is mingi and yunho are probably gonna beat us, somehow,” yeosang growls lowly, his (mock) disdain for the taller pretty boy something that’s never worn out over the years. 

“that’ll be good then,” you giggle, taking his hand when he stands up and extends his own. “we’ll need all the practice we can get.”

“absolutely. we’ll probably need to wait even a few years after we got married.”

because, for right now, you guys have school to focus on. 

classes and internships and future careers that are waiting for both of you eagerly. 

this dream is something you definitely want but, perhaps, not yet. you guys have all the time in the world, enjoying the freedom and space that comes with just living together and getting through college and the early adulthood years. 

“probably,” you nod, stretching your arms above your head and squealing his name when he tickles your sides.

classes start to pick up over the next month, the weather turning colder, work becoming harder and the amount of sleep you were getting shorter. you’d only gotten a few hours each night this week, working late and hard on a group project for, both, school and work.

so you’re not surprised in the slightest when you wake up one morning feeling like death, nauseous and sweaty before your groan wakes up yeosang. the queasy feeling that rushed up your throat moments later is one you haven’t felt in a long time, not even remembering the last time you had a gross stomach virus. 

yeosang held your hair back as you threw up, rubbing your back gently as you gripped the toilet seat.

“this is reminding me of when you threw up on the ski trip,” he says quietly, humor laced in his tone. 

you can only find it in yourself to throw up your middle finger, collapsing against his chest and whining that you don’t feel good. 

“i know, baby, i’m sorry,” he says, brushing your knotty, sleep-crazed hair back down. “you want me to stay home today?” 

and that’s how you both spend the whole day in bed, you alternating between sleeping on his chest, waking up to puke and then attempting to get down water and soup with crackers.

the nausea goes away when you wake up from your third nap, still feeling tired and achey but nowhere near as bad as when you woke up.

but you’re both still grateful for the day off with one another, cuddled up under the couch with a blanket and his arms wound tightly around you. your eyes start closing again when he starts rubbing your back absentmindedly, eventually falling asleep to the sound of his soft, even breathing. 

he looks down when you don’t respond to his question about the movie, smiling softly at your sleeping face before he moves back a few strands of sweaty hair. 

and it’s at the moment he knows he has to be in love with you, so content and happy with the time he spent with you today, that he’s not even concerned in the slightest about getting your stomach virus. 

part 2

tag list: @mirror-juliet​ 

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children

But now we've stepped into a cruel world

Where everybody stands and keeps score

So here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard

Every lesson forms a new scar

They never thought you'd make it this far

Chapter 1     Chapter 2    Chapter 3    

Chapter 4     Chapter 5     Chapter 6

Chapter 7    Chapter 8     Chapter 9

Summary: Planning for something in theory is easy... putting it into practice? That’s where the weak are separated from the strong. 

A/n: Hello my lovelies! So here is the second part to the last chapter!! If I had posted it all at once it would have been over 20k words so... yeah. I split them up. Also, this gets pretty dark and well, we all know how HBP ends... so I guess that’s a warning. And to add, this went in a completely different direction than I planned, but now it’s closer to my original idea so... Let me know what you guys think! Seriously, I thrive on your approval. (Also, I’d like to see if someone notices a MAJOR problem for these two kids... because I barely caught it myself) 

“Oh, my darling boy,” Narcissa crooned, nearing Draco’s bedside. She took his hand though he was in a spell induced coma and could not hear her.

“I’m so sorry Narcissa,” I teared up. “I...”

“Snape explained it all my dear,” She consoled, reaching out for me. “You have nothing to apologize for,”

I all but collapsed in her arms, breaking down into tears as she held me. Though Abby and Pansy—as well as many others including Ernie, Blaise, Greg, Vincent, and Hannah—had comforted me and offered me a solace, it was different having a mother there to hold me and tell me it was going to be alright.

“It was awful,” I sniveled. “I thought... I thought...” I began to hiccup with the lack of oxygen due to my tears.

Narcissa shushed me softly and rubbed my back in a soothing rhythm.

“You’re alright darling,” Her voice was gentle. “Everything’s going to be alright,”

She stayed for the remainder of the night and came back the next day. I was only allowed a day off from classes before I had to return though Draco had still not woken. Though I knew there would be rumors and whispers, and though I expected to have to retell the harrowing story again and again, everyone already seemed to know. And more surprisingly, each student I came across was sympathetic and kind to me and even towards Draco, wanting to know how he was faring. Yet the thing that took me back the most was the amount of Gryffindors who offered their sympathies to Draco, rather than siding with their own Golden Boy. Even McGonagall offered her sympathies.

And for the most part, I completely ignored Harry. The best I could. Which... well. I’d like to say that I did, but I can’t. To be fair, he did try to talk to me on my first day back, two days after his attempted murder.

“Y/n,” He rushed out in the Great Hall as I sat down with Pansy and Abby.

“You need to stay away from me,” I gritted out, glowering at him. “You’re a coward!” 

“Look, I didn’t know what the spell would do, okay?”

“No! That’s not okay!” I stood. “You almost killed him! And you would have! Why in Merlin’s name would you use a spell if you didn’t know what it did!?” Bristling, Abby had to place her hand on my arm before I drew my own wand. Her gentle hand allowed me a moment to take a deep breath and cam myself, ever so slightly. “Just get out of here Harry. Don’t... don’t talk to me,”

“Come on, mate, let’s go,” Ron pulled Harry’s arm back, sensing the rising tension in his best friend.

“You’re... you’re not really going to...” Abby asked softly as we sat back down. “About being the bad guy?” She was almost timid to ask.

I sighed and shook my head.

“No,” I admitted. “I just said it because I was mad and scared. I’m not gonna go off and join the Dark Lord,” a sad smile played at my lips. “I... I feel like I have no choice... This path was forced into me because of Precious Potter and I... I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to be broken... but I don’t want to be walked on,”

“And you don’t have to be,” Pansy encouraged. “We all have your back,” Pansy nodded to the Hall. “We’re on your side,”

“I don’t want there to be sides!” I dismayed, scrubbing my face. “I don’t want to be divided because we still do have the same enemy and...” I let out a sharp breath in defeat. “When did it all become so complicated?”

Abby said nothing but wrapped an arm around me, soothingly rubbing my shoulder.

“It’ll all work out, you’ll see,” She encouraged, sharing a look with Pansy. “For all of us.”

After dinner, as I always did, I went and saw Draco. His steady grey eyes trailed me as I rounded his cot.

“Hey,” He offered softly as I slipped my hand into his. Despite his many blankets and long sleeves, his hands were still ice cold.

“Hey,” I echoed sadly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” There was little confidence in his voice. “How’s class without me?” I scoffed and stared at the intricate carvings on the pillars of the infirmary.

“It’s not the same... nothing is the same...” The depressing thought left my lips before I could stop it. “I do miss walking to class with you though,” A small smile played at my lips at my gaze returned to him.

Wordlessly I reached out and brushed a few stray hairs from his face, my fingers ghosting over the pale pink scar that ran along the side of his face. Maybe fortune was on our side because though his skin was marred with scars, the spell hadn’t left permanent damage to his senses. His skin was still chilled under my touch.

“You’re still cold,” I murmured. “Do you want tea? Another blanket? I’m sure there’s a warming potion around here somewhere,”

“I’m alright,” His lips tugged upward. “Pomfrey and Snape said that it might happen, because of the Dark Magic...”

Worrying my lip, I nodded and intertwined my fingers with his pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“What’s on your mind?” His question was soft.

“Nothing and everything,” I smiled. “Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing... but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music...”

“Haven’t read that one in a while,” Draco mused softly. “I think they’re having a show in London over the summer holiday...”

I wanted to snap at him. I wanted to say that it was stupid to think about the summer. It was foolish to think we’d survive the semester. That going to the opera shouldn’t be a plan we made on some false hope that we’d actually make it.

But I didn’t.

Instead I entertained the idea. Just for a while. Even if it would hurt later.

“You’d take me then?” I mused.

“Well, of course,” Draco smiled, enjoying that I was playing along. “Of course, Pansy and Abby would come with us,”

I laughed softly at the thought. The false memory of the four of us in some opera house amidst twinkling lights, dressed lavishly, laughing and having fun. I could see myself on Draco’s arm as he held his head high, smiling soft at my antics. I could almost hear Pansy scolding Abby for her poor etiquette. I could almost feel the thrum of the music in my soul and the magic of the performance before me as I was enraptured again by another story.

“I’d like that,” I whispered softly, tears stinging my eyes. 

“Then think of it done,”

A silence fell between us.

“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked softly.

“Would you expect me to say anything but yes?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Curled up in his arms, again I thought of everything and nothing, utterly exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically. Draco still offered a sweet comfort that I had never found in anyone else. A comfort that quelled my anxieties and allowed me to sleep soundly.

“Told you she would be here,” I heard Pansy whisper harshly. “It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve done it,”

“Yes, yes, you’re so smart,” Abby said flatly. “They’re still precious, aren’t they? Even now,”

There wasn’t a response. I shifted through my sleep logged thoughts and blinked my eyes open. Draco was still fast asleep beside me, his mouth hanging slightly open as gentle breaths passed through his lips. Abby and Pansy were forgotten as I watched Draco bathed I the soft morning light.

“Hey Feathers, Dumbledore wants to see you,” Abby nudged my arm. “I don’t think it’s good either.”

Fear and dread struck my heart as I froze.

“Did he say why?” I squeaked out, carefully slipping out of the bed, not to rouse Draco. 

“No, just that it was a serious matter,” Abby frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” I mumbled. “Please stay with him, tell him where I am when he wakes up. And if he tries to come and find me, make sure he doesn’t. He’s still healing,”

Timidly I made my way up to Dumbledore’s office, a list of a thousand things that could go wrong sprinting through my mind, willing them all true. Those thoughts however, changed and funneled when I saw that I wasn’t alone in his office with him. No, Harry, Snape, and McGonagall were all present along with the old headmaster.

“Miss Y/l/n, thank you for joining us,” Dumbledore smiled kindly. 

“Yeah... okay,” I closed the door behind me. “What’s this about?”

“What happened in Myrtle’s bathroom,” Snape informed with a monotone voice. “Though I have thoroughly explained that what Harry did to Mr. Malfoy was much worse and you acted in self- defense,”

“Uh... okay...” My eyebrows furrowed. “What exactly did I do?” 

“What did you do? You used an Unforgivable!” McGonagall dismayed. 

“You tortured me!” Harry exclaimed.

“You attempted to murdered Draco!” I shot back. “What was I supposed to do!?” 

“As I said, she acted in self-defense.” Snape cut the tension with his calmed voice.

“That wasn’t self-defense, that was malicious intent,” Harry growled. “You have to mean the curse for it to do any damage,”

“Oh yes, and I’m sure your use of Dark Magic is completely justified,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “And are you really going to play the victim when I have every right to loathe you?”

“Miss Y/l/n,” Dumbledore interjected. “We are not here to point fingers, but rather here the entire story. Both sides.”

“Why isn’t Sprout here?” I looked around. “She’s my Head of House... shouldn’t she be here?” 

“This isn’t a House matter,” Snape clarified. “This is a matter of the Order,”

“Of which you are a member,” McGonagall finished. “Now please, your side of the story,”

My mind processed this information then I began my tale.

“Draco was having a panic attack, so I led him to the nearest quiet place that I could find—” 

“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?” McGonagall clarified and I nodded.

“I was comforting Draco—walking him through grounding and Harry burst into the bathroom. Draco got defensive of me, drawing his wand, and Harry cast a hex at the two of us... I remember telling Draco to stop... there was water everywhere. And then Harry,” I glanced over to the golden boy who was sulking in his chair. “Cast whatever awful spell that was. I didn’t think. The Unforgivable was the first spell that came to mind...” I paused, drawing in a sharp breath. “Then there was so much blood. Merlin...” I wrung my hands together in a desperate attempt to wash my clean hands of blood that was no longer there. “I did cast the spell, and I’m not going to apologize for it. I’m sorry for hurting you, but not for defending Draco,”

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded. “Well, it seems that all’s well that ends well,” 

Harry and I both sputtered, glaring each other down.

“She should be going to Azkaban!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh, you should really keep your comments to yourself Potter,” I snarled.

“If I remember correctly Mr. Potter, you also cast an Unforgivable at Bellatrix not last year,” Dumbledore raised an ancient eyebrow at a fuming Harry who instantly fizzled out.

“You cast an Unforgivable and you have the nerve to accuse me! Oh, stars above Harry where does it end with you!?”

“That doesn’t count! She was trying to kill me! She killed Sirius!”

I stared at him in quelled anger. “Funny,” My voice was calm and even. “I could have sworn I did it for the same reasons,” I watched the color drain from his face. “But I get it, I’m not the Chosen One, I don’t get free passes, do I?”

“Miss Y/n,” McGonagall warned.

“Am I free to go? I need to get back to Draco,” I looked to Snape.

He gave a seldom and I rushed out of the office, practically running back to the hospital wing. Abby caught me in her arms, stilling me outside the door.

“Hey, talk to me,” She demanded. “What happened?”

“Harry needs to mind his own damn business,” I growled. “He told that I used an Unforgivable against him after he tried to kill Draco. After he already used one last year! And he has the nerve—”

“Y/n?” Draco’s shaky voice was a lot closer than I thought it would be. It had to mean that he was up and walking.

“Dray?” My anger softened to concern and hope. “Draco what are you doing up?”

“You could have given us more of a warning about how much he would fight us after telling him that Dumbledore wanted to speak to you,” Pansy muttered, Draco’s arm slung around her shoulder.

“Sorry?” I offered, taking Draco’s weight, freeing Pansy. “You need to stay in bed,” I scolded him softly.

“How could you think that I would? How could you just leave?” His voice was trembling and uncertain.

“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I led him back to his cot, setting him down gently. “Forgive me?”

He nodded as I pulled the blanket back over him. Pansy and Abby aided me in getting him settled again.

“This is so stupid,” He groaned. “I should be there with you,”

“A few more days, my love,” I comforted softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Then you’ll be back beside me,”

__________________________________

Draco’s eyes met the plated silver. His reflection mocking him. His pale skin was decorated— was that the right word? Ruined, perhaps—with faded pinkish scars.

Of course, his mother had been livid. Visiting him in the hospital wing more days than not until he was medically cleared to go back to class, she was there, pacing, muttering, threatening, demanding.

Your sentiments matched his mother’s but ever since the fateful day that Harry had taken him inches from death, you had gone silent with a cold ruthless fury. A look that only faded from your eyes when they met his. Then adoration was evident. Love and dedication was evident. Kindness.

As he stared at his reflection, the phantom memory of pain danced along his skin.

“Hey there handsome,” Your gentle voice caught his attention. Catching the sight of you in the mirror he turned, leaning against the vanity.

“I don’t remember you ever calling me that before,” He mused, slightly teasing—part of him wondering if you were just saying it to make him feel better.

“I know you Draco,” You pressed off the doorjamb you were leaning against and took his hands. “Self-assured, confident, absolutely gorgeous,” A smirk hinted at your lips. “But I know you’re unsteady right now.” Gently your fingers traced the scars on his hands trailing up his arm making him shudder.

“And what of you?” He asked softly, bringing your hand to his lips pressing a kiss there softly, reveling in the warmth of your skin; something that he had lost, his skin retaining an icy chill with the dark magic that plagued it.

“What of me?” You countered softly. “I’m quite assured that I’m beautiful to those who matter to me... call it vanity,”

A chuckle escaped his lips, your words reminding him of Pansy. “No, that’s no mystery. You are stunning,” Your arms draped lazily around his shoulders as you waited for him to continue. “Are you okay? I know you, and you’ve been... I don’t know. Withdrawn? Distracted?”

He feared the anger that flashed in your eyes until you seemed to blink it away. With the fluttering of your eyelashes the ire turned to sorrow. Your shoulders rose and fell with the deep breath you took.

“I’m tired of being walked on. I’m tired of people underestimating me. Of thinking I’m harmless or weak.” You paused but then your eyes met his pleading, “I know who I am, I really do. I’m just tired of other people not seeing it.”

Draco smiled at you, reaching up and caressing your cheek delicately. “And?” He knew you had more on your mind.

“I’ve had enough of Harry thinking he can get away with anything.”

Draco nodded. Before his prejudices against Potter had been just that—prejudices. Now? Now they went so much deeper. The hurt and pain that Harry had caused to you and him was something that couldn’t be brushed off. Draco’s anger matched yours when thinking of Potter, but maybe the difference was he had never seen it from the outside looking in.

“He almost killed you Draco,” Your voice wavered. “If Snape hadn’t shown up, you would have...” Tears pricked your eyes and you quickly shut them. “I can’t... I can’t lose you... and I never want to feel helpless like that again,”

Draco cupped your face softly, your eyes meeting his as quiet streams of tears trailed down your cheeks.

“And you won’t have to, but my love,” He sighed softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead before drawing you into his arms, “I don’t want you to lose yourself... I know you’re angry, and I know you’re scared... I know you wish it would all just go away, because I do too,” He sighed deeply. “But we can’t lose focus on who we are,”

“When did you become the wise grounded one?” You pouted into his shoulder, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Some girl brought me back down to Earth,” He mused.

“Must have been some girl,” He could hear the smile in your voice.

“Oh, she’s quite wonderful, I think you’d love her. I know I do,”

“Sap,” You accused, smiling up at him.

“And yet you love me anyway,”

“I do,” You pressed up on your toes, your lips brushing against his softly.

The day that he returned to class, as expected, he got plenty of stares. Students gawking at him and whispering behind his back. Not that it was new for him. But maybe you were right—he was unsteady. You still held his hand in the halls though, and still looked at him as you would a piece of artwork. And whenever he became uncertain about his appearance your gently smile and soft kisses created phantom memories that kept him grounded.

“Ginny and Harry are together,” Hannah gave off hand one day at dinner.

Draco’s eyebrows raised in surprised. Your face soured a bit as your eyes drifted over to the Gryffindor table where sure enough Harry and Ginny were sitting together amidst their friends. He pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you a bit closer. The pout didn’t leave your face, but your focus reverted back to your friends before you.

Draco hadn’t spoken to or gone near Harry since he had been back to class. The only real struggle was Potions, but Harry seemed content on ignoring him, and with Ernie as Draco’s partner, Draco’s thoughts weren’t consumed with Harry. Ernie was actually quite pleasant in class, Draco had to admit. Though he was a bit reckless and impulsive in a childlike manor, but he wasn’t impossible for Draco to work with. In fact, Draco almost preferred to work with Ernie because Ernie didn’t treat him any differently after his near-death experience. It was a vein of normalcy.

“This should work,” You lowered your wand, running your hand over the mended Vanishing Cabinet. “We should be done,”

His eyes met yours. There was hope in your warm eyes. Draco gave a seldom nod and grabbed an apple from his bag. It was the first test. Though weeks ago, the apple had made it to Borgin and Burkes, the live finches you had sent hadn’t survived. You mourned the small birds and buried them beneath your tree by the lake.

The apple was closed behind the wardrobes doors and after counting to thirty, your hand gripped tightly in his, Draco opened the door again and saw that the apple had a slice cut out of it. You let out a steady breath and went to the golden wire cage, with gentle grace setting down the small bird into the wardrobe. You closed your eyes, refusing to watch as he closed the door this time. Thirty seconds again, he opened the door, and the small finch was there, staring up at the two of you, an apple slice in his mouth.

You let out a scream of excitement and joy as you gathered the bird into your hands and kissing its small head before setting it back in the cage to enjoy its treat.

The next was a crow, easily transfigured from a goblet. Draco ser the bird into the cabinet and closed the door yet again. The ruffling of wings faded for twenty seconds until he heard frantic cawing and agitated movements. Throwing open the door, the crow flew out. With a quick flick of your wand the crow was a goblet once more, falling harmlessly into the piles of rubbish around the two of you.

“I have to go,” You breathed out, words that he had been dreading.

“Y/n,” He refuted. “We don’t know if it’ll work for larger animals, Pinnae might not make it.”

“It worked for the crow,” You pointed out. “Pinnae can make it,”

“It’s too dangerous,”

“Draco,” You gave him a flat look. “I need to go,” You took his hands into yours. “It’ll be okay, I’ll be back. If not, I’ll just fly back here from Diagon Alley.”

“You make it sound so simple,” He nuzzled his nose to yours.

“Because it is,” You smiled, pressing your lips to his fleetingly. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Please be careful,” Draco dismayed as your morphed into Pinnae, fluttering into the base of the wardrobe.

Then he closed the door, trapping you in darkness. Thirty seconds had never been so long.

There was a knock on the door then it slowly opened. Your smiling face was shining as you crawled out of the cabinet.

“It works,” You breathed out, amazed.

“By Merlin it works!” Draco exclaimed, spinning you in his arms.

You laughed and held onto him tightly. The two of you celebrated with laughter that turned to tears. When the entire world seemed against you two, at least one thing went right.

“I love you,” You sniffled through tears.

“Stars, I love you too,” He breathed in the scent of you deeply, burying his head in your shoulder. “We’re gonna make it,” He was almost hopeful.

“We’re gonna make it,” You affirmed.

“Who’s there?”

You and Draco froze, staring at each other in paralyzing fear. 

“Hello?” The voice called again.

You sagged and let out an aggravated groan. “It’s Trelawney,” Gritting your teeth you let go of him, sighing. “I’ll go see what she wants. You get to Snape and tell him we do this tonight.” There was fierce determination in your eyes.

Draco nodded and watched as you made your way toward the exit. He could hear your faint conversation with the professor. Giving you five minutes head start, Draco slipped from the Room of Hidden Things undetected.

“It’s done,” Draco panted out, catching his breath after nearly running to Snape’s office. “The raid has to be tonight,”

“I see,” Snape rose. “And you’re certain?”

You burst into the office just then, also out of breath. “Harry and Dumbledore are leaving to go find something called—”

“Silencio!” Snape casted the spell on you, proving you mute. Infuriated, Draco drew his wand, stepping between you and the professor. “Calm down, she’s in no harm,” Snape rolled his eyes and lifted the spell. “But be careful with what you speak. It is wise to hold your tongue.”

Fuming, you nodded still.

Draco lowered his wand and took your hand.

“Now, you both know the task ahead of you?” Snape questioned. Silent nods affirmed the question. “Very well. He will be pleased, Draco. Very pleased indeed.” Another silent moment passed. “You have twenty-three minutes.”

Draco took your hand and pulled you into the hallway and along the corridors.

“Go, find Abby. Warn your friends. Warn your house. No one needs to get hurt. We’re already doing enough damage,” His voice was soft and gentle as unshed tears lingered in his eyes.

“I love you,” Your voice broke as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours desperately.

The kiss was hasty and despairing. Though neither of you would admit it, you both knew that it was a kiss goodbye. The warmth of your breath against his was the last of your warmth that he expected. The urgency of your fingers in his hair was the last of your comfort that he sought. The taste of your mouth was the last of your sweetness that he accepted. The softness of your lips was the last of your peace that he pursued.

“Twenty-three minutes,” He breathed out before letting you go and heading down to the murky waters of the Slytherin Common Room.

The Mark on his arm burned and Draco knew that Snape had called the others of the raid. A plan set into motion long ago, now coming to fruition.

____________________________

“Y/n!” Abby called my name as you burst into the common room. “What’s going on?”

My friends were all gathered in the common room as Abby tossed to me something small and shiny. A galleon. My galleon. From D.A. I might have cursed.

“How does he even know?” I chucked the galleon into the fire, watching it ricochet a flurry of ashes. My eyes met Abby’s. “It’s tonight,”

She nodded, knowing what it meant, knowing what was expected of her. A plan made long ago, that was now set into motion.

“Okay, this is going to get very bad, very quickly.” My voice trembled as I looked at all of the horror-struck faces before me. “But please, I need you all to keep the younger years safe. I need you to stay out of the halls until Abby comes and gets you.”

“But what about you?” Ernie asked.

“Look, you’re going to hear things. Awful things about Draco and me. And I can’t deny them, nor should I ask for your forgiveness. But please,” Tears streamed down my face. “Believe that everything I’ve worked for... everything I’ve done has been for this family,” I looked around the room. “I don’t have much of one by blood, but you? All of you... you’ve always been my family. And Hogwarts is my home.”

Abby’s arms wrapped around me and I could no longer hold back my tears. Soon there was a massive comfort pile and I was in the center of it. My friends, my family all there, all holding me close.

“So, what do you need us to do?” Taylor asked. I wiped my eyes and stood tall.

“Someone get word to the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors that they need to stay in their dorm. You all have about fifteen minutes to be completely locked down. Cast protection spells. Silencing spells. Comfort younger years. Distract them. Do not take an order from anyone unless it’s Abby. Make sure she is not under a spell before you listen to her.” I glanced over at her. “This is a grave matter and lives are on the line tonight. One of which is mine. I don’t know what will happen tonight, but I won’t be coming back. Not for some while.”

“But why?” I didn’t see where the question came from.

“It will all be revealed soon. I love you all. And I hope that you all can forgive me after tonight. No matter what you think of me, please, don’t forget: have courage and be kind.”

They all nodded. I rushed up to my room, changing quickly into dueling robes, pulling my silver cloak on.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked, tying her hair back.

“I’ll be fine,” I drew her in for a hug. “Please just get out alive,”

“You too kid,” Abby smiled weakly, taking my hand. “Sister for life,”

“Hufflepuffs for life,” I finished, looking back one last time before taking off through the window and into the night.

With a soft thud I landed on Draco’s floor. He was expecting me. We didn’t embrace another, but instead got to work.

“The Hufflepuffs?” He asked.

“Warned and locked down. Word was sent to Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. The Slytherins?” 

“Secured.” Draco affirmed. “Seven minutes,”

“Okay,” I nodded. “The Mark,”

Draco looked out his opened window and chanted something short and unfamiliar to my ears and I watched as a snake coiled from the end of his wand in a thick green smoke and into the sky merging with a skull. I took his hand, standing beside him.

“I still don’t want to kill him,” Draco confessed. “But I’ll do anything to keep you safe,”

“Draco don’t worry about me. Your mother and I have a plan if things go wrong.” It was an easy lie as I met his confused grey eyes. I smiled softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“The Astronomy tower,” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Go,”

I leapt out of his window again and circled the school, patrolling, watching two figures on brooms land on the tower I was destined for. The quiet night was eerily quiet as I landed, perched on a sill, watching Harry and a frail looking Dumbledore. I almost slipped out of Pinnae because of the regret that fluttered in my chest, but it was easily pushed aside.

I watched as Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, his hand just meeting the door as I heard running footsteps from the door opposite to Harry. My eyes trained and waiting for Draco missed whatever had caused Harry to keep fleeing.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco shouted, and I sprang into action, catching the wand in my claws and settling back on the sill.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, “Good evening, Draco,”

Draco stepped forward glancing over to me then to the empty room. He was making sure that we were alone. I wanted to warn him that Harry was close, but I couldn’t not yet. Draco seemed to figure this out on his own however, as his eyes fell upon the second broom.

“Who else is here?” He demanded.

“A question I might ask you.” Dumbledore eyed me before his attention reverted back to Draco. “Surely you’re not acting alone,”

“No,” Draco said. “I’ve got backup.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said as if Draco’s actions were praiseworthy. “And won’t you join us Miss Y/n?”

Draco glanced to me, panicked. That wasn’t a part of the plan. I wasn’t to be human at all. No one was supposed to know that I was there. Not the Order or the Death Eaters and certainly not Bellatrix.

“I know that it’s you my dear, you might as well join us,”

It was a wildcard neither Draco nor I were expecting. Draco gave a seldom nod, looking utterly defeated. Against my better judgement, I morphed back human, wand in my hand as I took my place at Draco’s side, adrenaline and anxiety threading through my chest.

“You always were such a talented witch,” Dumbledore praised. “I assume you had a hand in this plan, finding a way to get the other Death Eaters into my school?”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice shaking.

“You do complicate things don’t you my dear,” Dumbledore’s eyes fell upon me. “To think if Mr. Malfoy never had you, what would have become of him.”

“I don’t dwell on what might have been,” My eyes narrowed at the frail headmaster. “But rather what is to come,”

“Ah yes, your little job,” A twisted smile curled on his face. “Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” said Dumbledore softly.

Confusion flitted across my face. Did Dumbledore know what we were here to do? How long had he known? Why the bloody hell hadn’t he said anything? A tense silence fell between us and I could faintly hear the fighting of Death Eaters and The Order occur somewhere below. I winced at the mental images.

“Draco, you are not a killer.” Dumbledore smiled. The words sounded cruel coming from his mouth rather than mine. Condescending.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Draco snarled, gripping his wand tightly.

“Oh yes, I do,” said Dumbledore mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley—”

“That wasn’t us,” I interjected. “You really think I’d allow that?”

“Well you are here to kill me, are you not?”

Silently I seethed, gritting my teeth.

“It wasn’t us,” Draco replied coldly. “And we never figured out who it was,”

“Very curious,” Dumbledore mused. “But you were saying . . . yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible...How did you do it?”

Neither of us said anything. The echoes of the fight below were deafening. My blood ran cold, torn between who I needed to win. One to protect Draco and I. One to protect my family.

“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” Dumbledore taunted. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too,”

“The Order is here?” Frowning I met ancient blue eyes. 

“You think I wouldn’t have back up at my own school?”

Betrayal washed through me. I had no idea that the Order was here. That they were the guard against the raid that was merely a plan b. I never wanted them to get hurt. Why wasn’t I told that they were here? Wasn’t I apart of the Order as well? Then it dawned on me.

“You... you manipulated me!” I shouted. “You never wanted me as a part of the Order! You just wanted to keep an eye one me! Never for one moment did you believe in me!”

Draco winced at the realization of my words, as he took my hand, grounding me. 

“Who was I to go against your father’s wishes?”

“My father is dead because he believed in you,” I spat.

“He died for you. Not me.”

I growled dangerously.

“But never mind all of that,” Dumbledore waved the thought as if it were something easily dismissed. “And after all, you don’t really need help... I have no wand at the moment... I cannot defend myself.”

I ran my fingers over Dumbledore’s wand in my hand. It was urging me on, daring me to cast an Unforgivable. Begging me to. If I didn’t get my fury under control, Draco might not have to kill Dumbledore. Because I would.

A silence fell again.

“I see,” said Dumbledore patronizingly. “You are afraid to act until they join you.”

“I’m not afraid!” Draco snarled, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore. “It’s you who should be scared!”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe... So, tell me, while we wait for your friends... how did you two smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I hissed. “We had the plan since this past summer. We could have easily done it by Christmas, but Draco and I deserved another year together at our home,” My words dripped venom as they met the crisp air.

“We had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.” Draco explained because anger claimed my voice, deeming me silent.

“Ah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That was clever... There is a pair, I take it?”

“We don’t have to explain anything to you,” I whispered, my eyes closed as I tried to reign in my anger.

“I see,” Dumbledore smiled. “But I suppose that I was incorrect when I assumed that you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet and acted rashly? It does leave me to wonder who did almost kill Ms. Bell and Mr. Weasley.”

Draco’s grip on my hand tightened. He didn’t like the loose end any more than I did. “If you suspected us, why didn’t you stop us then?” Draco demanded.

“I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders —” 

“He hasn’t been doing your orders, he promised my mother--”

“Of course, that is what he would tell you, Draco, but—”

“But nothing!” I interrupted. “I think Narcissa means a bit more to Snape than you do,” 

“We must agree to differ on that, my dear. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape —”

“That’s marvelous,” I deadpanned. “But trust isn’t the same as loyalty,”

“Isn’t it though?” The old professor seemed as if he were having a hard time standing on his own without the help of the railing. I almost offered my aid. “But as for being bout to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now, we are quite alone, I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted...”

Draco glanced to me and a gave a soft smile. The fear and uncertainty in his eyes caused my anger to morph into a fierce protection.

“I see,” Dumbledore went on. “I wonder why Voldemort has let you live so long Miss Y/n. You really do hinder Draco from what is expected of him,”

“Shut your mouth!” Draco snapped. “She is the cleverest, most brilliant witch I’ve met! If anything, she pushes me past what I should be and into who I am!”

“And who are you Mr. Malfoy? Are you a killer?” Neither of us answered. “There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore. “So, let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“My options!” Draco scoffed. “I’m standing here with a wand—I’m about to kill you—”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.”

Draco’s aspiration to kill Dumbledore might be fading, but my desire for it was growing with each moment that passed as I untangled a web of lies and manipulation in silence about the frail headmaster before me.

“I haven’t got any options!” Draco despaired. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill her! He’ll kill my mother!”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” said Dumbledore. “Why else do you—”

“No,” The fury in my voice was cold and unforgiving. “Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you dare make yourself the martyr. You have no idea the hell Draco and I have been through together. Your chosen one almost killed him for Merlin’s sake, and you have nerve to offer a false kindness? As if you were blameless? As if you understood?”

“No, you can’t,” Draco agreed to the weight of my words.

“Come over to the right side,” Dumbledore continued as if I had never spoken, “and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban...When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, you are not a killer...”

“Like you protected my father?” I whispered softly. “When will you see we are on the side of good. But we’re not on your side.”

Dumbledore did not speak. His mouth was open, still trembling, as if to find the right words to manipulate us back to his side. 

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs, Draco and I turned, in fear. We were both buffeted out of the way as four black robes burst through the door.

It seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle. “Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”

“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too... Charming...”

The woman gave an angry little titter. “Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?” she jeered.

“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore.

“Do it,” said the stranger standing furthest from me. He had a deep raspy voice and almost barked the words. All of my instincts told me to run from this man.

“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore.

“That’s right,” Fenrir barked, and I understood. Fenrir Greyback, the savage werewolf. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”

“No, I cannot say that I am.”

Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely. “But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.”

I choked back a sob, struggling to stand upright. Faces of my family flashed through my mind. Whose blood was on my hands and on his teeth? My world spun as I tried to get it back into order. Draco’s arm wrapped around me, trying to keep me upright.

“Ah, the little harlot,” A familiar voice cooed. “I should have known you’d be the one to stop Draco from his task.”

My eyes flashed up, meeting Bellatrix’s.

“She’s actually helped quite a bit,” Dumbledore interjected. “She has my wand, and she’s the one who made your arrival possible,”

“Shut up you old fool!” Bellatrix sneered. “Now come along little prince, we are short on time,” There was an urgency in her voice that made me hopeful that perhaps the Death Eaters hadn’t won but merely escaped.

“Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us—”

I didn’t take note into who was speaking because just then, from the door that Draco had arrived, came Snape, rushing forward and taking in the scene before him. His eyes met mine then went to Draco’s before settling onto Dumbledore’s.

“Severus...” The plead startled me. My eyes turned to Dumbledore who for the first time tonight was begging.

Snape said nothing but walked forward and pushed Draco and I roughly out of the way. Draco steadied me and we both moved to the back wall, watching the other Death Eaters—even Bellatrix fall back without a word.

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

“Severus... please...” Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. 

“Avada Kedavra!” It wasn’t my voice or Draco’s. But rather Snape’s.

Time around me slowed. Or maybe I could register everything around me all at once.

Dumbledore staggered back, falling, falling, falling down. Bellatrix cackled victoriously. Draco was a solace beside me, clinging to me as if I was his only lifeline.

“Out of here, quickly,” Snape ordered, glaring Draco and I down, a snarled look on his face.

He seized Draco’s cloak and forced him first through the door, with me trailing not far behind Draco. I didn’t bother to look who was behind me. Darkness fell over me and I proved blind. All I could do was cling to Draco’s robe and pray that wherever this darkness led, that there was a light somewhere at the end.

The darkness lifted as the starry night sky stretched before me letting me know that I was on the grounds of Hogwarts, not far from Hagrid’s.

“Go! Off the grounds and disapparate!” Snape ordered. “Go home!”

Draco and I stumbled as we ran through the dark. I wished nothing more than to morph into Pinnae and fly away, but I knew it was impossible. Just as we were at the outskirts of the grounds, Draco had to pull me out of the way of a bright red flash.

“Stop righ’ ‘ere!” A gruff voice called.

“Hagrid!” I called in relief until I realized I was no longer wanted here.

“Y/n?” Hagrid seemed just as confused as I was. “Wah are you doin’ ou’ wiff a bunch o’ Death Eaters?”

“I’m so sorry Hagrid,” I yelled into the darkness as Draco and I kept moving towards our freedom. “Take care of Steve, please!”

The distraction was enough to let a few black robes step foot off campus and disapparate. I turned back, a mistake, and saw Harry sprinting towards us, malice and torture in his eyes.

“I was right about you all along!” He shouted. “Don’t you dare show your face here again!”

Before I could respond, mostly just wanting to scream in frustration, Snape intersected the two of us, allowing Draco to grab my arm and pull me off the grounds.

“Y/n!” He called. “You need to disapparate! Go back to the Manor!” His eyes were wild and wide.

I nodded and wand in hand, I landed softly into the foyer of the Manor.

Of home.

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chapter 11

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[ttttaehyungie]

secret santa | kth x reader

secret santa | kim taehyung x reader

genre | bff2l, fluff

summary | What you thought was an ingenious plan to figure out the perfect gift for your secret santee turns out to take a whole bunch of wrong turns, but with the best outcomes.

rating | NC-17

word count | 6.2k words

warnings | some profanities (it’s like... once LOL), mentioned breakups, it’s Christmas in the context of a pandemic

a/n | Merry Christmas everybuddy 🎄✨ here is a lighthearted (or at least it was until i hit the 6am point of the night while writing slkdjflkjd) lil christmas gift to everyone, but mostly to myself LOL bcos I’m finally posting a fic about the one who owns my heart in its entirety 😌

Christmas without you would just not be Christmas at all

Bright mistletoes up above us, it’s just you and me

-- V, Snow Flower

“C’mon, ____,” Taehyung whines. He plops down on the couch next to you and puts his big, round eyes to good use, giving you the puppy dog eyes treatment.

Well too bad for Taehyung, having known him for the last decade has granted you immunity against his pouty antics. There’s a couple of things that Taehyung employs in a bid to get what he wants. First, he’ll whine. Next, he’ll attempt to reason it out with you… or as much as he can convincingly reason with the pout still laced thick in his tone. If that fails, he’ll try bargaining. And finally, if none of the aforementioned has managed to sway you, he’ll just pout in silence.

“That’s the thing about Secret Santas, Tae, they’re supposed to be, y’know, secret.”

“Well, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me who your santee is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

There it is. Stage two.

You ignore him and return to scrolling through Amazon in what you hope is a nonchalant manner.

“What if I guess who it is?” he tries.

When you don’t reply, he continues, “Is it Hoseok?” He runs a hand through his golden locks in thought. “No, buying for Yoongi is easy because all he ever wants is practical things like planners. You wouldn’t need help with that. Hm… Is it Seokjin?”

He rambles on about different kitchenware that could make a good present for Jin, a ramble that would have been really helpful if only Jin were actually your secret santee.

Taehyung gasps and falls silent, shocking you into finally looking up from your phone. His already round eyes are even rounder, wide as they are in shock. A hand hovers over his mouth as he goes still.

Then, as suddenly as he had gasped, he relaxes into a laugh.

“For a moment, I thought your secret santee was me,” he says, chuckling. A jolt runs through you, and your breath hitches in a way that you pray is unnoticeable. “But you’re too shitty a liar to do that.”

“Hey!” You jab his side playfully and he yelps. “What do you mean? I’m a great liar.”

“That’s a blatant and unconvincing lie right there.”

You fold your arms and turn away.

“I know you’re not actually mad, ____,” comes his sing-song voice, crossing his arms behind his head and reclining into the couch.

Letting out another huff, you turn further away. So when he grabs your hands and pulls you to face him, it startles you a little.

His eyes search yours, and you can’t help yourself from stumbling into their depths. The seriousness in his gaze holds yours intently.

But just as you think he’s about to apologize, his eyes melt into little crescent moons as he grins. “So. Who’s your secret santee?”

His cry comes out muffled under the cushion you hit him with.

An exasperated groan leaves you the moment you close the front door. Tipping your head back to rest against the solid wood, you shut your eyes. You hear footsteps pad closer.

“I take it your plan didn’t succeed?” Irene says, leaning against the wall as she takes in your defeated stance.

“Nope,” you say, picking yourself back up and hanging up your scarf and coat. Your roommate’s still in the same fuzzy pyjamas she was in when you’d left for Tae’s earlier in the day, and honestly, she’s got the right idea. You’re ready to get back into jammies too.

A Lifetime movie plays in the background, and you’d be willing to bet your life’s savings -- not that there’s much when you’re but a struggling student -- that she’s got a mug of hot chocolate to accompany her.

“Another Christmas movie?” you scoff in mock disgust. “How are you not sick of them yet?”

“What else are we supposed to do during a quarantined Christmas?”

“Don’t kid yourself. You’d be doing this even without the quarantine.”

“Hey. If you detest it so much, I heard that Taehyung’s place has many vacant rooms right now.”

You roll your eyes. She got that information from you. Both his roommates were gone from the apartment for the time being, one went back home for the holidays and another had chosen to attend the entire semester from home since everything was online anyway, leaving Taehyung with the luxury of the entire apartment to himself.

Meanwhile, Irene was making full use of the ongoing situation to evade going back home for the holidays. Too much family drama to allow her to binge-watch her holiday flicks in peace, she’d said.

And you? It’s kinda awful, but you’ve chosen to remain in your apartment just slightly off-campus so that you could get a head start on your research for your thesis, the campus library’s offerings much more vast than the local neighborhood library of your small town hometown.

Upon hearing this, Taehyung had offered to stay to keep you company over the holidays. “We’ve spent every Christmas together ever since we were kids, Christmas would just feel too weird without you,” he’d said. “And then we can join the gang’s Zoom Christmas celebration together too! I heard that’s what Namjoon and Jin will be doing since they’re both in the city over Christmas.”

How you’d managed to keep yourself from melting into a puddle of goo at his casual selflessness was a real feat. Taehyung had always been close to his family, and often missed them intensely while you guys were miles apart from home each college semester. So for him to give up a trip back home so you could still have a piece of home with you over Christmas was not a small sacrifice.

“Hellooo?” Irene waves a hand in your face. You jump, jolted out of your thoughts. “Are you actually daydreaming about it? Ooh, staying over at your crush’s place with no one else around… saucy things could happen, ____.”

Although that wasn’t what you were thinking about, you still feel the heat rise to your cheeks at being caught daydreaming about Taehyung. Instead, you give a feeble excuse to get Irene off your back, “I’m just thinking about secret santa gifts again. Ugh, why’d I have to draw him of all people?!”

“Are you sure you aren’t overthinking this because of your feelings? How difficult is it to think of a gift for a guy you’ve been friends with since you were kids? What about his interests?”

“That’s real tough. His hobbies are so whimsical and oftentimes just impulsive. Remember the phase with the film camera? And then the short-lived violin phase? And the piano phase? The only outcome of that phase is him playing the Chopstick Waltz every single time we pass by a piano.”

“Well, what about something that’s been a constant in his life then through all the phases?”

You purse your lips in thought, weighing the thought. It’s not a bad suggestion, but what has been a constant for him all this time?

Coming up with naught, you sigh and turn to head to your room. “I’ll think about it while I get changed back into my jammies.”

When you described Taehyung’s ideas and interests as being whimsical and oftentimes impulsive, this is exactly what you meant.

“Tae, I don’t think it’s gonna fit. Why’d you get such a big one?”

“You just have to believe, ____. We just need faith, trust, and- well actually, maybe just faith and a really good, hard thrust.”

“I feel like there’s so many that’s what she said jokes to be made here.”

“Wasting your energy on that line of thinking is the reason why we haven’t gotten this christmas tree through the door yet.”

With one more solid push, the widest part of the tree finally makes it through the narrow doorway of Taehyung’s apartment, and the two of you go stumbling forward with the extra momentum.

“We did it!” he exclaims, wrapping you up in a hug. “You believed!”

Internally cursing yourself for the way your heart has the audacity to stutter at his touch. The hug is nothing- the warmth that seeps from his body to yours is familiar because hugs are nothing special in your friendship. Even in your grade school memories, Taehyung had always been a tactile person, giving out hugs generously and demanding them in return by simply throwing himself at people to be received in an embrace, coerced or not. As you and your peers grew older, Taehyung became more aware and withheld himself from his sudden hug attacks, especially towards the other girls. But not you. He felt no need to skirt around things with you, and you found a quiet hum of satisfaction in knowing that Taehyung could be his tactile self with you. Hugs were just an expression of your friendship. Nothing more.

That is, until you wanted them to be more.

You shake the thought away. You’ve dealt with this successfully for more than a year now and you can continue on.

Taehyung loosens his hold but keeps his arms around you, leaning back to look at you. The soft puffs in his cheeks and the light creases around his eyes as they bunch up in happiness are just some of the little things you adore about him. The contentment practically radiates off of him. It’s just like him to get this excited over a christmas tree.

“Shall we get to setting it up?” you ask and he nods, releasing you completely then to get to work.

After the two of you find the perfect spot, situating the tree in the corner of the living room by the windows and in reach of a power socket, you grab the bag of decorations.

The oddly small and light bag of decorations.

“Tae?” you ask, pulling out the single box of baubles. “Is this all you got?”

Grinning sheepishly, he nods. “I didn’t have much left for decorations after I chose the tree.”

“Why’d you choose such a big tree then?”

“What’s the point of getting a tiny tree? It’s only nice and festive if it’s large!” he exclaims.

“Well, what’s the point of getting a big tree that will be bare except for six baubles, Tae?!”

“I was thinking we could improvise the decorations.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Improvise?”

“Yeah, like- wait,” he says, running to his bedroom. His voice floats over from the narrow corridor, “just hang on!”

After a little rustling and rummaging, Taehyung emerges with two shoeboxes and a few scarves thrown over his shoulders. Grabbing one of the shoeboxes from him, you open it to reveal a bunch of keychains. Souvenirs from his friends’ travels and some of his own too. In there, you recognize an eiffel tower keychain you gifted him after your family’s holiday to France.

“Here, look!” He grabs a few and begins hanging them on the tree. “Decorations!”

You laugh. It’s a classic Taehyung move, and honestly it doesn’t look half bad. Picking a few keychains of your own from the box, you join him in placing them around the tree.

“What are you going to do about the tree topper?” you ask.

He smirks. “I’ve already got that all figured out.” Unboxing the second shoebox to reveal his collection of polaroid photos, he rifles around till he finds the photo he wants. Brandishing the polaroid of Yeontan, he grins. “Both an angel and a star. Perfect.”

You can't argue with that logic, and you say as much before vacating the step stool so he can clip the polaroid to the top of the tree with a wooden peg. Eyeing the pile of scarves on the couch, you ask, “What about the scarves?”

“Scarves? You mean ribbons?” he says, and begins draping them across the tree. You giggle and reach for one. The soft material is plush, caressing your skin as you run your fingers over the material. It's much nicer than the other scarves, you notice, and way too nice to be stuck on a christmas tree.

“Hey,” you say, “isn’t this cashmere? Are you sure you want such a nice sweater on your tree?”

Taehyung shrugs. “It was a gift from my ex. It’s not like I’m going to wear it anymore.”

His ex. The words hit you like a punch to your gut.

Taehyung's ex, Samantha, was a pleasant person to be around, easygoing and bubbly with a sunny personality that matched him well. At least, from what you could tell based off the first two months of their relationship that you got to witness firsthand. You're not quite sure who exactly initiated the distance -- whether it was from your own courtesy that you gave them space, or whether Samantha had, directly or indirectly, requested for it -- the memories were all too foggy by now.

What you do remember is that one moment they were happy together, and the next they were broken up, the relationship lasting just a little over six months. Taehyung never spoke much about it and when you did probe, he would brush it off with scant excuses that they just figured they weren't compatible after all.

That had been some time in the spring. Briefly, you wonder how many wears the scarf had gotten, and how much sentimental value it held. The quality of the material hinted towards a relationship that had been going strong.

Yet, you muse over it as you drape the luxurious material over the prickly christmas tree, Taehyung brushed it off with such brashness that spoke otherwise.

“Hey,” Taehyung breaks the silence that has fallen between you, clearing his throat in a self-conscious manner as if he’s feeling guilty over the awkward turn that the conversation had taken. You look at him, half-hidden behind the tree pines, his eyes pensive. Maybe he’ll finally open up about the relationship -- it’s been eight months after all. But then he flashes his usual elfin grin. “Any luck with your secret santee gift yet?”

You groan, partly because no, you’re still clueless and stuck on what to get him, and partly because he’s once again evaded the topic of his ex.

The incessant buzzing of your phone gets ignored, vibrating almost violently in its spot on the tinyass coffee table next to your feet which you’ve kicked up ever so demurely. The consecutive, rapid-fire notifications can only be from an overly enthusiastic Taehyung.

Irene nudges foot with her own socked one. “Aren’t you gonna check your phone? I can pause the movie if you want.”

“Nah, I’ve watched Home Alone enough times to not care about missing anything. And it’s probably just Tae being all excited about secret santa gift suggestions.”

“Ooh, how’s that going? Finally got him to spill what he might want?”

An exasperated sigh escapes you. “No, he’s sending me individualized suggestions for everyone that are so well thought out and personalized that I can’t get them for anyone else.”

Grabbing your still-buzzing phone, you flick through your texts. Just as you’d predicted, Tae’s sent you a bunch of Christmas socks he found on Amazon that he thinks would make a good addition to Jin’s collection of festive socks, a set of really nice paints that would pair well with Yoongi’s newfound interest in painting, and an anthology of time-travel short stories that he thinks would fascinate Namjoon.

“Hm, d’you think he’s called your bluff? Intentionally sending you suggestions that wouldn’t be helpful?”

You shake your head, frowning. “Tae’s not like that. Honestly, it was just a bad move on my part, hoping that he would give some generic gift suggestion that would let slip what he really wants. Tae is too thoughtful to get people generic gifts. He puts his heart and soul into the presents he buys for others.”

Reaching over, Irene pinches your cheek lightly as she coos at you, “Awww, you’re so in love with him. I can feel the cavities forming.”

“Pretty sure those are from the hot chocolate with extra marshmallows you love so much,” you say, tipping your chin in a gesture to the mug in her hands.

Irene sticks her tongue out and takes an extra large sip in typical defiance.

As much as you mock Irene for her love for Lifetime holiday movies and hot chocolate, you do have to admit that there’s a certain appeal to it. Curled up on the lumpy couch in Taehyung’s apartment, cupping the hot beverage in your hands, even the uneven lumpiness of the cheap piece of furniture begins to feel comfortable.

The entire room is dark, save for the glow of the television. Taehyung has always insisted that this is the best way to watch movies. Maybe it’s a good thing your makeshift decorations on the christmas tree -- still standing proudly in the corner of the room -- didn’t include christmas lights after all.

Outside, the snowfall has gotten pretty intense, the temperature dipping significantly compared to the previous few days. It is well and truly winter, the cold showing no mercy to anyone who wasn’t prepared for it. You’re thankful to be inside and with a nice hot drink.

But as the film runs on, you get so engrossed in the plot that you don’t even realize you’ve finished your drink till you drain the last of it. Oh.

Looking over at Taehyung, you could always request for more and you know he’d be more than happy to make you another cup. But the movie is at its climax and the way his eyes are glued to the screen, his mouth slightly agape with how invested he is in the film, you can’t bring yourself to interrupt him now. So you try to ignore the way the cold begins nipping at your fingertips.

Soon enough though, the once warm mug that was a pleasant source of heat became stiff cold ceramic between your equally stiff fingers. Scrunching your toes, you wish you’d thought to bring an extra pair of socks over, especially when you think about the pair of socks you’d stuffed into your boots, soggy and cold with melted ice. A shiver runs through you at the thought.

“Are you cold?” Taehyung asks, and you jump. You didn’t realize he’d noticed.

“Yeah, a little.”

He pouts. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? C’mere,” he says, and lifts the edge of his blanket, revealing his plaid pants and sweatshirt combination.

Crawling in quickly, you tell yourself that you’re only complying because you know he’ll put up a fight if you don’t, and you don’t want the cold air getting into the cocoon of warmth he’s created with his blanket. Not because you’re excited to snuggle up with Tae. Definitely not. But now that you’re here, you may as well make the most of it, you figure.

Taehyung yelps as you press your icy toes to his warm thigh. Your arms wind their way around him, desperately seeking out the warmth of his body heat. Nuzzling lightly into the crook of his neck, you sigh, finally getting some relief from the cold.

The tiniest of groans escapes him. Then, a tight gasp. Stiffening, you peer up at Taehyung carefully.

He’s turned to look at you too, his attention that was once rapt by the movie now focused directly on you with equal intensity. Nervous energy accumulates within you and your heart rate skyrockets, now keenly aware of every hard plane of his body against yours. The logical part of you regrets the way you launched yourself at him and gave no regards for personal space. But you’re only dimly aware of that. The part of you that just wants Taehyung, the part that you’ve kept under lock and key, now fights against the restraints you’ve tied yourself into, unravelling you. You gnaw at your lip unsurely, and you watch as Taehyung’s gaze drops to your lips, heavy-lidded as they linger there, then darting back up to meet yours head-on.

The hand that he has on your hip grips you a little tighter, and you clutch the front of his sweatshirt in response. Your heart is pounding now, and the headiness of it all makes you feel swirly. Is he leaning clo-

Slam!

Both of you jump. The noise from the film startles you both, and you accidentally head butt Taehyung’s chin in the midst of it. He yelps in pain.

“I’m so sorry!” You frantically rub the spot to soothe it. “Are you ok?”

He laughs it off in his usual carefree manner. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure? It doesn’t hurt?”

“It’ll be fine in a bit,” he says, pulling you into his chest, his warmth emanating from his chest to your back in a comforting manner. “Let’s continue watching the movie.”

With his arms wound around you, you wonder if he can feel the way your heartbeat continues to beat erratically. If he does, he says nothing about it. And underneath you, you can feel clearly how his heartbeat matches yours in its stuttering pace. But you say nothing about it. Not for the duration of the movie, not when it ends, not when you stand to leave, and not when he wishes you goodnight at the door.

The next day, you wake up with thoughts of yesterday sending your mind into a spiralling whirlpool. You decide it’s time to make an emergency call.

Also, it’s five days to Christmas and you still haven’t thought of a suitable gift for Taehyung.

“Hello?” comes a chirpy voice over the line.

“Jiminie!”

“____! What’s up?”

“Listen, I need your help. It’s about the secret santa thing.”

“What about it?”

“I need a suggestion for a gift for your best friend.”

Jimin chuckles. “Isn’t he also your best friend?”

“Well, yes, but…”

You take him through your original plan to covertly ask Taehyung what he would like by asking what would make a good gift, and how it got completely derailed, to which Jimin just laughed. And then your discussion with Irene on finding something that has been a constant in his life. Since you’re on the phone with Jimin, you take the chance to rant about your annoyance with yourself at not foreseeing Taehyung’s thoughtfulness and the personalized gift suggestions that he’s been giving you.

“____,” Jimin interrupts you mid-rant. “The answer is right in front of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe your plan didn’t really fail. If Tae is suggesting personalized gifts, then…” he trails off meaningfully.

You gasp. “Oh. You’re absolutely right, Jimin, you genius!”

“This was your own plan, ____.” He chuckles. “Now as for what has been constant in his life… Do you really not realize?”

Oh.

“Jimin, you’re a genius, y’know that?”

“So I’ve been telling everyone.”

“Ok, I gotta go now,” you say, excitement zipping through you as your mind fills abuzz with different ideas now that Jimin has set you on the path.

“Seeya on the 25th, you dork.”

“See you!”

Belatedly, you realize you missed out on telling Jimin about what had happened the day prior. But you shrug it off, figuring that you could tell him about it another time.

---

But as it turns out, you don’t. The hectic rush of preparations for Christmas keep you and your friends so busy, you’re thankful everyone’s blocked out Christmas night for each other or you’d just miss each other completely otherwise.

Days on from the eventful movie night you had with Taehyung, the distance has already caused the memories of the night to go slightly fuzzy. You wonder if it had really even happened, or if you were just overthinking everything as per usual.

And since Taehyung never brought it up, your friendship carrying on in the easy status quo, it was simple enough to chalk it up to your own imagination.

The rush towards Christmas keeps itself up even till Christmas day itself. You’re huffing a little as you squeeze yourself and your grocery bags through the doorway of Taehyung’s apartment. The lopsided feeling of your beanie sitting askew on your head is just one part of your disheveled state right now.

“Tae!” You set the bags down and replace the spare key in its hiding place. “I’m here!”

He comes bursting out of his room and running over to help you with the bags. “Is it time to bake?” His tone is bright and shimmering with anticipation. Baking Christmas cookies with each other’s families was a tradition the two of you grew up with, and a tradition you both intended to keep even while away from your hometown.

Pulling the cookie cutters out of the bag, you wave them with a grin. “Shall we? We still have to prepare dinner after this and make sure we log onto Zoom on time too.”

The afternoon is filled with a flurry of flour and butter and sugar, cookie cutters and oven mitts, and a whole lot of messy icing. You pipe out a beautiful blue and white star, if you do say so yourself, taking pride in the baking skills you’ve honed over the past twenty years. Meanwhile, Taehyung scribbles Yeontan on a star-shaped cookie of his own. He adds this to his collection of alien cookies and rabbits on the moon.

When you’re both done decorating and the icing is left to set, you get to work on dinner. It’s a simple affair, just some mashed potatoes that you set Taehyung to work on, some lightly roasted veggies, and a rotisserie chicken from the supermarket in place of the usual Christmas turkey your families would normally have.

Grabbing plates to serve up your dinner, you can hear the chorus of hellos from the living room as Taehyung sets up his laptop to join the Zoom call. It fills you with a warmth you didn’t know you were missing, the cacophony of noise from your friends still as familiar as it always is even though it’s filtered through the speakers on the laptop. If anything, it may even be more chaotic than ever, with everyone speaking over each other, the social cues becoming even harder to read over the virtual platform.

When you finally enter the room with your two plates, the noise only gets louder, everyone shouting to greet you. You say a quick hi and slip back into the kitchen to get the tray of cookies to show off to the rest over the webcam.

You take your place next to Taehyung, seating yourself next to him in a similar cross-legged position, your knees knocking together as you both squeeze to get into frame together. Memories of the movie night come back to you, but Taehyung seems unfazed. Feigning calmness, you try to focus on the ongoing exchange instead.

The conversation drives itself, years of friendship and months spent apart from each other fuelling the chatter. With small talk on how Christmas day was for everyone, quick catch-ups on how everyone’s doing, inside jokes and references to shared experiences of the past, the atmosphere feels just like that one year you all went on a camping trip together and sat around the bonfire on the final night, swapping stories and jokes in a breezy fashion.

Just as the conversation slips into an easy placidity, Hoseok suggests you all move on to the secret santa bit of the night.

That’s when you gasp. Amidst the manic pace of the day and its activities, you’d forgotten to retrieve your present from where you’d stowed it in your apartment. In the same way that you treated Taehyung’s apartment like your own, so was your apartment to him. Taehyung could walk into your apartment any moment, whether you were present or not, and you needed to find a good secret place for your present. Stashing your prepared present in an unused cupboard in the kitchen, you remember commending yourself for having found such a great hiding spot. Turns out, it was so excellently hidden that even you had forgotten about it till this very moment.

But your internal struggle and the guilt that plagued you went unbeknownst to the rest, each taking turns to open their presents. A whole range of reactions and sound effects went on, Hoseok thanking Taehyung for his gifted sunglasses with such sincerity that transcended the boundaries of the webcam and screen. Yoongi had bought Jin a new fishing reel, and the boys were in the midst of discussing their next fishing trip.

But it was Namjoon’s reaction and the chaos that ensued that truly had you relaxing a little from your anxious-frustrated-guilty state.

“Snacks? And wet wipes?” Namjoon’s expression is incredulous as he pulls the items out of the brown paper bag. “Who’s giving me all these freebies?!”

“FREEBIES?!” Next to Namjoon, Jin smacks the table, causing him to jump. “I’ll have you know that those snacks were selected after careful observation, and I even went so far as to scout out for the specific brand you like and some even required shipping from elsewhere because the grocery stores near us didn’t stock it, and I got you wet wipes because you’re always spilling things, or maybe you could use them after you’re done snacking while on the go, but you still have the AUDACITY to call it FREEBIES?!”

At the sight of Jin gone red in the face, the snickers that the rest of you had been holding in came bursting out.

“Ok, I think we’re the last two to open our gifts,” Taehyung says, reading the room and moving on quickly before Jin could get even more agitated. “____, this is yours from your secret santa.”

Ripping open the wrapping paper swiftly, you find a brown leather-bound journal with your initials embossed on them in gold.

“Oh! This is beautiful,” you gush. “And since we’re the last two, this must be from Jimin!”

Even through the screen, the sight of your friend’s smile, eyes all scrunched up with the sincerity of it, has your heart swelling.

“And that means… that I’m your secret santee!” Taehyung gasps. “No way. And this whole time I was calling you a bad liar.”

He rambles on, explaining to the rest about your sly method of attempting to discreetly ask him what he might like for Christmas. The whole time, you’re chewing on your lip, trying to find the right moment to interject and explain what’s happened.

“Ok! So,” Taehyung finally pauses, looking at you expectantly, “I’m ready for my present!” His hands are cupped and ready to receive the present… that will not make it to him tonight.

You place your hands in his, lowering them gently and taking in his obvious confusion. “I’m so sorry, Tae, I left your present back at home. I promise I’ll bring it over tomorrow! Or you can come over after this to grab it if you want.”

“Oh,” he says, puppy dog pout hitting you full-force with guilt. “But I still want a gift now, so…”

Grasping your hands that are still in his, he tugs you forward into his chest, and plants a soft kiss on your lips.

Silence. Both from your brain, and from everyone around.

It lasts for two seconds -- your group of friends has never found it easy to shut up after all -- and then it’s an eruption, pulling you back to the reality that the two of you are not alone.

You can hear Jungkook screaming, “GROSS!” and Namjoon yelling in confusion. But Jimin’s tinkling laughter, filled with unmistakable joy, cuts through the noise along with a raspily muttered, “It’s about fucking time.” from Yoongi.

In the background, you hear Jungkook asking, “Waaaait, so does this mean that Seokjin has to give Namjoon a kiss now too?” and Jin’s immediate, “NO!”

The noise jump starts your brain back into motion. You attempt to pull away from Taehyung, highly aware that your friends are subject to witnessing all of this, but he tugs you back, anchoring you to him with an arm wrapped firmly around your waist. The laughter from the laptop speakers turns into cries of outrage and then an abrupt return to silence with a click, and you realize that Taehyung must have closed his laptop, ending the Zoom call.

Looping your arms around Taehyung’s shoulders, you begin to respond to his kiss, eyelids fluttering closed. It’s new, it’s electrifying. But it’s also like something deep inside has finally clicked, like you’ve finally arrived. You’re home.

“Did you know?” you ask. “About me having feelings for you?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung admits. Heat rises to your cheeks at that, and you hide your face in his chest. Now that you don’t have to be seated on the floor to be in frame for the Zoom call, the two of you opted to move to the lumpy but still much more comfortable couch.

The gentle strokes of his hand in your hair is familiar and comforting, reminding you of the infinite patience he’s always shown to you. It’s a reminder that this is Taehyung. The boy you grew up with through thick and thin. Your best friend. And that gives you the boldness to continue despite your embarrassment.

“How? And when?”

“Honestly,” he trails off slightly, in thought, “I think it was Samantha who made me realize it.”

A pang of jealousy hits you. But you’re immediately wondering if it’s even warranted, now that you guys are… Well, what exactly are you? You make a mental note to clarify that.

“She was jealous, y’know,” he continues. “Didn’t want to say it at first, and tried to put up with it because she understood that our friendship is not something she could just expect me to give up.

“But it got to a point where things just couldn’t go on any longer. What she initially saw as discomfort that she would learn to overcome with time, soon became an awareness that the two of us were crossing the line of just friends, even if we hadn’t realized it at the time.”

Taehyung sighs, causing you to look at him. He smiles down at you, and skims your cheek with his thumb affectionately. “Maybe it’s because you’ve been here by my side all my life, that it was such a gradual thing and neither of us really realized it.”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “It was only after you began dating her that I realized how not okay with that I was. I thought it was just me being the possessive best friend trying to get used to having to share you. But then I realized I didn’t just want my best friend back. I wanted what she had.”

Swallowing hard, you remember the bitterness of the jealousy you felt back then, and that still recurs from time to time.

“What about you then? How did you come to recognize your feelings?” you ask.

“Samantha made me face up to them.” There’s a faraway look in his eyes. “One day she laid it all out, about us being more than just friends. And when I denied it, she asked me, would I choose you over her if I were forced into making that decision. The answer very nearly rolled straight off my tongue. And that was when I knew.”

“Is that why you broke up?” you ask. Taehyung nods. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you silly girl.” He boops you on the nose. “I’m just thankful that Samantha was as understanding as she was about it. I think that’s why it took me a long time to get over it -- knowing that I’d hurt someone as wonderful as she is with my own blind ignorance.”

“And you too,” he says, leaning down to lay a soft peck on your lips. “I hated knowing that I’d hurt you because of my lack of awareness of my own feelings. That’s why I had to take my time this time around, to make sure that I know for sure.”

“Do you know for sure now?”

“Yes,” he says, holding your gaze with seriousness that has you swimming in its depths. “I’m yours now. Purely and fully.”

When you returned to your apartment the next morning, Irene was waiting to grill you on your whereabouts. It didn’t escape her notice that you hadn’t come back to the apartment the previous night, and she joked about how the vacant rooms in Taehyung’s apartment probably didn’t matter because you could always spend the night sharing his bed anyway.

And when you, blushing madly but holding your own nonetheless, informed her that she was right, well, you should have anticipated her squeals of excitement. “Tell me everything!” she had demanded.

You also should have anticipated the endless teasing that she would put the two of you through, especially in the Christmas season. After a trip out to the stores, finally taking a break from her Lifetime holiday movies marathon, she’d returned with copious amounts of mistletoe to hang all around the apartment, insisting the two of you make up for lost time.

But what Irene doesn’t need to know is just how much the two of you agree with her. Stealing a tiny sprig of mistletoe from around the house -- there’s so much that she wouldn’t even notice anyway -- you pack it into one of the clear baubles you’d bought for Taehyung’s Christmas present, nestling it into the box alongside the other clear baubles that were customized with pictures of the two of you.

[alreadyblondenow]

Journey to the past | Xiaojun

✦ Xiaojun x reader ✦ Fluff, Smut, Angst, College AU, Established relationship ✦ 5/5 for HOLIDAY SERIES: Once Upon A December

Summary: You hated each other with a passion and you’re both willing to give each other a hard time. Always. Until you both realized that you secretly have feelings for each other. When Xiaojun finally admitted it, he did everything he could to make it up to you and when things are falling into place, a tragedy happened wherein your memories on how XIoajun won your heart was erased and all that’s left is when you hated him so much.  

Word count: 6,960k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, blow job, face fucking, mentions of other idols, swearing, mentions of accidents, ex Jaehyun,

A/N: PURE FICTION. Not a love triangle fic. And I changed the ending to sad ending. WATCH THE VOW! ITS MY FAVORITE MOVIE OF ALL TIME!

“Are you happy with me?”

“Hmm. I don’t know, you tell me?” you let out a giggle as you put down your pencil and swing an arm around your boyfriend while you two look at the dress you designed for a very much awaited fashion show.

“The way I see it yes,” he kisses your neck, loud and wet sounds of kisses surrounds your small studio. “You love every bit of my handsome being” Xiaojun added as he nibbles your ear and turns you on.  

“I'm sure about loving you but I'm not sure about the handsome part-“ and before you could even finish your sentence he attacked you with tickles that weakens your knees and fall on the floor slowly as you laugh your heart away, feel your heartbeat so fast, feel your body get warm. And when you’re both lying on the cold floor, both smiling and catching your breaths he asked you a question that will forever change your life.

“If you’re happy with me, marry me”

It was suddenly quiet.

“Huh?” you said, eyes wide when you saw that he’s not joking.

“I was planning to ask you to marry me once I convince you to go to bed now and sleep early. The ring is in our room, what do you say?” his hold on you tightens as he waits for your answer, eyes hopeful, heart racing.

“That's the crappiest proposal ever but I love it. Yes”

And finally, Xiaojun can breathe again and stop being nervous. He was so happy that he can’t believe you actually said ‘yes’ this time. “Yeah? You’ll marry me? Hmm?” He kisses you again and starts tickling you but soon the playful moment turned into a passionate one. You feel his cold hands creep under your thin blouse and feel him lift it without breaking the kiss. You did the same with his dress shirt, unbuttoning it without wasting every moment you could get with those amazing lips. “I think we should bring this to our room and you know… so I can propose properly?”

When your boyfriend, now fiancé, was putting the ring on your finger, you couldn't help but think of how he waited for this moment patiently. And how he endured all the heartbreak you have put him through but still, he stayed and waited.

You don’t know why the sex felt even greater now that he finally put a ring on your finger or maybe it’s just because your love became even stronger for Xiaojun and he feels the same. Every kiss, every touch, every thrust he gives you tonight felt warm like you’re about to melt any second. Your toes curled so many times even though you’re not on edge yet.

“Ooh baby” you moaned out and reach for his arm, he asked you ‘what do you want?’ while kissing your collar bones while he’s balls deep inside you. “fuck me from behind” you request, and without any hesitation he pulls out and turned your body, spreading your legs and lifting your hips effortlessly. He licks your opening first before he thrust in again slowly, his hands are perfectly placed on your ass cheeks, spreading it and watching himself slide in and out of you smoothly. He saw you grip the sheets and furrow your brows when he finally hit the spot you oh so loved. Xiaojun then grabbed your hand and intertwined it with his, seeing the ring shine from the soft light from the lampshade. You cannot see it, but your fiancé is blushing like crazy seeing that ring on your finger while he fucks you good.

He doubled his pace, kissing your shoulders as you tighten your grip with his hand. When you clenched around him, Xiaojun lost it and came before you could. “Don’t pull out yet- fuck I’m almost there” you moaned out, accidentally overstimulating your boyfriend for you requested over and over again, 'don't stop'. Your knees gave up and you both flopped on the mattress with heavy breathing and sweaty bodies, smiling at each other as you both enjoy your high.

After he cleaned you up, you snuggled in bed with fresh new sheets and enjoying this very sweet moment while you two let your engagement sink in. “You know I thought you were going to say, no or not yet” Xiaojun admitted.

“Hmm. That’s reasonable, we’ve been through so much already. I can’t blame you” you said.

“Who would have thought that you will marry the person you hated the most?” you both giggled at what he said and tightens his embrace, and right then and there you remember how you used to hate his whole being during college.

Xiaojun’s mere existence annoys the shit out of you.

You thought that your morning with your boyfriend Jaehyun will be peaceful after having your morning sex and Jaehyun offered to make you breakfast. But now your morning is perfectly ruined by his roommate Xiaojun as he eats his cereals in front of you, feet on the table, hair messy, and still wearing his pajamas despite having his morning class in twenty minutes.

“I heard you moaning this morning. Is Jaehyun really that good?” he teased you and Jaehyun, watching your boyfriend smack his head playfully.

“Yeah I’m that good- Xiaojun we have class may I remind you. Dude, go shower already” Jaehyun hands you a plate with freshly cooked pancakes, “Just let it go, babe. He’s just joking,” he says when Xiaojun left the table to go shower.

“Yeah, and I don’t like his jokes. Seriously Jae, live with me instead of this… person” you whine and enjoy what he cooked.

“He’s been my best friend since we were kids and were basically family so, can’t do that” he explains kisses your forehead as an apology.

You and Jaehyun started dating during your first semester as a senior together. You were this perfect fashion student slash valedictorian that suits Jaehyun’s prince charming image and the most popular guy on campus. Everyone thought you’re made for each other and well, perfect for each other.

Except for Xiaojun.

Instead of having the time of your life during your senior year with your handsome boyfriend, Xiaojun comes in and ruins everything. You have nothing against Jaehyun and Xiaojun being friends but sometimes Xiaojun is a handful that you can’t stand it anymore that you and Jaehyun fight because of him. Like that one time you and Jaehyun were having sex in his room and he forgot to lock the door and Xiaojun came in barging in his drunken state. Jaehyun had to pull out in front of him, cover you, and get dressed before he basically drags Xiaojun out of his room.

“Babe, I’m all he’s got. I’m sorry, please don’t break up with me”

After graduating together, you and Jaehyun got a place and lived together for a few years. Xiaojun is still present in your lives, not present like your college days but still, he’s annoying whenever he’s around.

Turns out you don’t need Xiaojun to make you realize that you can’t be with Jaehyun anymore. You and Jaehyun broke up simply because you can’t see a future with him but he didn’t take it well and blamed Xiaojun instead. It was a peaceful breakup but Jaehyun didn’t want to let you go and the moment he lost you, and blamed his best friend and cut ties with him.

“Sorry I’m late, my boss won’t stop at anyothing especially fashion week is just around the corner” you apologize to your girlfriends as you give them a kiss on the cheek one by one, “So what did I miss?” you added.

“Oh, nothing just a few shots of tequila. You know what to do” your friend says as she pours you a few shots to make it up to them and in no time, the tequila had you dancing with your friends and strangers on the dance floor. The place was blurry and all you can see is a dark place illuminated by colorful laser lights and shadows of people dancing.

You are drunk already, and so are your friends.

And the next thing you know is you woke up naked in a stranger’s bed. Body covered by blue thin sheets and your head hurts like hell because of the sunlight. “Sorry about that” he then closed the curtains and hand you a cup of coffee. His blurry image became clear when he flashed you that familiar smirk.

“Small world Y/n” he started, “Why don’t you have a shower first and go change the have breakfast with me” he says and pointed you his bathroom before he leaves you alone.  

As you force yourself to go shower, still clinging to this thin blanket to cover your naked body while you try so hard to remember how did you end up in Xiaojun’s place. First of all, you don’t know that he has his own place already, and second, why would you ever go to his place. You shook your head and shower your thoughts away until you feel clean. You were sure that you and Xiaojun did not have sex because you perfectly remember his figure leaving the room last night and even turned the lights off.

“Want me to fill you up with what happened to you last night?” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee while smiling because you look cute in his clothes.

“Yes please,” you said while you take a sit as far away from him. Everything looked entirely wrong, but you feel like you’re in the right hands instead of waking up with a total stranger.

“For starters, we were at the same bar. Found you throwing up in the men’s bathroom- believe when I tell you that I am shocked. You were batshit drunk and throwing up on the toilet, you were a mess. Your friends got drunk and they can’t take you home, so I volunteered” he explained hoping that you will believe everything he says.

“I remember undressing last night, after you turned off the lights. Thank you”

He raised his cup of coffee like he’s saying, ‘I’m annoying but not a pervert’. Little did you know that he loved taking care of you. It was his first time doing it to you last night, but it felt great to finally give back. It was always you who takes care of his drunken ass back then in your college years. Even though you hate him and Jaehyun is the one making you change his clothes back then while he cleans Xiaojun’s puke, he was always thankful for you and Jaehyun.

He then gave you a plate full of food he prepared and gave you some pain killers for your headache. Xiaojun was looking at you lovingly, it’s been so long since the last time he saw you eat breakfast across the table with him.

“Shit I have a meeting” you got up from your comfortable seat and put a few fruits in your mouth before you look around for your things. “I’m sorry about this, I’ll treat you to dinner. Here-“ you fidget on your phone and hand it to him for his number while you fix your coat.

Everything happened so fast. After he saved his number on your phone, you were gone again. He didn’t even have the chance to say he's sorry.

After that fateful day, your job made you busy for the next few weeks and you forgot to call Xiaojun. Until weeks turned into months, you thought that calling him at such a late notice will make you look like you’re flirting with him, so you stopped yourself from calling him.

Even when you really want to.

Today was one of those moments when you realize that you’re the only single lady in your group of friends. You were completely fine with being single of course, but everyone was just flexing their dates in front of you and you can’t help but think of Xiaojun and ask him to be your plus one in a friend’s wedding but then again, that sounds too desperate of you so you dropped the idea.

The wedding was beautiful, you’re glad to see your friend happy in the arms of the right guy and you wish the same things for yourself too.

While you were busy tearing up in the corner with a glass of champagne in your hand, you felt someone put a coat on you and you can’t protest further because it’s Xiaojun. You were sure you didn’t send him the text, you didn’t even compose the message. It was just a thought, but he is here in front of you.

“Small world huh?” he said, with a smile that melts your heart in an instant. He looked so handsome with that loose tie that you unconsciously fix without hesitation. Xiaojun was taken aback when you came closer to him, turned his head to the side, and just let you do what you must. “Sorry. It’s just a habit, I work in the fashion industry so,- sorry” you stepped back and cling to his coat, he just smiled and nod his head.

“Want to dance? Come on no one knows we used to hate each other here” he winks and asked for your hand which you gladly gave in and let him sway you under soft music as you let your friends gossip on the side.

“Are you friends with the groom?” you asked, trying to start a conversation to make it up to him for not calling.

“Neither, my cousin is invited she made me her plus one” he snorted and you let out a giggle. Thankful that you’re not actually stealing him from anyone.

“I wanted to say sorry. About everything. Me being an asshole to you during our college days, and your relationship with Jaehyun. Were not friends anymore, he cut ties after you broke up with him”

Hearing Xiaojun say his sorry to you actually warms your heart as he continues to sway your bodies side to side. But hearing that Jaehyun stopped being his friend because of you, breaks your heart. “I didn’t break up with him because of you. H-he knows that, how can he say that to you”

“Well, that’s years ago. It’s fine Y/n,” You hum to what he said and enjoyed the moment further because it’s not every day you get to dance with a handsome guy. “I think you should come home with me before you get yourself drunk and go home with a total stranger” you both giggled at what he said, smacking his arm playfully because he’s so smooth.

Later that night you’re back to his apartment, and you’re not just back for the sake of having a nightcap at his place.

One thing led to another and you caught yourselves kissing on his bed, still fully clothed and with no light in his bedroom, just a small light from the lamppost outside which you thought is even more romantic than the moonlight.

You were just kissing and the sexual tension is building up fast but none of you wanted to move or ruin this sweet moment but he had to ask you, “do you want to do it tonight?” He asked softly kissing your neck and lips while he waits for your answer.

“I want to but, it feels right to just kiss you the whole night. Is that okay?” You smiled at him, cupping his face with your cold hands which he catches quickly, and shower it with kisses.

“Of course” he then starts kissing you again. Way softer this time, hands intertwined with each other. The night ended with pure kissing and no funny business, something you least expected from Xiaojun.

The morning after, you and Xiaojun promised to see each other again despite your busy schedules. He was so scared that you might hate him again the moment you step out of his place and forget that you and him shared something special in his bed last night. The morning was full of stolen kisses and reminiscing while you watch him make you a hearty breakfast before you both head to work. It was so hard to leave after breakfast and you think it’s cute how you two feel the same way.

A date is followed by another date, then another one, until you two stopped worrying that your hate for each other will come back. The getting to know each other phase was intimate, you now knew things about Xiaojun that he never told anyone before, except you and Jaehyun.

“I always envied him. For years and years, I see the way you loved him, how you take care of him and I can’t stop myself for wishing the same things for myself, you know?” He admitted. You hug him tighter and let him feel your guilt. You saw a smile on his face and quickly planted a kiss on your lips.

Xiaojun is not perfect. He has imperfections and those imperfections are part of the many reasons why you love him. Truth be told you’re not perfect too, but Xiaojun loves you as if you are. For him, he would rather accept each other’s imperfections rather than losing each other.

You knock on his apartment with a few take-outs in your hand and decided to have a surprise dinner together. He hasn’t texted you for two days straight now and you’re starting to get worried. When he opened the door, a tired Xiaojun welcomed you. Eyes tired, dark under eyes and he smelled like he hasn’t showered for days.

“To what do I owe this pleasure” he kissed your forehead and helped you with the stuff you brought for dinner. “You look nice, you go to work looking that beautiful?” He added and weakly winked at you.

“Baby, you look like shit” you rake his greasy hair, dirty but you don’t care.

“I’ve been working on this game for days now, I’m so frustrated already” he whines while he prepares the meal. “I need hugs, kisses, and sex maybe?” He was always quick to turn your moments around and the next thing you know you’re laughing so loud while you’re enjoying the food. For a moment there, he forgot that he was stressing about this game he was talking about because you make everything better with your mere presence. He wanted to tell you that this apartment of his was like a bat cave before you came in, and now that you're here gracing him with your presence, it's like every corner of this place lit up automatically.

After dinner and while you were washing the dishes, you felt Xiaojun's arms cage you while you're busy scrubbing the plates, "Thanks for the visit," he says kissing your nape and your neck.

"Are you shooing me already?" you joked.

He let out a low giggle and felt his hands wander on your waist and on your sides. “Can we do it tonight?” there was no sign of pressure in the way he asked you, he was caging you with his arms as you wash the dishes and kissing you lovingly.

“If we shower first, then yeah”

“Together?” With wide eyes, he asked you.

“No silly” you giggled, “go shower first,” you sealed it with a kiss, and without hesitation Xiaojun head to his bathroom and clean himself.

He wasn’t joking when he told you he needed sex, the man was so stressed indeed that you see his table in his bedroom all messed up with papers, dirty cups of instant ramen on the side, and his computers with a lot of codes that you don’t understand.

“Found you” he whispers behind you. The smell of his shampoo and soap lingers around the room. You turned your back and smiled at him, kiss his exposed chest, and ruffle his wet hair.

“Next time you’re stressed with work, tell me. I’ll do my best with you, okay?”

“Sorry” he kissed you on the cheek, “I’m so used to being alone that I forgot we’re in this together from now on. I’m really sorry” you told him it’s okay over and over again but he tells you he’s sorry still.

After you have the most amazing hot shower you ever had you found Xiaojun waiting for you in his bed, and looking incredibly hot with only wearing his glasses and nothing underneath those thick sheets. Even his bed felt amazing, you feel like you’re lying on a cloud with an angel beside you. A naked angel. While you’re only wearing your panties and his oversized shirt.

“Your apartment feels like home” you admitted and went on top of him, flopped in between his bare legs, letting his soft cock poke your lower abdomen. His hands immediately go on top of your shoulder to give it a tight squeeze and massage it for a few seconds. He figured you might be stressed with work too and he didn’t even bother asking you if you’re fine.

He wanted to talk more, but too late. You’re already naked under the thick sheets, kissing him down and you’re on your way to give him the best blow job ever. You kissed his lower abdomen, hearing the man underneath you grunt and get excited. You stroke his soft cock while you continue to kiss him and tease him, lick a few stripes before you play with his head. When he’s finally hard and ready, you slowly bobbed your head and glide your tongue as you take him whole. You didn’t waste your time anymore and gave him what he wants, you reach for his hand, put it on the sides of your head, and let him thrust in your mouth. It was filthy despite being the first time doing such sexual activity, but you did not care.

Spit was all over your face, Xiaojun then covers his face as he tries his best not to cum so soon. He stopped on purpose, giving you time to breathe and giving him time to control himself. You crawl up to him after you wiped the spit on your face and spread soft kisses on his body, “it’s okay to cum in my mouth, why did you stop?”

He was quiet and still catching his breath while you grabbed his cock and pump it slowly. You kissed him and told him you’re on top for tonight just because he’s the one who needed stress release. You leaned on him before you line his cock and Xiaojun’s mouth was quick to catch one of your nipples with his mouth and suck it. Tongue swirling, teeth biting, and softly pinching it before you ride him.

His hands are on both sides of your hips while you slowly go down and swallow his cock with your pussy. “Mmm” you moan out and feel the stretch that Xiaojun gives you, it has been way too long since your last fuck and that explains how tight you are. You feel his grip tightens every second and when he’s finally fully inside you, he let out a loud moan to express how good you make him feel.

You lean forward and kissed him before you roll your hips, grab his hand, and made him grip your boobs instead of your sides. "I'm yours" you whisper. The first roll of your hips felt fucking good for both of you. You watch your boyfriend part his lips beneath you and ask for more which you gladly gave him by fucking him slow and deep that lustful sounds came out from your mouth and Xiaojun is loving all of it.

"You sound great, try moaning my name? Hmm?" he request, mouth parted, eyes lidded and full of lust.

"Xiaojun" you moan out. But you didn't do it on purpose, his name unconsciously escaped from your mouth because he's kissing your neck, pinching your nipple with his left hand, and drawing circles on your clit with his right hand. You did not miss how his fingers and his sweet whispers are the ones who put you on edge and eventually hit your high when he added more pressure on your clit. You tried pushing him away because the pleaser is too much, Xiaojun slowed down for your sake.

"Is it okay if we continue until I cum?" you can only nod with his request. A few lustful kisses, moaning, and sharp gasps here in there, he trades places with you effortlessly fucking you at a really slow pace because that's what you both needed. Your right knee is folded so he could thrust deeper, now it’s your turn to part your lips, furrow your brows and ask for more. Unconsciously, your thumb brushes on his lips while you cupped face and without hesitation, Xiaojun put your thumb in his mouth and sucked it while he fucks you hard.

It’s obvious that he’s near already when you see him turn his head from side to side and his slow and deep thrusts became hard and piercing. He was catching his breath, eyes shut and moaning loudly as he's letting you know that you're the one who made him feel good.

“Good?” You asked sweetly to him, and nod his head weakly while feeling his body warms up and shoots his cum inside you. He kisses your lips, your neck, and your knee and he told you, “I love you” you giggled and raked the hair covering his face, “you seriously told me you love for the first time while you’re still shooting your cum inside me?” you watch your boyfriend get shy in the cutest way possible.

The night ended sweetly with Xiaojun kissing your legs while he cleans you up, and letting you play with the game he has been working on. Spending time with Xiaojun is like an escape from reality, very addicting and you never want it to end. Maybe that’s why you always cling to him in your sleep.

Waking up with your arm around his body has become Xiaojun’s favorite thing now and you sleeping with no clothes on is just a plus. He covers your exposed body because you’re making him horny first thing in the morning with those perked up nipples but did not waste his opportunity to kiss you good morning. He started kissing you on your neck, down to your collar bones until you’re awake enough to swing your arms around him and return the kiss.

“Sore?” He teased you and you snorted because it’s true. “Breakfast?” he added, still looking at you lovingly and secretly thanking the universe for bringing you together again.

During breakfast, it seems like you two can’t get enough of each that he wanted you to sit on his lap while you have breakfast. The morning was full of giggles, nonstop teasing, and tickles. You give him a piece of bread and he will give you a kiss in return, his hands are perfectly secured around your frame, and his eyes... oh his eyes are only fixed to you.

“I’m the worst boyfriend,” he says while drawing small circles on your knee.

“No, you’re not”

“Last night while I was massaging your shoulders, I did not miss how you grunt and let out a relieving sigh. It’s obvious you’re tired too-“ he shook his head and went straight to the point, “Live with me, that way we can sleep peacefully at night. Come home with each other, massage each other’s back. Let me be a better boyfriend”

The fact that he wanted to be better for you even though he’s already doing so much makes your heart thump so fast because of pure joy. “Xiaojun do you know that you’re naturally sweet?” You cup his face and kissed his lips and hope that the way you kiss him will make him understand how happy you are right now. “okay, let’s be better for each other... and massage each other’s shoulders” you placed your arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to you, making the kiss more intense and soon you can hear each other moan deliciously.

Moving in with Xiaojun was a big change, you still hated his weird habits like how he hates doing dishes but now he has you to straighten him up. At night, you spend time with each other after a long day from work, may it be making dinner together or eating takeout and end the day with great sex and sleep with tired bodies. When the sun is up, you start your day right with morning kisses that you will never get tired of, have breakfast together and if you have enough time, you and Xiaojun will fuck before going to work.

Then again, at the end of the day, you come home from work excitedly and he will stop whatever he’s doing to welcome you home, continue his day, and spend it with you.

No more worrying for each other, no more not seeing each other for days. You are each other’s home now.

Of course, there's no perfect relationship and even though you love each other like crazy there will be moments that you can’t avoid no matter how hard you try. Since Xiaojun is a game developer, he’s all about fun and being spontaneous while you on the other hand are always uptight and you always want to stick on schedule. Your personalities always contradict each other so you fight like crazy sometimes but never sleep until you fix the problem, compromise, and work things out no matter what happens.

Xiaojun has your heart and you are each other's weakness.

The once huge change or shift in your life is now your normal, and home. In the span of being together for two years, you and Xiaojun settled with each other happily.

And that happiness is a great push for Xiaojun to ask you to marry him.

It was a beautiful proposal, complete with wine, steak, and the diamond in that ring is so big that your eyes widened at the size of it.

But you sadly refused.

Cold. That’s the perfect word to describe how the night went. How a supposedly passionate night turned out to be. Even the bed is cold and for the first time, Xiaojun turned his back on you. But of course, you reach out to him not because it’s the right thing to do but because you love Xiaojun so much. You hugged him from behind and hope that he will hear you out, but he was the one who talked first.

“Not ‘never’, just ‘not now’ right? You love me right?” The sound of Xiaojun’s voice weakens you. He sounds so weak, sobbing, and sniffing as he waits for your answer.

“I do love you. Please don’t think that you’re lacking, it’s me. I’m not yet ready to be married- oh baby I’m sorry I put you through this” you hugged him tighter and cried with him but even though you’re both crying he never forgets to make you feel loved. He dried your tears and kissed both of your eyes and kept you close to him until you fall asleep.

After that fateful night, it is as if something shifted in your relationship and Xiaojun became sweeter, more mature, and you fight less. Of course, he was still heartbroken about you refusing to marry him, but he would rather be rejected than be stupid enough to leave you.

In time, the failed proposal became an inside joke to both of you. Like that one time, you wanted to have sex with him but he teased you instead of giving you what you want.

“Only married couples have sex baby. If only you said ‘yes’ back then, right?” He says while kissing your exposed collar bones and secretly unbuttoning his white dress shirt. You giggled at what he said decided to bite back, “try fucking the word ‘yes’ out of me tonight then” you said. And with quick hands, he undresses and you did the same.

A year already passed since you refused to marry him, and now that Christmas is just around the corner Xiaojun decided to try again. Hoping for the best of course, but he has a great feeling that you still haven’t changed your mind.

“If you’re happy with me marry me”

It was suddenly quiet.

“Huh?” you said, eyes wide when you saw that he’s not joking.

“I was planning to ask you to marry me once I convince you to go to bed now and sleep early. The ring is in our room, what do you say?” his hold to you tightens as he waits for your answer, eyes hopeful, heart racing.

“That's the crappiest proposal ever but I love it. Yes”

Who would have thought that married life was hard but you two managed it perfectly? Just as you thought that Xiaojun poured every bit of his love to you during the time that you were dating, well you’re wrong. For Xiaojun it’s not hard for him to pour more of his love into you because for him, you’re like a Russian doll that has different layers, different you, you’re like a leaf that changes color for the better and all he has to do is love every change.

“Well, I want a boy and girl,” he says while looking at the ceiling with you, arms wrapped around each other and talking about having a baby someday.

“Hmm. Okay. But with four years interval, please. Being a mom is hard. At least that’s what my friends told me-“

“But I doubt we will stop at having two kids, I think we will end up having five. I need to develop more games” his eyes grew big upon realizing that what he just said. You let out a laugh, turned to your husband, and kissed him because he’s too cute.

Everything was perfect. A year married and everything is smooth sailing. It’s like there’s no hint of you hating each other back then because you love each other deeply now.

Until one night, Xiaojun was late to pick you up from work and you waited for him while enjoying the falling snow and can’t wait to throw one at Xiaojun for being late. Everywhere was white and the snow is pretty thick that you didn’t see a car crossing the street at the same time as you saw your husband on the other side of the road.

It all happened too fast. One second he was smiling at you and the next thing he knew you’re lying in the middle of the road.

The accident put you in a short comatose but that’s not the worst part of it.

Xiaojun prayed for your recovery day and night, stayed with you at the hospital, and left work in the meantime to take care of you. One night, he was holding your hand tightly and looking at your wedding ring, whispering ‘i love yous’ and ‘please wake up now’ over and over again... until you actually did.

It was like a miracle when he heard you grunt, saw you move your head, and furrow your brows. He called the doctor as quickly as he can and watch them do their job, excited to finally talk to you, excited to tell you that he loves you and that he was so scared, he thought he lost you.

“Y/n, I am your doctor. You were hit by a car two days before Christmas under a snowy day after work”

It was quiet for a moment as the doctors and the nurses give you some time to let it all sink in. But the first thing that came out to your mouth is,

“Jae? Is Jaehyun alright?” You asked weakly.

‘Jae’ a word Xiaojun hasn’t heard from you for almost five years.

“I’m not sure who that man is, but your husband is here” your doctor looked at the man seated behind, and to your surprise, it was Xiaojun. And the moment you see Xiaojun’s face clearly under the soft light of your hospital room, your heart thumped so fast and you don’t know why it's doing that.

“H-he’s not my husband. He’s my boyfriend’s best friend. Can you please call Jaehyun?”

Xiaojun did not know what to do. Does he really have to call Jaehyun because you asked him to? But he’s your husband... “You can’t remember me? W-what am I? Or who am I?” Xiaojun asked softly, careful not to stress you but he is very frustrated and broken right now. “Y/n, I’m your husband. Were married”

You look at him. Long and hard as if you’re telling him that you don’t have time for his sick jokes, you were in an accident for goodness sake. But while you’re looking at your husband with disgust, Xiaojun never thought he would see that look you gave him again. After years and years of being together and happily married... now you’re back at being disgusted and annoyed with him.

“Get out”

You said when you saw your wedding ring and some pictures of you and him on the side table. Xiaojun followed your request with a heavy heart and you see it in his face. But everything is too much. You don’t know what’s heavy to take, you getting hit by a car or waking up with Xiaojun being your husband.

Later that night, Xiaojun came back to your room just to check up on you and found you sleeping soundly. What happened earlier hurt him but it will never change his love for you. With all his bravery he said the news to your family and admitted that he is in need of help. “She can’t remember me as his husband, I think it will be better if you guys come here and take it from here. I don’t want to pressure my wife” even his frustration is obvious thru the phone your mom thought.

The next day, you were glad to see your parents but not exactly glad to see Xiaojun arrive with them. He was quiet the whole time the doctors were explaining the things you need to do in order to regain your memories and your parents are talking and filling you up with the years you don’t remember. “By the time you can leave the hospital, it’s better if you go back to your normal routine,” the doctor said.

They were going on and on to how much of a good husband Xiaojun is, how he’s taken care of you for years, how you used to be so in love with him. But every word that your parents told you seemed so strange and new to you. How? Why? Why him? Are the questions you want to be answered now but your head hurts already. “I can’t take all this in one day” you asked them to stop. “It’s getting pretty late too, I think you guys should go home and we’ll do this… when I need it”

In the next few days, you asked Xiaojun to stop seeing you or visiting you anymore just so you can think of a way on how to deal with this at your own pace. You also told him that you will be staying with your parents from now and they can take care of you without him. “I’m your husband, I can’t just leave you Y/n” he said sternly.

“I know- Xiaojun I’m thankful that I have you now and you’re all honest to me and my parents like you. But I feel like I don’t know you right now, am I suppose to come to your house and play house with you?”

At this point, Xiaojun can feel his heartbreak into pieces. He can’t do anything. He thought that you asking him not to see you anymore was heartbreaking enough that he wanted to punch the wall. But when he saw you remove your wedding ring, that made him weak and hopeless.

"Don't leave me. Please don't do this"

“It’s not divorce, Xiaojun. Maybe I will remember you tomorrow or next week, who knows? But right now, I’m lost and I know that I have to take care of myself-“

“But I can take care of you. Think of this baby,” he came closer to you, desperately held you close to him, and surprisingly you liked it. Like your body remember Xiaojun’s warmth but your mind can’t. “We met again two years after you broke up with Jaehyun. Leaving Jaehyun was a decision you made for yourself. Then I came along and won your heart, we dated and now we're married” you watch tears in his eyes fall which you unconsciously dry with your thumb.

“And this is another decision I’m doing for myself. If you love me or care for me, you would let me go” you asked of him, with all the softness you have left for the man.

You gave the ring to him and thankfully he accepted it, although he begged a little more but, your decision is final. Knowing that what you’re doing right now is basically torture for him and it breaks your heart too, but what can you do? You don’t remember him as your husband, and you just know him as the person who annoys you the most.

All he can do now is wait for you to regain your memories and hope for the best. But even if you hate him again, he will still love you fiercely and wait for you to come in his arms.

[forever-rogue]

A Good Man - Part 2

A/N: Part 2!! I hope you're all excited! Thank you guys for your support on the first part. And don't worry, the ugh....smut is coming soon! Thank you to @rosetophighlander​ for helping me brainstorm this part! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: mild language...yearning....

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Fuck,” murmuring under your breath, you scratched your well loved pen roughly over the paper, willing for more ink to come out. But it was fully used; it had been growing fainter and fainter for some time, and now, mid-lecture, it had decided to be done.

Glancing up from your notes, you chanced a peek at the professor, catching his eye as you did so. Of course. There seemed to be a mildly amused expression on his face as you chucked the pen inside your bag with a huff and searched for another, managing to dig one up after a few minutes of silent struggle. 

The professor seemed to realize what was happening and appeared to slow down his lecture as you tried to catch up, almost as if he was attempting to ensure that you wouldn’t miss anything. No one else around you even seemed to be alive, starting down at their books with glazed expressions; one of the students across the room was even shamelessly sleeping. Groaning internally at them, you felt bad for him. It dense enough material to teach, and having people be this disinterested probably only made it more difficult. That just made your resolve to work even stronger. 

Uncapping the new pen, you set it back on the page and offered your full attention back to the man at the front, keeping your eyes trained mainly on the chalkboard. It was hard not to allow your eyes to flit over his body, the tight white button up, the fitted navy trousers, and those damned glasses were enough to drive you slowly insane. When he turned his back to the class, you couldn’t help but to admire the view...but luckily you always managed to catch yourself and keep up with his lecture. But you didn’t catch on how Javier always seemed to notice all the little things, including how your eyes lingered on him. You also didn’t seem to catch on how his own honeyed gaze was usually focused on you, the sole person he seemed to be teaching. 

But this class was different - just before Javier excused the lot of you, he decided to assign your midterm papers. This time you didn’t groan internally, but let out a little sigh as he explained his requirements, all of which you scribbled quickly down in your notes. It was such a simple task but you just knew it would be difficult, and would end up phasing you someway or another. Just as he finished and dismissed everyone, the students around you seemed to practically sprint for the door and you were left behind in the dust. 

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you grabbed your things and tucked them inside your bag, the realization that you were the only one left in the room hitting like you a ton of bricks. The temperature seemed to increase insurmountably as you left your desk and headed for the door. Javier’s gaze followed your frame for a moment and just before you ducked into the buzzing hallway filled with students heading off to their next class, you turned to him. His expression was unreadable, filled with a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t quite place. Instead of saying anything, you felt your cheeks heat up and stepped out of the classroom, allowing yourself to get lost in the sea of people.

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Professor Peña?"

"If you're looking for stories or secrets or whatever bullshit for your little newspaper, I'm not interested," Javi didn't even bother to look up from his desk, eyes dark and focused on the mountains of papers in front of him. When he didn't hear the sound of retreating footsteps or the squeak of the ancient door, he groaned lightly, "I said I wasn't interested in indulging your little inquiries."

"I-I'm not here for that," your voice sounded small, quiet and almost pathetic in the darkened office. The sun had almost completely set and Javier had yet to turn on the lights, depending only on his small desk lamp. He almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to look in your direction, eyes widening when he realized it was you, "I'm sorry to bother you, professor. I-I can go."

He let out a long sigh, took off his glasses, and ran a hand over his face in exhaustion as he shook his head and pointed at the chair in front of his desk. Swallowing the nervous lump in your throat, you padded over, almost completely silent, before slipping into the aging leather chair, "It’s... I shouldn't have yelled like that."

"I can go...if this is a bad time,” you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes as you trained your gaze on the worn, wooden grain of his desk, “I know it’s almost the end of your office hours and I don’t want to impose.”

When you were met with silence, and unable to keep your knee from bouncing up and down, you almost jumped up and headed for the door, wishing a hole would swallow you up and this moment would never have happened. 

“It’s fine,” he insisted firmly, holding his hand up to keep you from darting out, finally looking up and meeting your nervous eyes. Nodding, you swallowed the thick lump in your throat and planted yourself firmly in your seat, “it’s been...a long day. It doesn’t excuse it...so just stay.”

“Really...I can come back another time,” you captured your bottom lip between your teeth and chewed on it for a moment, unsure of where to concentrate your gaze. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, knowing you’d be too far gone if you started at his handsome visage too much. It was hard enough in class to focus on what he was teaching when he came in looking handsome as hell everyday. You had tried, desperately so to avoid your attraction to him, but it was undeniable. Little did you know that you had slowly turned into the highlight of his day; the three hours a week you spent in classroom had him almost...excited to show up and teach. 

“Nah,” he insisted in such a blasé tone that you almost couldn’t believe it. You’d never heard him be anything but completely serious before, “I was just being an asshole...”

“I didn’t mean to imply-” 

“No, no, no,” he said quickly, giving you a surprised expression, “it’s not you. Trust me, it’s just... people don’t...normally come to my office hours. Maybe like one student a semester. And it’s usually for...”

“Your time in Colombia,” you concluded as he paused for a moment, still as could be as he nodded lightly. Clearly you’d struck a nerve; you could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, the veins in his neck protruding slightly as his hand curled into a fist and rested on the edge of the desk. In class he’d never even come close to bringing it up; hell, you’d never have known if Sarah hadn’t shown you that little article, “that’s not why I’m here. I swear.”

“Then what can I do for you?” his voice adopted a different tone, more docile and less on edge as his eyes seemed to rake over you and he could see you were being honest. You wrung your hands anxiously in your lap before pulling your notebook, and looking through your copious, detailed notes from his last lecture. Javi couldn’t help but try and skim over him as you dragged a finger down a page and stopped with a small triumphant little sound when you found what you had been searching for. He was impressed that you, or anyone, actually took the time and energy to listen to him.

“Your assignment,” you glanced over the notes and frowned at them, “you asked us to submit a proposal for a midterm paper topic, and you left it pretty open ended, but we’ve only covered up until about 1750. Does that mean we can do any major topic up to then or can we do anything? Do you have a preferred area of discussion? Or do you prefer we focus on a figure and analyze their viewpoints towards specific topics? I guess...I’m just looking for some guidance. I don’t want to do something and have it be off the mark and waste your time...or mine.”

“You...took the time to think about this and then come and ask me?” he sounded astounded as you slowly nodded, offering him a slight shrug of your shoulders. You hadn’t thought it was that weird...you just wanted to be sure about things, “huh. Do you actually like this class?”

“Professor...” you didn’t want to lie, not directly to his face as you sat in front of him, “it’s...”

“Just be straight forward,” he leaned back in his chair, playing with the pen in his hand as you let out a low breath, “I don’t care either way.”

“How honest do you want?” a small smile tugged on your features despite your best efforts to keep it at bay.

“Brutal.”

“I hate it,” you felt like you were confessing your sins in church, unsure of what to expect his reaction to be. What if this had all been some sort of weird test...what if he suddenly hated you? But he remained silent, waiting for you to expand on your answer, “it’s a subject I do not care for, and I only took it because it satisfied one of the last subject areas I needed and everything else was already filled up.”

But then, in a total change of pace, shocking you almost as much as it surprised him, he burst into a fit of laughter, throwing his head back as his warm, rich voice filled the small, dark space of his office. Your eyes widened as you tried not to focus on his smile and his glorious neck as you wondered if he was was going to commend or condemn you. 

“That was the most honest I think I’ve ever had someone be with me,” he answered once he calmed down, his shoulders still bouncing lightly with silent laughter, “the honesty...it’s quite refreshing.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” fumbling for the right words, your hands trembled slightly as you reached for your notebook, attempting to hastily stuff it into your bag and fun out of the room. But Javi reached over and grabbed one of your wrists with a touch that was both firm, but delicate enough to cause you to almost break your neck as you looked at him, “professor?”

“I’m not offended,” he promised, letting his hold on you linger a few moments before slowly releasing your wrist. He gestured for the notebook and you handed it over to him, nervous as to what he would say about your notes. Would you be in trouble? Would he be impressed? He was silent as he flicked through everything, his fingers touching over all the areas your pen had scribbled on, “these are extremely detailed and thorough for someone that apparently hates the subject.”

“I didn’t want to fall behind. There’s a lot to remember and take in,” you felt nervous as he scoured over your writing and read some rushed words under his breath, “I-I figured if I was going to take this class, regardless if I enjoy it or not, I should put in the time and effort. It’s not fair to you to just completely waste your time either.”

“Tell that to rest of the hundred and something students I have. They couldn’t give a shit less,” he suddenly snapped your notebook closed, the sharp sound reverberating loudly in the otherwise quiet room. Shoving the worn notebook across the desk, he let out a sigh before tousling his dark hair as you shoved it away. Something had struck a nerve with him and you were nervous, unsure of how he was going to respond to whatever you had to see. So the inattention and lack of care from the rest of the class was not lost on him, “it’s like teaching to an empty room.”

“And you?” a rush of courage and rushed through your bones and you were almost surprised that the words came out of your own mouth. Your hand flew to your face in shock and you were sure that must have gotten on his bad side now. Surely he wouldn’t tolerate that much insolence, if you could even call it that. Something in you snapped and you decided that if you were already on his list in red and underlined, you had nothing left to lose, “do you care?”

His lips turned into a thin, hard line, and he tapped his fingers against his stubble covered chin as he watched you closely. It was a weird thing, and you could feel him trying to analyze you. You refused to meet his eyes, not wanting to give in and let him see deep into you; maybe he wouldn’t like what he found. 

After a view moments of tense silence, he leaned back in his old chair, and it creaked loudly, the only disturbance in the still air. He dropped his fist back down and tapped it against the desk for a moment before quietly saying, “not as much as I should.”

“Oh,” you nodded, unable to blame him for teaching a class he didn’t really care about, “then why...never mind. I don’t mean to pry.”

 You stole a glance at your watch and noticed that it was now past his office hours; that was good enough of a reason for you to leave, right? You cleared your throat and quickly stood up before he could make any move to stop you, “your hours are over...I’ll just...go.”

“Wait-” he stood up but made no move to follow you, but keep his gaze on you. You paused with your hand on the door knob, not quite twisting it open yet as waited for him to speak. The tension in the air was palpable and you answered with a small nod, “I...we...how about you come back tomorrow? Or whatever day works and I can help you pick a subject for your midterm?”

“Y-you want me to come back?” there was a light shake to your voice as you realized what this meant. However he felt towards you, he didn’t completely dispose you anyways. Turning on your heel, you languidly raked your eyes up to meet his, finding him with his hands on his hips and an unreadable expression etched on his face, “you don’t have to, Professor. I’m sure I can find a topic to write on.”

“Javi,” his name rolled off his lips in an unsure tone and the corners of your mouth twitched into a small smile. He’d never offered is first name to a student before - he’d never even spoken this much to a student before. This was all uncharted territory for the both of you; normally you were steadfast and sure in your way, but this had you questioning a lot. Including where you truly stood with your enigma of a professor, “you can call me Javi.”

“Javi,” you repeated, sounding it out slowly and deciding that you liked how it sounded, how felt when you said it. Javi Peña. It was a good name. Despite it being his decision to tell you to call him that, he still seemed...confused. But as soon as he had told you his name, soft and gentle, you had made up your mind, “I’ll...be back tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated quietly as you turned back to the door and turned the knob and slowly opened the heavy wooden door. You stepped out of his office and into the softly illuminated hallway. There was a few seconds were you contemplated turning around and offering him a wave, a proper goodbye, something, but instead, you clutched your book bag tighter and quickly took off down the hall, your heart racing as though you had just run a marathon. In sync with each footstep all you could think was Javi, Javi, Javi. 

Every last logical part of your brain told you not to return tomorrow, to just pick a topic and write a paper on it, but the other part of you, your more heart governed side, insisted that you should go back tomorrow. It told that there was something...more that you needed than help on your paper. You weren’t sure what it was, but you decided not to repress the feeling. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Why do you look so...happy?” Sarah looked up from the show she was watching and studied you for about five seconds before coming to the conclusion that something was definitely off. Not...in a bad way, but definitely different from what you would normally come home like after a day of back to back classes. Making it a point to put a frown on your face you shook your head as you dropped your book bag down and flopped onto the couch, pointedly avoiding her gaze, “babeeeeee. What happened? Did you get laid?”

“Sarah!” you burrowed further down on the couch and hid your face, “nothing happened and no, I did not get laid.”

“Then what is it?” she wasn’t about to drop the subject and you found yourself cursing her inquisitive nature, “did something happen in class? With hot professor!?”

“Absolutely nothing happened with him in class,” you insisted, your voice cracking lightly on the last word as she inhaled sharply. Peeking at her, you saw that she was almost bouncing out of her seat with excitement, “just because he’s hot-”

“You said nothing happened in class,” she came over and sat right next to you, patting your thigh in excitement, “then tell me, what happened after class?!”

“I went to his office during his office hours because I was stuck on the assignment,” you admitted, “at first he was annoyed...but then he wasn’t. He thought I just want to poke around about when he was in DEA, but I told him I just needed help. He was fine after that...mostly. I’m going back for help to tomorrow.”

“Shit,” her brilliant sapphire eyes were wide with excitement as her mind jumped to all sorts of conclusions, “office hours with hot Professor Peña!?”

“Javi,” you mumbled, barely audible to your own ears. Sarah sucked in a breath before letting out a squeal of excitement; she was even more invested in your little back and forth with him than you were. But every time you’d told her about your classes over the last six weeks, she was insistent, almost to a fault, that he felt something for you, that no teacher was like that with their students. You were sure it was just because you appeared to be the only living being in his class. 

“Javi,” she repeated in a dreamy voice, “that even sounds sexy.”

“He told me to call him that,” your face was hot and suddenly the thing sweater you were wearing seemed too much, and you quickly pulled it off in a vain attempt to still the warmth that was coursing through your veins, “it got late and I left...he asked me to come back tomorrow.”

“He asked?” you nodded as you bit your lip, realizing how it appeared to sound when you recanted the tale back to her. But if she had been there, she surely would have realized that it was all straight forward and there were no double entendres or anything. it was just professional; a professor helping his student, “hot professor asked you to come back tomorrow?”

“For help with my paper!” you groaned and hid your face in your hands, “that’s all and nothing more, I swear.”

“Oh no,” she shook her head fervently, sienna curls bouncing wildly, “there’s something more to this than meets the eye. I swear it, I can feel it. A professor doesn’t just tell you to call them by their nickname and insist you come back without an underlying motive.”

“It’s not...like that,” a heavy sigh escaped your lips, “he’s...different. I mean, sure he seems to hate life when he’s teaching, but I think he just wants to help. I think he felt bad for snapping at me at first...and maybe he wants to help because I’m the only one who gives a damn about his class.”

“That maybe so,” she agreed, giving your shoulder a light squeeze, “but there’s more to it. I’m sure of it, mark my words!”

“Sure Sarah,” tossing your head back on the couch, you stared at the ceiling and studied the patterns of the aging paint, “I’m sure something will happen between me and Javi.”

“Ahh! See you’re already calling him Javi!”

“PROFESSOR PEÑA!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

When you woke up the next morning, you slowly got ready for your classes, your heart beating wildly, quicker than the wings of a fluttering humming bird, as you realized what was to come this afternoon. You were sure that your nerves were for naught, but it still didn’t calm the wild fluttering going in your belly. Just before leaving, you checked yourself over in your mirror, deciding you were satisfied with your appearance. There was bright glow on your cheeks, prompting you to chide yourself for acting like a school girl with a crush instead of a groan woman.

But the day seemed to drag on, and on, and on, and by the time you headed out of your last class, you were tempted to go just go home and take a nap. Maybe that would have been better instead of going to Javi’s office and letting whatever would happen happen.

You were almost on autopilot as you entered the history department’s building, not thinking much of anything, besides not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of the mysterious professor. Before you knew it, you knocked softly on his door, but when you were met with silence, you rested your hand on the knob, wondering what was going what you should do. Maybe you hadn’t been loud enough? Knocking with more force this time, you waited with baited breath to see if he would let you in....but nothing. 

Sighing lightly to yourself, especially at the fact that you had gotten yourself so worked up over nothing, you hung your head and got ready to leave. You might as well disappear quickly before anyone could see the pathetic look on your face. You’d meandered about halfway down the hall, when you heard a pair of rushed footsteps behind you, and a rich voice called out your name. Spinning around, probably much too eagerly, you find Javier right standing out of his door, breathless as he waved you over. 

“I-I’m sorry I’m late,” he said as you slowly made your back down the hall, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, “I was running behind and had to stop home to check on Stevie.”

“Stevie?”

“My dog,” he answered and your mouth curved upwards into a smile. He had a dog named Stevie; it wasn’t at all what you had expected, “I usually go earlier, but had a meeting that ran late and couldn’t get to him. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“No,” you answered in earnest, “I-I just...didn’t know if you’d forgotten or were busy or....”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he insisted as he opened the door to his office and ushered you inside, following closely behind, close enough that you could feel his body heat radiating onto yours. You remained silent as you slipped into the chair opposite his desk and pulled out a fresh pen and notepad, ready to take notes and figure out what on earth to do for your midterm, “all business, huh?”

He seemed mildly amused as he slinked into his own chair, more relaxed and calm than he had been the afternoon before. You lifted your eyes slowly and met his gaze as you nodded and shrugged; you wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating. Something in the air was different today...much more palpable than before. You wondered how long much longer you would walk on this thin line before it snapped and something happened. 

“Yeah,” you managed to say after a few moments of silence, his dark eyes never leaving your frame. Even with the silence, only the sound of the aging clock on the wall filling the room, you could sense that he was mulling over things in his mind. You could practically hear the gears turning, “I-I manged to come up with a few figures and events I might focus on, should any of them pique your interest.”

“I do like having my curiosity piqued,” there was a different tone to his voice and you could sense that there was bit of a double meaning to his words. But you didn’t want to get too lost in that, to let your mind wander, “tell me what you’ve come up with.”

“My main ideas are either Patrick Henry,” you looked up briefly to see if he was even interested and he nodded lightly, “or the Boston Tea Party. I know we technically haven’t covered that in class yet, but I figured I could give it a go.”

“Common topics,” he stated and you hung your head in annoyance; you thought that one of the two would be worthy of your time. He seemed to sense your dissatisfaction at his answers and shifted in his seat so he was leaning closer across his desk, and almost directly in front of you, “but I think you could make one them of them work. Give me liberty or give me death, or dumping tons of tea. Which do you prefer?”

“An overly dramatic statement or a waste of good tea,” you mused thoughtfully, tapping your pen against your chin, “I’m more disappointed in the loss of the tea. I’m thinking if I do enough digging I can focus on a few figures behind it all, lesser known figures or...something like that.”

“Well there you go,” without thinking, he reached over and grabbed your pen, earning a small sound of surprise from you. Pulling the notebook in front of him, he quickly scrawled your proposed topic down and next to that a big approved along with his signature. You couldn’t help the snort of laughter that came out of your mouth at his sudden burst of playfulness; you weren’t sure he had that kind of joking in him, “I look forward to reading to your paper. I’m sure it’ll be the best one in the class.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re the only one in class with a fucking pulse,” he leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, the picture of cool, calm, and collected. You tried not to let your eyes linger on how deliciously his crisp white button stretched across his chest, “I’ll probably get another forty papers on George Washington.”

“I do not envy you in the slightest then...Javi,” unsure if you were okay to his name you let it linger in the air slightly as he gave you a small smile, “I’ll try and make sure it’s not a complete mess then.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” he insisted, and suddenly you were unsure if you should just leave or stay. There really wasn’t any more reason to stay, now that you had figured out your topic...not that you apparently needed any help at all. Maybe you both just...wanted to be there. Drumming your fingers along the arm of the chair, you came to the conclusion that it was probably best to go. But before you could do or say anything else, he quickly asked, “do you like tea?”

“I do,” you grinned at his random question, “maybe even more than coffee.There’s nothing better than a good cup of tea at the end of the evening, especially now that’s turning to winter. Although I’m guessing you prefer coffee?”

“Lucky guess,” he clicked his tongue against his teeth, but the amusement on his face was still there.

“No,” you giggled lightly, “I’m just not blind - I’ve never seen you without a cup of coffee near you. Except today.”

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” he liked this; how easily you were able to tease him, how naturally you eased into conversation, despite the initial nerves, “what’s your favorite kind?”

“I dunno...I guess anything really,” you wondered why he was so curious, if he was just trying to be polite or he actually wanted you to stay there and speak to him, “I’ve really been liking matcha a lot.”

“Hmm,” he dragged his hand over his mustache and you couldn’t help but notice, as you had several times in the past, that there was no wedding ring, no suggestion that he’d ever worn one. Somehow it eased you ever so slightly, “sounds...interesting.”

“It’s really good,” you promised, “you should try it sometime. Well...thanks for all your help professor, I really appreciate it. Knowing I won’t be totally off the mark with this paper has made me feel better already.”

“Maybe I will,” he nodded as you slowly gathered your things and stood up, “anytime you need help, just let me know...”

“Thank you,” you heard him hastily grab a pen and then jot something down. The sound captured your attention and you turned around to see that he had piece of paper in his hand and was holding it out to you. Hesitating ever so slightly, you took it, your mouth gaping when you realized what it was, “professor...I don’t...”

“Javi,” he corrected firmly and you could barely keep yourself from combusting, “if you need any more help, at all, call me.”

“Y-yes,” your voice was a small, faltering little thing as you pocketed his phone number. Had your hot professor actually given you his phone number? The piece of paper burning a hole in your pocket firmly screamed yes, “thank you.”

Turning to leave again, he said your name softly, before you could step out of his office. Biting your lip, you turned around and found him with his hands on his hips, some sort of debate clearly raging inside from the look on his face, “are you...what are you...are you busy this weekend?”

“Umm,” clearly you needed to get your hearing check because there was no way in hell that Javier Peña, your professor, had just inquired about your weekend plans. Surely he just wanted to make sure you were dedicating your time to his assignment...right? There would be no good reason, no logical explanation for anything else, “I suppose I am. I’ve that paper to write, and some other assignments I’m trying to get a jump on.”

“R-right,” he ran his hand through his dark locks and let out a long breath, “good luck. See you in class.”

“Have a good weekend, Javi,” you offered him a small smile before stepping out and closing the door behind you. Your heart was hammering away and you could barely think straight before practically sprinting down the hallway. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and while a part of you was nervous, the majority was flushed with sheer excitement.

Once he no longer heard the sound of your feet retreating on the linoleum tile, Javi looked the door and leaned against, letting out a long groan as he realized what he had just done, “fuck. Fuck!”

He couldn’t believe that he had just willed up the audacity to all but throw himself at you. He felt like a fool, like an old fool, with remnants of his former self slowly bubbling up. But no - he wasn’t that man anymore. He was no longer taking his emotions out by aimlessly fucking women. He was older, albeit slightly, but more collected, more...of the version of him that he liked. But this? Giving his number to a student and basically asking her out? That hadn’t been part of the plan at all. 

What if you didn’t feel the same way in the slightest? What if you were just actually being nice and wanted to succeed in his class? What if he’d made you uncomfortable? Surely he’d crossed just about every professional boundary he could think of...something not foreign to him by any means, but he just hadn’t planned on it happening anymore. Not like this.

But - you hadn’t spurned his advances, hadn’t turned him away, and you’d accepted his offer of coming back. Maybe he wasn’t reading the room wrong at all...maybe he wasn’t off the mark. But at the end of the day you were the student and he was the professor...it was wrong...but not really. Not if you were both consenting adults after all.

Shaking his head to himself, he slammed his fist against the frosted glass and willed himself to pull himself together. He couldn’t be going around like this, feeling like a teenager with a crush on a pretty girl. No - he had to be Professor Peña...a good man who only made the right decisions. 

But then...why was this so hard?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier felt lost...almost awkwardly out of place as he browsed the small aisles of the tea shop. He was not a large man any means, but he felt like a bull in a china shop as he looked at the all small colorful boxes, teas, and goods. Squinting and furrowing his brow as he pulled out his glasses, he sighed when he could finally read the small lettering clearly. 

“Do you need any help finding anything?” the shrill voice was enough to have him startled and almost drop the tin in his hands. Recovering quickly, he was about to shake his head and tell her no, but he knew he was lost as could be. Instead he slowly set the tin back down and nodded, “what are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure, honestly,” he admitted, having no clue as what to you liked besides this so called matcha. He should have investigated further somehow...but that felt like it would be too obvious, instead he opted to go in blind, just like he had with so many things in the past, “I know I’m looking for some matcha and then if you have any suggestions or recommendations...”

“Shopping for yourself?” she asked and he cringed internally - he wasn’t about to spill everything to this sales woman. Oh yeah, some for myself and then some for student I seem to really like.

“More or less,” that was as much as he was willing to offer, “just giving this tea thing a try.”

“Well, I can assure you, we have some of the finest teas around,” she grabbed his arm and started leading him to a different section of the store. Javi could hardly keep up at the sudden jerk and let himself be dragged like a rag doll, “there are several types of match here, ceremonial and culinary grades. There’s also a ton of different blends, so you can try out whatever kind of flavors you like. Do you like peach?”

“I love peach,” he narrowed his eyes as he read between the lines of her statement. She was either oblivious or brash, but she offered him a flirtatious smile anyway, “I like berries most of all...”

“Well, we’ve got all the finest fruit and herbal teas in all of Texas,” she insisted, “to suit whatever your needs are.

“It’s...ugh, the matcha is for me, the rest is a gift,” he finally admitted hoping that would throw her off the scent. She was attractive, in the most conventional sense, a bottle blonde with a dazzling smile and ruby red lips that most men would adore. In another life, at another time, he might have even pursued her, spent the evening with her to quiet the demons in his mind. But now? Surprisingly...he couldn’t care less, and honestly hoped she would take the hint and leave him, “so I’m looking for...maybe a random assortment? Less common teas?”

“Wife? Girlfriend? Coworker?” Javi fought hard not to roll his eyes at her inquisition, but instead offered up a saccharine smile of his own as he shook his head. She perked up slightly at the revelation, “so...just a gift?”

“Yes, she’s...special,” he didn’t know how else to describe but it bottle blond finally understood what he meant and nodded, “so I just...want to get her something she’ll like. She’s the one that told me about the matcha.”

“Sounds like she has good taste,” her response was a little more curt this time, as she came to the conclusion that Javier was decidedly not interested in her and was unlikely to make a move. Pointedly to the back of the store, she didn’t even bother to feign enthusiasm, “that area has all the more specialty teas and less common finds. You should be able to find something there. Let me know if you have other questions.”

Turning on her heel she left him again, and Javi couldn’t help but smirk lightly to himself at her annoyance. He thumbed through the various boxes, tins, and packages of matcha, wondering what you would pick out. Reading the descriptions was no help, but eventually he settled on something basic to try. He figured that was a good place to start. 

But before he left the tea shop, one he’d meandered into Austin to find, after hearing from several people that it was the best, he made his way to the back of the shop and spent probably more time than necessary browsing their selection. He hoped you would like it...that it would be worth it. Something in his gut told him to do it, and he worked to drown out that inner little demon that told him what he was doing was wrong.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Butterflies were fluttering wildly in your stomach as you walked into class on Monday afternoon, unsure of what to expect. Would Javi be the same as always? Almost bored and tired? Or would he have some sort of renewed sense of vigor? 

You’d thought about calling him all weekend, pretending that you needed some sort of help, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you’d kept his number pinned to the cork-board in your room. Your eyes had wandered over to it on numerous occasions, but something held you back. You knew it wasn’t wrong...not inherently anyway, but you just couldn’t do it. Maybe you could see how today went and go from there....yes, today would be telling. 

But when you arrived at your seat, your eyebrows rose so high they almost disappeared into your hairline. Sitting on the desk you always occupied was a neatly wrapped bundle of tea boxes, topped with a large bow. You could see that it was several different varieties, all unusual, but somehow picked out with care. A face splitting grin appeared on your face as you picked it up and clutched to your chest, the faint smell of the teas hitting your nose. 

You turned around and let your eyes wander to the front of the room where you spied Javi setting out his notes for the day on his lecture. Almost as if he could feel your eyes on him, he looked up and offered you the best smile you ever seen. He had dimples...you never would have know before. You already loved them. 

You pointed at the bundle in your arms and mouthed a silent you? to which you were sure a flush of color rose up in his golden cheeks. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before giving you a singular nod before turning his efforts back to his notes. You slipped into your seat and put the present into your bag, making sure not to crush any of the boxes. A weird sense of warmth settled within you as you listened to him begin. 

You always knew that he kept his gaze trained in your direction when he taught, but something was different today. It was almost as if he was teaching, but only to you, his dark eyes almost never wavering from yours. You wanted to take diligent notes, truly you did, but there was something magnetic about him, and just couldn’t look away. Instead it was almost two hours if you making eyes at your Professor. Shameless, you thought to yourself, but so is he. 

Maybe you hadn’t been reading the signs wrong after all.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[something-fanfiction-ie]

Out of the Lion’s Den

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape (not against the reader), attempted rape and assault (against the reader) angst, cursing, insults, the usual super dramatic shit you see in the taken down of an unsub

A/N: Wowie wow wow wow, so this is kinda long. And I know I said I was gonna post it like two days ago, HOWEVER! In my defense, I started writing it and then about halfway through I accidentally closed tumblr so it deleted everything I had. So I went to bed defeated. But it’s here now, that’s the important thing, right? Remember to like, comment, reblog, send me asks, and just be your usual amazing selves and give me the attention that my parents never gave me as the oldest of eight. As always, THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME AND I APPRECIATE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!

___

[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four ]

December 1998

It felt good to be back home in Georgia. The wind whipped at the trees outside of the diner you and you best friend were currently catching up at. The waitress, Flora, knows you by name and sets your usual in front of you with a ruffle of your hair and a couple of southern endearments.

“Tell me everything.” Madalyn says, reaching across the table for the ketchup that was placed on your side of the booth. You swat at her hand when she makes a grab for one of your fries. Her laugh is loud and feels like home, making you smile into your drink in a way you haven’t smiled all semester.

“I’d like to preface this conversation by saying that I feel like this would be a much cooler experience if I were the same age as everyone else.” You point out, brushing your growing bangs away from your eyes with an annoyed swat. Her eyes soften with sympathy, swirling a fry into the ketchup tucked into a safe space on her plate. She doesn’t say anything though, knowing that you have more to say.

“The classes are awesome. The campus is beautiful. I learn something new all the time, which was never happening when I was going to school here,” you pause long enough to glance around the room. It’s packed with all kinds of people, from old men clustered at the counter sipping on coffees to construction workers munching on hamburgers during their break, even big families squished into booths and tables for a nice Sunday family lunch.

“But?” You shrug in response, knowing that Madalyn will be able to read you like an open book if you meet her eyes. Across the table, the amateur profiler squints her dark eyes at you with suspicion.

“Everyone just kinda avoids me. The guys are cute, but they’re all nineteen and twenty. Most of the things to do on campus, you have to be eighteen for, so I mostly just spend my time at the library or at Aunt May’s doing homework.” At this, Madalyn stops eating, raising her eyebrows with a cheeky grin.

“I bet your grades are super rad,” You resist the urge to throw a French fry in her face after what she says next. “And besides, I’m the only friend you need in your life.”

“Actually, I have made a kind of friend?” Flora is over before you can finish the drink in your cup, filling the glass with a dark, blue pitcher. When you thank her, she reaches out to pat your cheek, mumbling something about missing you while you were gone.

“Should I be jealous? Is she pretty? She may be a big sister type, but I’m your soulmate.” You laugh into your sandwich having to cover your mouth when you take a bite and the laughter doesn’t go away.

Madalyn has been your best friend for four years, although time seems to have no meaning in your relationship because nobody would doubt it if you told them you’d known her since birth. While most kids in your age group had grown up thinking you were odd, Madalyn had decided that you were just interesting. That interest had turned into a friendship that would span years and miles more than many friendships do.

While the things you both enjoyed, like Leonardo DiCaprio and Ben Affleck, certainly brought you together, it was your differences that made you click like the pieces of a puzzle. Only true friends can debate on opposite sides of an argument and then end the night eating popcorn while watching Space Jam in the living room.

“His name is Harvey.” When Madalyn’s eyebrows go up this time, it is from surprise. You’ve never been one to socialize with anyone of the opposite gender, much less become ‘kinda friends’ with them. Plus, as a young lady of very womanly curves, she’s quite aware of the way some guys cross the line on a regular basis.

“(Y/N)-” You wave your hand in the air, once again pushing at the bangs that keep falling in your face. You should have never cut them in the first place, and you never would have if you realized what a hassle they would be when you started growing them out.

“I don’t like him like that. He’s just a really nice guy, helps me with homework and walks me to a class or two. We’ve never even met up outside of school.” Her eyes are still narrowed, a stray dark wave falling from the hair comb that pins the top half of her hair away from her face.

Eventually, she changes the subject. Trusting that you are smart enough to know when things have gotten out of hand and how to take care of it.

“So why are you growing your bangs out? I thought you liked them. Didn’t you say they make you look more grown up?” You unstick your thighs from the leather booth seat, pinning her with a look that she knows all too well.

“Now that’s a crazy story.” She also makes herself comfortable in her seat, preparing herself for a story. It’s probably a good thing you’re a phenomenal story teller, or else she would have gotten tired of all the stories you tell really quickly.

“So last month a girl comes forward and reports that she was cornered by a man she didn’t know on her way from the library back to her dorm. He held her at gun point and rapes her. It got kinda big, because she was rallying a group of men and women to escort girls around campus. And, I mean, I understand the unease she must feel, and I was sympathetic, but I was kind of confused why there was so much uproar over one rape.”

Having finished your own fries, you reach across the table and steal one from your outraged best friend. Before she can grab it back, you’ve shoved it into your mouth.

“Until a second girl comes forward and says that she reported the same thing happening to her a month ago. The campus, meanwhile, is doing nothing about it. No increased security, no curfew, not even acknowledged them.”

“For two girls?”

“For five,” The pause you take is natural, scooting the bottom of your cup across the tabletop so you could sip from the straw without picking the cup up, but it reads as dramatic effect. “And that’s not even the craziest part.”

One dark eyebrow raised into her hairline, waiting for you to continue the story and also answer the question.

“Every victim was a freshman, so they’re a little on the younger side, they all had the same hair color and style, all had the same body type, all were the same height, all had the same eye color.” This time you do pause for dramatic effect, using the silence to build the tension.

“And all of them look exactly like me. Bangs and all.”

Madalyn leans forward a little, suddenly very worried about you going back next month. As she hurriedly tries to make sure you are taking the necessary precautions during a scary time like this, Flora floats around the diner, stopping to fill up the cup of a single man just behind your booth. All he has is black coffee, a textbook of some kind is splayed open across the table but he doesn’t seem to be too interested in it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, his ears listening to your every word.

“So in summary, I’m growing out my bangs because that’s obviously apart of this dude’s type.” Madalyn doesn’t protest anymore when you reach for another fry on her plate.

“Stop looking at me like that. I’m going to be fine. I’ll even color my hair if you’re so worried.” And the conversation continues, your best friend overly worried about you and your life as a fifteen year old college student, and you masking your fear for appearances sake. Harvey, however, finishes his coffee and asks for the bill.

He thought you were smarter than that. He thought you were smart enough to connect the dots and at least notice that he’d done all of it for you. That you were his everything. Apparently that was wrong. One day you’ll figure it out, of that he is certain.

For now though, you don’t even notices when he passes your table to get to the door.

Present Day

Spencer steps away from the car door, the cool wind hitting his cheeks and tousling his hair. It helps the dizziness in his head, and the nausea in his stomach, but it doesn’t help the sharp pain in his heart. His brain is swimming in all of the information, putting the pieces of the crime scene together like it was a puzzle.

“He left her in the driver’s seat after stabbing her from the backseat, walking around the front before knocking her out and carrying her to his own vehicle.” JJ looks back at the car, peering around crime scene analysts as they hurry about collecting evidence.

“She tried to leave, but her tires spun in the mud.” Rossi notes, nodding to the mud splatter along the sides of your car and the tiny graves each tire has dug into the ground for itself.

“There’s blood in the back.” Spencer finally speaks, looking away from the backseat window and back to his two partners. All eyes flick to the back seat where there is indeed two drops of blood on the floor and a smear of it on the headrest of the passenger seat.

“If he’s in any system then we’ll catch him.” Rossi said, nodding for the techs to collect what they could from the back. Spencer turns back to the car, well aware that there wasn’t anything else here for them the find that would lend them any information as to your whereabouts.

“In a system or not, I will hunt him to the ends of the earth before I let him get away with this.”

Back at the BAU, Prentiss makes calls to your mother and your best friend, Madalyn. Both answer on the first ring, and both are all the more willing to answer any questions that may assist the team in finding the man who had taken you.

“Is there anyone you remember (Y/N) mentioning that maybe stood out to you or her as creepy and stalkerish?” Your mother doesn’t recall anyone, having been focused on so many different cases during your childhood and having been so distant from you since you decided to not become a detective.

Madalyn, however, is quick to answer with a name Prentiss recalls crossing off the list of persons of interest.

“Harvey Morgenstein. They were friends in college, and although it weirded me out because he was a lot older than her at the time, he seemed harmless and I trusted (Y/N). But then he became her agent’s personal assistant all coincidentally and it just seemed too fishy to me.” Prentiss writes the name down, sliding it across the table with a pointed look at Garcia.

As quick as lightning, Harvey’s life history is pulled up between computer screens for both women to delve into.

Harvey is a short man with a wide build that, in earlier pictures, shows him to be more soft than muscly. His hair is dirty blonde but his eyes are two dark circles of coal that seem to pierce through the screen and into the souls of both Penelope and Emily.

“He’s totally not creepy looking.” Garcia remarks sarcastically, eyes sweeping across the information given to her the way Reid’s eyes might fly up and down the pages of a book or a case file.

“Tell me about it.” Emily replies, leaning into the seat designated for those on the team who so wished to give Penelope a visit while remaining off their feet.

“Harvey is a pretty normal guy for the most part. Single child of a Harvey and Lucille Morgenstein. Graduated from Georgetown in 2000 with a major in computer technology, minor in criminology.”

“The same graduating class as (Y/N).” Prentiss notes, her eyes just behind Garcia’s as articles and documents fly around the computer. Where some people talked with their hands, Garcia talked with her screens. The constant tap-tap-tapping of rings and fingers against the keyboard was like the audible churnining of cogs in her brain.

“Yeah, he spent some time as an IT guy at Georgetown before he got a job as a personal assistant. The only spot on his squeaky clean record that I can find is that he was a person of interest in a few rape cases involving some girls on campus back in the late 90’s, but he had alibis for every single one so they let him walk.” The pictures of every victim pop up across the screen in the form of a newspaper article talking about the serial rappings.

Gasps come from both their mouths as the dots connect.

“Call Reid and the others, and then call the agent. I think I may know what is going on.”

A couple of hours later and the pieces are all starting to come together.

Harvey had been the serial rapist from the 90s, attacking women who looked like you out of anger over not having you for himself, and pure obsession. After graduation, he tried to move on by distancing himself from you, but when his mother was diagnosed with cancer he fell back into his old stalkerish ways.

He followed your every move through your agent, who was the only person you spoke to the most outside of your mom and Madalyn.

After a little digging into unsolved rape cases in the area, it was obvious from the victimology and an oddly specific M.O. where he bit each of his victims on the neck, that he had also fallen back into his perverted rapist ways.

Harvey might have been content to stay like that, an obvious self esteem issue keeping him from ever approaching you directly for a date, until a month ago. Not even two days after the death of his sick mother, you and Spencer went on your first date outside of the bookstore. A double trigger.

In a sick and twisted display of love, Harvey started killing people the way you’d written deaths in your books. But with every death you continued to ignore him and see Spencer.

“Eventually it all became too much for him to handle and he snapped, kidnapping (Y/N) and calling to taunt Reid over his victory.” Hotch passed a hand over his face. The sirens blared loudly as they raced for Harvey’s house just outside of Quantico.

“This guy has been stalking her for a ridiculous amount of time.” Morgan commented with a shudder, sympathy and guilt from the earlier interrogation eating at him as the black SUV careens around a corner.

When they bust through his door, clearing each room and finding a creepy amount of pictures and papers about you, they realize that he has taken you somewhere else. And who do you call when you’re at a dead end and you need information?

“You’ve reached Penelope Garcia in the FBI’s Office of Supreme Genius.”

___

Breaking a chair that is nailed to the floor is a lot harder than it sounds, and it already sounds kinda hard.

There was a lot of kicking and hitting and some bruises were definitely starting to form, but the amount of blood coming from your leg was scary. The chances that the knife had nicked your femoral artery were relatively slim, especially given how long you’ve been bleeding, but you couldn’t help but waver on the side of caution.

After several failed attempts of throwing your body into the wood and kicking and hitting and pulling and crying and then repeating the cycle, you managed to pop a leg off. While the base of the leg stayed nailed to the floor, you spent the rest of your time trying to tear the chair from the rest of the legs, when you did you threw the top half against the concrete wall.

Taking two spindles from the back, you quickly scurry back to the mattress and wait for him to return. It’s only a matter of time before he decides to come back down here to taunt you or try something.

In your short time in what Harvey has so lovingly deemed ‘your room,’ you have come to a couple conclusions in an attempt to distract yourself from the excruciating pain in your thigh.

One being that this is not Harvey’s home. Of that you’re one hundred percent certain. Upstairs, you can hear the sound of two sets of feet thudding around. You can only assume this is his childhood home. You remember that his mother had died about a month ago, causing him to resign from his position as your agent’s personal assistant. She had mentioned to you that he planned to help his father as much as he could before he too passed away.

The second being that you were probably going to loose your leg. Any move this way or that sends a thousand knives through every nerve in your body. Your throat is scratchy and sore from how long you’ve been yelling, both in trying to get someone’s attention and in pain.

The light coming from the small window next to the ceiling hasn’t even begun to wane with the falling sun when the door opens again. The chain around your uninjured leg clatters when you pull your knee up to your chest. You don’t even attempt to move the other leg.

Harvey appears in the opening, a tray of food balances in his hands as he shuts the door behind him.

“Find some weapons?” He asks casually, setting the tray beside the lamp as he sinks to his knees on the mattress. Your knuckles are white around each spindle, the inside of your mouth is sensitive to the touch from how much nervous chewing you’ve been doing.

“Get away from me, or I’ll kill you.” You seethe, fighting through the swimming in your head that hasn’t gone away since you woke up here. He gives you a look like you’re a misbehaving child, but it’s soon replaced with anger when you slap him across the face with one of your weapons.

You were hoping the attack would break skin, but all it does is turns the skin over his cheekbone dark red.

Faster than you can blink, he pins both your wrists with one of his hands above your head on the mattress, using the other hand to deftly pluck each spindle from your grip.

“I’ve done so much for you. I’ve given you a room, and a career, and so much more, and yet you attack me.” The wooden spindles hit the wall next to the door, his body lowers to yours in a way you know means more trouble.

“You’re a creep and a perv and I don’t want you to touch me! You’ve done nothing for me. Only for yourself.” In a way that would make any young boy proud to know you, you collect all the spit and bile in your mouth before shooting it into his face. Part of it hits him in the eye, causing him to roar in outrage.

He lets you go, giving you a brief moment of relief, but he only wipes away the loogey before rocking his hand back hard enough to crack against the side of your face. In your moment of disorientation, he flips you to your stomach and undoes the cuff from around your leg. The chain rings against the ground when he tosses it to the side.

His knee went to your back, his hands went to your waist, and the moment you manage to come back to yourself, your fingers clawed at whatever flesh you could find near you. You screamed and flailed as much as you could, the shooting pain of your leg barely noticeable when your body was in panic mode.

All you can think as that this is the kind of thing you read about. People don’t actually get kidnapped and rapped by people they knew in college. But you know that isn’t true either. You are the daughter of a detective, things like this were apart of your everyday life growing up. Just never as personal as you or a friend being the victim. For some reason that makes you fight harder, a sickly feelings creeping into your throat when you felt his fingers brush under the hem of your underwear.

Then a sound pulled you from your hysteria, the door fell to the ground and a swarm of FBI Agents descended upon the concrete basement you still refused to call ‘your room.’ Spencer was the last of them to enter, but the unadulterated fury in his eyes was enough to tell you that was not a decision on his part.

To you, and maybe even everyone else in the room who managed to look at him for longer than a millisecond, he looked like an avenging angel. Every chocolate caramel curl perfectly framed his face, which looked like it was carved out of stone. His jaw was so tense you could slice your finger if your ran it along the edge. The revolver in his hands was unwavering, only growing in steadiness when he caught compromising position you were in.

The sob that came out of your throat was one of relief. Harvey lifted you from the mattress, reaching into his pocket to pull out that damned pocket knife. He held you so close to his chest that it made your skin crawl.

“Harvey Morgensten, drop the weapon.” Morgan’s voice boomed around the room. Harvey held you with one arm tensed around the front of your shoulders and the other holding a knife to your neck.

“She’s mine! You weren’t supposed to be able to find us!” He screamed, you winced away from the shrilling pitch that scraped against the inside of your ear. It caused him to push the knife into the skin over your exposed collarbone, blood beading around the the metal tip. Your heart was hammering beneath your ribs, your hands flexing at your sides, your mind racing for a way to get out of this situation.

Spencer’s lip went up in a snarl, you half expected him to let a growl tear through his chest as if he was a lion standing against an enemy. The hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention when he took a hesitant step forward, his eyes softening for just a fraction of a second when he looks down at you.

In that fraction of a second all of his defenses fall and you can see all the grief and panic in the bags under his eyes and the raw skin of his bottom lip.

“She was never yours, Harvey.” Spencer says, wincing when Harvey responds by yanking you even closer than before. His breath is hot on your neck, his lips so close that they brush against the skin on the back of your shoulder when he speaks.

“She was never yours, Dr. Reid. She is mine, she always will be.” You cry out in surprise, your fingers coming up to scratch at the arm around your shoulders when a pair of teeth sink into the crook of your neck as if you were the victim of a vampire or something equally supernatural and territorial.

The action has the desired effect on every agent watching, especially Reid, who stumbles forward before Hotch grabs him by the back of his arm. They don’t have a shot, not without hurting you. That much you can tell just from the look they share. It doesn’t take a genius to look around and see that the end of every gun in the room is pierced right through you.

It makes you angry. You grind the back of your teeth together when a dark chuckles echoes from behind you. In your mind’s eye, you see it all happening the way you see a scene from a book playing before you like a movie.

Reaching up with one hand, you grab the onto the arm holding the knife. With the pad of your thumb, you shove every bit of strength you have into the soft skin at the inside of his wrist. At the same time, you pull your head forward before sending it reeling back onto his already broken nose. This time, you can feel the crunch of bones as your skull makes contact with his face.

Simultaneously, he drops the knife to the floor with a cry and drops his arms to reach for his gushing nose. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you manage the couple of steps forward into Spencer’s arms. In a quick and graceful display of surprising strength, he carries you back into his embrace and spins around to shield you from the monster staggering back toward you.

Prentiss is quick to catch him in his blind pursuit for you, twisting both of his arms back without an ounce of sympathy for his pain. The jingle of handcuffs precede the finality of each click around his wrists.

“Everything I did, I did for you! I made your book come to life, I ruined the reputation of those girls, I did it all for you.” Harvey struggles against the restraints, twisting his body any way that he can to get a glimpse of you curled into Spencer’s chest.

You brain is caught between reality and a distant world, everything around you feels like make believe. Only the feeling of Spencer’s sweater curled into your fingers and his hand on the back of your head feels real. Harvey’s voice is like a recording being played three blocks away, still loud enough to hear but not close enough to focus on. He’s hissing threats and insults at Spencer’s back, that psycho-something in him finally snapping under the circumstances.

Somebody is yelling for a medic and there, just underneath it all, is the sound of someone wailing in such a way that words could never accurately describe the intense pain and grief being carried on every screaming sob. As the events from the last twelve hours come rushing back to you, reality takes the reins of your mind.

It’s you that’s crying like that. That desperate, broken sound is coming from your heaving chest. When your leg finally gives out from under you, the pain too much for your body to bare, he was already there holding you.

The screams fade into small shattered sobs just in time for medics to descend the stairs. Their hands are voices are everywhere, medical jargon flying over your head as they pry your hands from Spencer’s sweater. You pull back from every touch, the thoughts in your brain flying too fast for you to keep up.

It takes them a while to get you to the ambulance, but when they do you start to panic.

“Spencer?!” You cry out, unable to move your head too much due to the neck brace and head strap holding you down. It takes only a second for him to come into view, his eyes glassy and his smile watery. His hand slips into yours before they raise you up to the ambulance, your hand is icy to the touch.

The paramedics had mentioned a possible concussion, excessive blood loss, and signs of acute compartment syndrome. The fact that you had remained conscious and walking this long was a testament to your strong will and fighting spirit.

“Don’t leave me.” You whispered, the black around the edges of your vision creeping in despite how hard you fought it. Spencer almost winced from how hard you tightened the grip on his fingers. His mouth moved, but you never heard the response, your mind fading quickly with every second.

“Don’t leave.”

The sound of a heart monitor steadily beeping was what woke you up. Groaning from all the aches and pains that surged up with consciousness, your eyes fluttered open before squinting into the bright hospital lights.

Your mother was the first thing that popped into your field of vision. The last time she had looked at you with such worry, you’d been in the ER after flipping your car into a ditch. In your defense, it was dark and, as a young driver, you over corrected when you hit a patch of standing water.

“Mama?” You pushed up on the bed, the pillow behind your head falling to the space between your lower back and the mattress. Your mom was quick to pick it up and fluff it back behind your head. She must really be concerned. Had they found cancer while you were out or something?

“Oh my goodness, (Y/N), you had me so worried.” Gingerly, you pressed the heel of your hand to the bandage that stuck to your hair and the corner of your head. Brushing the butterfly stitches that went across the cut on your cheek, you barely had time to react before she pulled you into a breath-stealing hug.

The wound on your neck smarted with the movement and you hissed in pain. Your mom pulled back, squishing your cheeks between her hands as tears began to collect on her lower lash line. Your mother was not the type to cry, about really anything, as far as you knew of. So to see her tearing up like this only added to the confusion and shock you were already feeling.

“Never join law enforcement. I thought I wanted you to, but I can’t deal with this kidnapping and near-death nonsense. I’m getting too old for it.” She teased tenderly, releasing your face from the death grip of love to wipe away the tears before they fell down her cheeks.

“When did you get here?” You asked, taking note of all the wires and tubes that connected to your body via IVs and sticky pads. A glance down at your leg eased the fear that you might have sustained a leg wound that would take your leg from you. You didn’t move it for fear of the pain you could already feel throbbing to the beat of your heart.

The bed dipped under your mother’s weight as she sat beside you, gathering one of your hands into both of hers. Scars littered the knuckles that had wiped away your tears and taught you to throw punches.

“I only got here about an hour ago, but you’ve had round the clock protection from the FBI so no need to get panicky. I can see that look creeping into your eyes.” Her own eyes squint a little, those highly observant detective skills kicking in. She’s always been able to read you like an open book, making you wonder if she would have been good at profiling.

Of course she would have, your mother was good at everything she set her mind to.

“FBI?” You’re full of so many questions, but they all fall away when you mom shifts out of your line of sight to reveal the sleeping agent tucked away into the corner of the room.

Spencer is curled onto a hospital chair that is placed into a corner beside the window looking out over the parking lot. His back is leaned against the wall, one shoulder leaned against the back of the chair. One long leg is curled into the seat and the other is stretched out next to the chair. From across the room, you can see the shadows his eyelashes cast across his cheekbones in slumber. Oddly enough, your first thought is of Sleeping Beauty.

The sight is enough to make your heart feel like it’s squeezing around a ball of broken glass. Before your mother can read too much into the mixture of emotions that, surely, skew your features, you look away.

“He’s been here since they brought you in. I met his team, they’re a fine group of agents. You didn’t tell me you were friends with anyone in the FBI.” Before she can say anything else, you clear your throat. Putting one hand, a little dramatically, to your chest you give your mother a look you haven’t used since you were a kid trying to stay home from school.

“Mama, I’m a little hungry. Can you get me something to eat?” It works like a charm. You’ve never seen your mother jump so quickly before, she races out the door like a woman on a mission. It warms your aching heart.

“Maybe you should have tried acting.” Spencer’s voice is groggy with sleep as he sits up and stretches into awareness.

“How long have you been awake?” He meets your gaze, his expression soft and earth-shaking. When you imagined seeing Spencer wake up first thing in the morning, it was never in a hospital room while feelings of betrayal and confusion stabbed into your chest.

“Just long enough to hear your mom talk about my team. She’s a nice lady.” He doesn’t move from the chair, sensing the tension in the room the way only a profiler can. He’s afraid that if he gets up, you’ll make him leave. He doesn’t need to know that he’s right.

“How long have I been out?” You’re asking every question except the one you’ve been dying to ask.

“A day. You had a pretty bad concussion and acute compartment syndrome in your leg. They weren’t sure you were going to be able to retain control of the muscle given how long you were kept hostage with it untreated, but I know you’re too stubborn to let that happen.” The silence that follows is stifling, your eyes interlocked in a battle of wills.

Was this the same man that had accused you of being a serial killer?

You’re the first to look away, fidgeting with a fray string from the blanket thrown over your legs.

“I think we need some time apart.”

“I’m so incredibly sorry.” You both speak at the same time, but your words drain the blood from Spencer’s face when they finally register. He had hoped that, by some miracle, you would forgive him of the unforgivable sin he had committed against you in the name of justice. He understood why you didn’t.

“I just,” The threads of the blanket you recognize from your childhood bedroom bump underneath your fingers when you smooth your hand over it, “I want to forgive you. But all I keep thinking is that none of this would have happened to me if you had used all those brains in your head instead of all the insecurities in you heart.”

It’s like a slap across the face, and yet Spencer can’t help but feel like he deserves it. Even still, none of it hurts as much as the crack in your voice and the tears that you try so desperately to blink away before he can see them.

It isn’t often that Spencer Reid is rendered speechless, but the guilt and heartache have stolen all the words of every language and all the breath from the air right out of his mouth.

“It’s still so fresh in my mind, I think if we distance ourselves then we’ll be able to come back to something rather than trying to scramble to bridge together the chasm that has formed between us.”

He wants to argue, everything in him screams that he needs to fight for you, but the look in your eyes stops him. If you need space, then space is what he will give you. Spencer would do anything to make this right. He wishes he had the intelligence and technology to build a time machine and go back to two mornings ago.

“I understand,” he says solemnly, trying to talk around the hurt in his chest that is growing like a tumor. “But I promised I wouldn’t leave you. I’ll give you space, but I’m only giving you the space of the wall between this room and the hallway.”

And then he’s gone, staying true to his word and sinking to the floor outside your room. When you mother comes back, holding a collection of jellos and cookies and granola bars from the hospital cafeteria, her steps falter at the sight of the young doctor outside your door.

Inside you’re curled into yourself, taking very deliberate breaths into the cotton stuffed pillow you have buried into your chest. You half expect your heart monitor to be screaming for the nurses, but despite a small quickening in the constant beeps, it gives away none of your heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” You look up, meeting your mothers eyes with tear stained cheeks. Your head is going to be throbbing later, but for now you’re only focused on the sharp pains shooting through your ribs and clouding every other pain in your body.

Between one gasp of air and the next, your mother drops all the foods to the chair vacated by Spencer before rushing to pull you into her arms.

“Can you die from a broken heart?” You whimper, feeling like a small child as you bury your head into her chest. She smells like home, running her hand over the back of your head with gentle shushing sounds.

Outside, Spencer wipes at his own tears, a silent statue of sadness protecting you from everything but himself.

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 1: Charlotte

Summary: Motley Crue High School AU with The Pack (Lola, Charlotte, Peach, & Eileen); Winter, 1984. Charlotte’s halfway through her Junior year of High School when Lola arrives in town, and becomes a part of Charlotte’s life almost by accident. 

Tommy seems to fall for any girl he hasn’t grown up with, Nikki and Charlotte are in agreement that their friendship becoming public knowledge would be social suicide for them both, Vince is a tool, and Eileen is still mad at him for what happened over Summer. 

A/N: 8829 words. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @misscharlottelee this has literally been in the works for what’s felt like a year, but i decided that i can’t keep putting it off forever, so here. part 1. i think im going to try and put these out weekly?? maybe sooner?? but i adore you and i of course absolutely adore @josaphinebaker so i’m glad to finally let you all enjoy the long-awaited, multi-part HS AU (me, not posting writing for months: AND WHAT’S THIS? THE HS AU WITH A STEEL CHAIR --) ft. a softer world quotes

who said life can’t be an adventure? because whoever said that is probably the villain.

There’s a place for everything, and everything has it’s place. That’s they way the world works, at least, that’s the motto the rest of the cheerleading team seems to adhere to almost religiously. Charlotte, who’s been on the team for almost a full year and a half, since the start of her Sophmore year, can’t see the world so black and white. It’s not that she signed up to be a Cheerleader to fulfil some bitchy, blonde stereotype, it’s more that she had free time to fill and thought it would be fun. It took her a few months to find her footing once she’d been offered a place on the team, and was quickly thrust into her school’s the social spotlight, but she managed in the end, and had been managing ever since, mostly.

“Charlie, you’re so lucky,” Tommy, her cousin, lamented to her, driving her home after cheer practice, and marching band, had finished for the day. He was still in his uniform, as was Charlotte, and she gave him a sidelong glance, picking at the nail polish on her thumb. She doesn’t even give him an answer; ever since she’d joined the team, he had felt the need to wax poetic about the other cheerleaders and their uniforms. It’s so familiar that she doesn’t even need to prompt him into mooning over seeing Pamela in the cafeteria that day.

“She’s never going to date you if you don’t talk to her,” Charlotte’s smile is sly as her gaze slides back to the road, and the sun drifting towards the horizon.

“If Pam ever found out I’d looked at her, she’d probably just spit on me, call me pathetic or some shit,” Tommy’s eyeroll is implied by the flatness of his tone, but Charlotte can’t help but laugh.

“Oh Tommy, everyone looks at Pam,” she reminds him, and Tommy lets out an annoyed whine.

“I know,” he groans, clearly not cheered by that fact, feeling ever the more hopeless, and they fall into silence. Charlotte reaches down beside her seat and lifts a lever, pushing the seat back so she could comfortably rest her feet on his dashboard.

“Did you hear someone finally bought the MacCready burger joint? Dad was talking about it yesterday,” Tommy says mildly, making a left-hand turn onto their street. Charlotte raises her eyebrows, intrigued, but doesn’t speak. Tommy knows her well enough to take her silence as an invitation to go on, “Mrs Mac is going into hospice care and apparently some guy bought it and moved into town.”

“Oh shit, poor Mrs Mac,” Charlotte muses, and crosses her ankles on the dash, “hopefully their food is edible now.”

“Their burgers were great!” Tommy protested loudly.

“Their burgers were trash, Tommy! You’re just a rat -!”

“I’m not a rat!” He argues back, pulling into the gas station around the corner from their house. Tommy pulls up beside one of the pumps, and Charlotte gets out to browse the various snacks on offer inside the service station.

“Afternoon, Mick,” Charlotte calls out to the gas station attendant, the guy who’s been working here since he was fourteen, who’s currently got an electrical apprenticeship every other day. Charlotte realizes she might know too much about him considering he barely communicates in grunts most of the time. It’s not that he can’t speak, it’s just that he has a well documented dislike of her over exuberant cousin.

As expected, Mick doesn’t look up from his copy of Rolling Stone behind the counter, but makes a noise of acknowledgement.

Before Tommy has finished filling the tank, an unfamiliar figure enters the gas station, breezing past Charlotte and snatching up a packet of pork rinds, moving to the drinks fridge and taking a can of lemonade. The person is a young woman, though Charlotte doesn’t get a good look at her face; she’s got silky, black hair down to the small of her back, beneath a backwards baseball cap, and she’s the most notable of her clothes are her scuffed, black boots, and her oversized, black denim jacket littered with patches and pins. 

When she puts her items on the counter in front of Mick, she pauses, frowning at the display, and Tommy enters the shop with an oblivious smile, asking if Charlotte had decided on anything.

“Can I help you?” Mick asks flatly, and the girl holds up a single finger, the universal signal for wait, and Mick huffs, but remains quiet. The girl adds a packet of gum to her haul, and leans her elbows on the counter.

“And a pack of Marlboros.”

Mick scowls.

“How old are you?”

“Are you being paid enough to care?” She responds, voice a low, challenging alto, and after a moment of deliberation, Mick actually shrugs, and turns to the cigarette display, picking out a pack for her as she pulled a few bills from her back pocket. After everything’s paid for, and the various food and drink had been stashed in the numerous pockets of her jacket, the girl is quick to open the cigarettes. 

“They’re for my dad,” she explains, taking one out and putting it between her lips, grinning, “mostly.”

She passes a bewildered Tommy and Charlotte on the way out, giving them a flat look over, eyebrow raising minutely at the sight of Charlotte’s cheerleading uniform, but she’s quickly out the door. Tommy, flabbergasted at her display of confidence, marches straight up to counter and leans on it like he’d seen the woman do.

“A pack of -”

“Fuck off,” Mick tells him, before Tommy even finishes his sentence. Charlotte snorts a laugh, approaching the counter with a bottle of diet coke. 

“Fifteen bucks on pump three,” Tommy sighs, pulling out his wallet, “and Charlie’s drink.”

“Do you know her, Mick?” Charlotte asks, still smiling, mind playing over the interaction.

“Do I look like I know her?” Mick grumbles, counting the handful of quarters Tommy had passed him with a ten dollar bill. Tommy, however, has never in his life taken Mick’s constant foul mood to heart, even when he probably should.

“He loves me, secretly, I know he does,” Tommy grinned when they were back in the car, heading to Charlotte’s house to drop her off, “we’ve known each other for five years, we’ll be friends any day now.”

“Tommy, he’s three days away from just decking you when you go to pay.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw me in front of traffic,” Tommy, ever the optimistic dumbass, chooses to look on the bright side. Tommy wears his affection on his sleeve, and seems to find himself trying to befriend anyone who would sooner fight him, if his hero-worship of local punk Nikki Sixx is anything to go by. It’s with a painful clarity that Charlotte realizes if he ever meets the girl from the gas station, he’s going to fall in love with her almost immediately.

Which makes Charlotte’s accidental and secret friendship with Nikki Sixx awkward.

“Oh Miss Lee,” Nikki whistles at her the following morning, wearing a grin that’s all teeth, “you know just what a guy likes to see on a Thursday morning.” He’s leering at her, leaning on the mesh of the fence, fingers hooked into the metal as he presses himself against it, his gaze trained on the pleat of her cheer uniform split upon her thigh over her tights.

“Every time you speak, I consider vehicular homicide,” Charlotte tells him with a sigh, straightening out her skirt, already resigned to the fact the rest of her free period was about to be co-opted. 

“Then I’m glad you can’t drive,” Nikki’s still grinning, throwing his bag over the fence, into the garden Charlotte had thought was peaceful enough to study in.

“It’s the only thing keeping you alive,” she says, plastering a fake, sweet smile on her face, closing her biology textbook as Nikki vaults the fence a few feet away from her. She pulls her jacket a little tighter around herself, in an attempt to ward off the slight chill of the end of semester air.

Never in Charlotte’s life would she have intentionally tried to befriend Nikki Sixx. How was she supposed to know that two of her free periods coincided with when he liked to show up to school? And that the secluded garden area out behind the library where she liked to study in said free periods was the easiest place to sneak in? 

She’s threatened to turn him in more times than he can remember, and he spits back that she should just find a new place to study, but she keeps showing up, and she never turns him in, and by now most of Nikki’s flirting is harmless.

They were both very much of the opinion that having a public friendship would be bad for the both of them; Nikki’s got more than a reputation of his own, both because his name technically isn’t Nikki, but he fights anyone who calls him Frank, and because he’s kind of a slut. Also there’s still an unconfirmed rumour about him being expelled from his first high school back in Seattle, since he’d joined their school a semester in Freshman year. Everyone’s too afraid to ask. Charlotte knows the cheerleaders aren’t above making hell for one of their own if they were caught fraternizing with someone like him. 

That being said, Nikki had made it very clear that he’d rather saw off his arm than admit that they were even acquaintances, scoffing about how he’d lose any and all street cred he’d ever had if his friends found out he was hanging around Miss Everyone’s Best Friend Charlotte Lee. At the time, she’d taken offence to his tone, but she quickly came to learn that that’s just how Nikki is sometimes.

He offers her a cigarette from the pack in his pocket like he always does, sitting opposite her on the picnic bench instead of going to class, his bag still on the grass where he’d thrown it. Like always, Charlotte turns it down, but it does remind her-

“Saw a girl yesterday at Mick’s gas station that reminded me of you,” Charlotte flips to the back page of her notebook, which was already littered with little drawings, and starts scribbling idly.

“She hot?”

“I guess?” Charlotte says after a moment of consideration, “didn’t get to see her long enough to really be able to tell.” Nikki hums thoughtfully, and Charlotte, without looking up, “she asked Mick for cigarettes and he was like ‘how old are you?’ and she was like ‘are you being paid enough to care?’“ 

Nikki takes a long draft from his own cigarette, and kindly turns to the side to blow smoke into the wind, instead of directly into Charlotte’s face, as he used to do, or like he does when he’s annoyed.

“Mick would have mad respect for a move like that,” Nikki snorts, and when Charlotte looks up from her notebook, she sees him looking off into the distance, giving a genuine smile at the mental image. Maybe this is why she puts up with him, these rare genuine moments. He raises the cigarette to his lips again, and looks back at her, eyebrows raised, as if prompting her to go on. Charlotte looks back at her notebook.

“It inspired Tommy to try and buy smokes too, but Mick shut him down fast; I swear, if we show up when he’s clocking off, he’s going to K.O Tommy the first chance he gets.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw him in front of traffic,” Nikki notes, and Charlotte pauses, frowning. She hadn’t realised her hyperbolic threats on Mick’s behalf were a standard unit of measurement for how much he did or didn’t like her cousin. They were bullshit! Why did anyone take them seriously? Charlotte’s often astounded at her own credibility, and how much people tend to take her at her word without question.

“What’s she look like?” Nikki asks, flicking his ash into the grass, bringing Charlotte out of her thoughts.

“Who?”

“The girl from the gas station.”

“Oh,” Charlotte pauses, thinking, finally settling on, “she was wearing heaps of dark shit, had black hair, maybe that’s why I thought of you. I don’t know who she is though, didn’t recognize her from anywhere.” She adds, and Nikki hums thoughtfully, nodding. With his free hand, he snatches her pen out of her grip, despite her yelp of protest, and begins doodling pentagrams on the back cover of her notebook. 

“You free tomorrow night?”

“I’d rather die than date you.”

“Charlie, you’re not my type -”

“Nikki, your type is tits and a heartbeat.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d fuck you, but I’d rather be castrated than date you,” Nikki responds flatly, and Charlotte quickly shuts up, scowling, “but my band has a gig at a place that doesn’t card, so if you and that overgrown Labrador you call a cousin can sneak away from mommy and daddy for the night, you’re more than welcome to come party with the big kids.” He smirked, flicking Charlotte’s pen back at her. Charlotte’s annoyance has simmered down at his offer, considering his words. 

“Nikki Sixx inviting me to see his band,” she mused, sly smile curling at the corners of her lips, mischief glinting in her eyes, “you like me, don’t you? You like Miss Everyone’s Best Friend. Soon I’m going to be your best friend too!” At least she was self aware enough about her people-pleasing tendencies to poke fun at his scorn.

“I like that you’re cousin’s obsessed with me, so bring him too,” Nikki’s quick to correct, but his heart’s not fully in it, if the smile he’s failing to repress is anything to go by, “I’m just in it for the ego trip, sweetheart.”

Charlotte gags at the pet name; the bell rings.

“She smells like an ash tray,” is the first thing Charlotte hears when she sits herself with the rest of the cheer squad at lunch, and she’s terrified for a moment that Heather, the Vice Captain of the squad, is talking about her. Discretely, Charlotte sniffs at her hair, worried that the perfume she’d spritzed to hide any of Nikki’s lingering smoke had worn off quickly. Heather’s not even looking at her, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to the other gathered girls.

“Heather, half the people at this school smell like smoke,” Eileen cuts in as the voice of reason, taking a dainty bite of her food to punctuate her point. Heather’s expression sours.

“Yeah, but she’s pretty, why would she smoke?”

“Heather, you smoke,” Eileen rolls her eyes, and Heather sits back, crossing her arms, long, dainty fingers resting on her perfectly tanned and toned biceps.

“Yeah, but at least I have the decency not to smell like the bottom of an ashtray,” Heather raises an eyebrow, as if offering some form of challenge, and Charlotte watches Eileen bite back on a scathing retort, simply offering a withering smile, and continuing on with her lunch, “anyway,” Heather rolls her eyes, and starts up a new conversation with the girls on her other side, who were hanging onto her every word like it was gospel.

It’s quite possible that the tensions between Heather and Eileen may never actually die down, Charlotte considers, fiddling with the plastic-wrapped straw of her juice box. The thing is that Heather had only scored the position of Vice Captain of the cheerleading squad after Eileen, practically a shoe-in after two years on the squad and a pretty impressive acrobatic repertoire, publicly turned down the offer, quit, and joined the swim team the very next day, refusing to give a reason for any of her actions. A vicious joke circled the school about Heather being sloppy seconds, and despite Eileen never actually contributing to the joke in any way, or even acknowledging it, part of Heather still obviously resented her. The fact that Eileen still chose to sit with the cheerleaders despite not being one anymore, might also play into that, like she’s rubbing it in Heather’s face, even though she never would intend to do that.

Charlotte’s known Eileen for what feels like forever, since Summer camp in Grade School, living close enough to maintain a friendship, but not close enough that they were in the same district for Grade or Middle School. Both academically and socially minded young women, they’d found themselves in a number of clubs in those years that brought them face to face at meet or competitions, and thankfully, their local high school drew from a wider range of districts, finally bringing them together as allies, rather than competitors. 

“Who were they talking about?” Charlotte asks quietly, stabbing her straw into her juice box, trying to keep their conversation discrete.

“A girl transferred into our grade -”

“On a Thursday?” Charlotte scoffs a little, “with three weeks left to go before Winter break?” And Eileen makes a noise in the back of her throat, an I know, it’s weird, right? Without saying any actual words. 

“Something Fields; we just had French with her,” Eileen nods to where Heather’s now happily chattering with the other cheerleaders, earlier disagreement seemingly forgotten.

“Something?” Charlotte asked wryly, and Eileen gave her an amused look.

“Madame Laurent’s accent would butcher the name Sally, I’m surprised I managed to understand Fields,” and okay, she has a point, Madame Laurent’s French accent was half the reason any of the students studied the language, if only to understand her, because her English, while technically good, was sometimes incomprehensible. 

“The girl didn’t correct her?”

“Nah, just kept quiet, embarrassed, I think,” Eileen mused, and Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, “though she did sit herself right next to Heather; bold move, I’ll applaud her for that.”

“Bet Heather didn’t like that,” Charlotte snickered quietly, and Eileen’s smile stretched into a full grin.

“She straight up moved the moment the girl put her bag down.”

“The poor girl,” Charlotte shook her head with a sigh, before clarifying, “not Heather, obviously.” Eileen snorted a laugh.

“What’s the new girl like?” Charlotte finds herself asking, intrigued.

“Quiet,” is Eileen’s immediate answer, “couldn’t get a good read on her, but she knows a decent amount of French.” But she deliberates for a moment, “looks kind of mean.” And for the barest moment, Charlotte frowns, mind flashing to the girl she’d seen at the gas station yesterday... it couldn’t be.

“Black hair?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I saw a girl at the gas station yesterday, black hair, kind of mean looking, Mick didn’t know her,” that was the big tip; Mick seemed to know all the gas station regulars, so she must be new. Eileen catalogued this information in her mind, but had no comment on it beyond a shrug, before reminding Charlotte that they had debate after school, and asking if Tommy would be sticking around to give her a lift home. 

“He will be, he’s got practice until four too,” Charlotte said with a half smile, “and yes, he can give you a lift home too... Will Peach be needing one too?” She asked, referring to Eileen’s younger sister, but Eileen shook her head.

“She’s staying back until five every day this week to finish her science fair project, mom’s happy to pick her up - something about magnets this year - but I don’t want to wait around.”

“Wait, how long until the science fair?” Last year, Eileen, Charlotte, Tommy, and Vince Neil, who they’d still considered something of a friend at the time, had all come to support Peach in both her first year of high school, and her first science fair. Peach had come third, with a rather impressive display about which various household liquids killed plants fastest, and all three had cheered when she’d been given her ribbon, and Tommy and Vince spent the entire ride in the back of Peach and Eileen’s mom’s station wagon ranting about how she should have won, and scheming about how to best put a dead houseplant in their science teacher’s bed, like some low budget, home depot Scarface. Tommy may have become their friends via his place as a constant fixture in Charlotte’s life, and Vince simply because he had grown up as something of her neighbour and Tommy’s close friend, but their loyalty was absolute. Well, almost absolute. Vince was noticeably absent from their current roster of friends however, the then-four of them how vowed to make it a habit, and they could all tell Peach had been touched by the gesture, and Eileen, Charlotte, and Tommy were, at the very least, going to uphold that promise. A small smile plays on Eileen’s face.

“Next Tuesday, she’s so excited.”

if you put your mind to it, you can do anything. but you won’t. 

So according to Eileen, Vince Neil is throwing a party on Saturday, and seeing as Charlotte’s parents still think the world of Vince after he’d been so kind of her after everything happened with her ex at the start of the year, she’s allowed to go. They went to middle school together, though he was always a year younger than her, in Tommy’s grade, and their parents were passive-aggressive PTA friends for a few years there, and, as mentioned before, he’d been genuinely sweet when she was at her lowest. Her parents don’t know that a week and a half into Summer break, right after he’d taken her to prom and promised to key her ex’s car if she asked, he started surfing, starting hanging out at the beach with the rest of the pretty, mean jocks spending their Summer in the sun, and had turned into a vain asshole. Or, well, more of a vain asshole than he already was. 

Vince’s family was well off, and his parties were legendary, which is what made her parents agreeing to let her go so strange. 

What they didn’t, and would never agree to, was letting her go to Nikki’s gig, so she didn’t even bother to ask. Instead, she asked to spend the weekend with Tommy and Athena. Her mother calls to confirm that that would be okay, Charlotte packs a duffle bag with outfits for the weekend, and her mother reminds her to take care of herself at the party the following night, kissing her on both cheeks when Tommy turns up in his beat up Vista Cruiser. 

“Why are you hanging out with us tonight?” Tommy asks, frowning, still in the clothes he’d worn to school. Charlotte’s grip tightens on her duffle bag.

“Because we’re going out tonight.”

Immediately, Tommy’s posture straightens, and his expression lights up; he was delightfully easy to excite. Suddenly he was brimming with questions as he drove, fighting to keep his eyes on the road, and Charlotte let herself relax a little, glad to see he was onboard.

“Nikki Sixx’s band -”

“- is playing tonight!” Tommy finishes her sentence, his voice breaking on the last word out of excitement, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t comment, and it doesn’t stop Tommy’s eyes from sparkling, “he wrote it in sharpie in pretty much every bathroom in the school; you want to go?” Yeah, that sounds about par for the course for Nikki Sixx’s brand of advertising.

“You’re half in love with the guy,” Charlotte ignored Tommy’s spluttered protests, “so I wanna see what the hype is about,” she lied easily. She wasn’t a fan of lying to Tommy, he deserved better than that, but he also might crash if he knows that Nikki had personally invited them.

Tommy begs his mom to let them go, promising to be safe and be back by midnight, and the moment Charlotte vouches for him, his mother’s concern melts into agreement, and Athena complains that she’s never allowed to go anywhere. Tommy sticks his tongue out at her, and she kicks him in the shins, scowling, until Charlotte asks her to help her get ready, and Athena brightens considerably. 

“Charlie you look like a badass!” Tommy delights when he steps out of the bathroom, hair all teased up, eyeliner expertly applied his waterline, wearing an outrageous outfit. He was going to fit in easily. 

“Holy shit, dude, so do you -”

“Tommy! That’s my shirt!” Athena accused, storming over to him, trying to pull the tight, black tank top with the hot pink diamante lightning bolt off of him, despite his jacket over it, while he tried to slap her away.

“It looks better on me!” Tommy snapped, escaping her grasp and trying to hide in the bathroom. 

“Dude, she’s thirteen, give her the shirt back, you can borrow one of mine,” Charlotte sighed, standing back from it all. 

“Never!”

His mother called out if everything’s okay, and while Athena yelled that Tommy was stealing from her, Charlotte called back that she’d take care of it.

“Charlie, please,” Athena sulked, leaning against the closed bathroom door, while Tommy told his sister to piss off. Charlotte sighed, before giving the young girl an evaluative look.

“Would you let him wear it for five bucks?” 

Athena squinted at her, seriously considering the offer; if Tommy had made it, there would be no way she would have accepted, but she knew Charlotte was good for it. 

“Fine, but if he stretches it, I’m telling mom about his stash of Playboys,” she threatened, to which both Tommy and Charlotte made noises of surprise, Charlotte because she hadn’t known about that, and Tommy because he clearly didn’t think Athena knew about it either. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tommy hisses, wrenching the door open. Athena turns arms crossed, smile smug, and gives him her best try me look. Tommy wrinkles his nose, but stalks into his room, grabbing a five ones from his wallet and giving them to Athena, who Charlotte had never seen so pleased before.

“I hate her,” Tommy seethed, and Charlotte petted his shoulder in solidarity.

“I know,” and then, “aren’t you going to be cold?” 

“I’ve got another jacket.”

The pub, Kings’ Hotel, sits on the border between suburbia and the CBD, and Charlotte’s been past it a million times, has spent a considerable amount of time idly staring out the window of MacCready’s Diner across the road, but never actually been inside. Speaking of MacCready’s, there’s a ton of scaffolding around it that Charlotte definitely doesn’t remember, and the sign’s been taken down, so it appears Tommy’s gossip about it being under new management was true. 

There’s no bouncer, but high schoolers and music were already spilling from the building by the time Charlotte and Tommy showed up. The music is decent, if a little heavy, but Charlotte knows she could definitely get into it if she wanted to. When she approaches the building, she notices a gaggle of vaguely recognizable people all in a cluster, huddle together while they smoked to keep warm in the cold night air. 

“Hi Heather,” Tommy calls out to one, putting on his most winning smile, and when Charlotte gets a proper look, yeah she can see Heather with her hair sprayed up and lipstick shiny, give her cousin a sceptical look. She does, however, notice Charlotte, and her expression shifts to something faux sweet and coy, a show of being amicable to someone obviously associated with a fellow cheerleader, and she gives them both a wave.

“I thought you had a thing for Pam,” Charlotte asks quietly as they push their way into the pub.

“Charlie, I’m into any and every cheerleader I’m not related to, why should I deprive any of the other lovely young ladies by only focusing on one girl?”

“Gross,” was Charlotte’s only comment. Tommy ignored her. 

It was kind of overwhelming at first, between the loud music, the crush of people she half-knew, the fact that the bartender didn’t even blink when Tommy ordered a beer, or the fact that Nikki Sixx was on stage in skin tight leather pants, playing bass like it was his God given mission in life.

Her ex and his best friend had also been kind of obsessed with Nikki and his band, and she was coming to understand the hype. Between the swirling lights, the people on the dancefloor, and the heat of the crowd, it was almost hypnotizing to be a part of.

“You should get a drink,” Tommy urges, and Charlotte hesitates. She’s had spiked punch before, half a glass of wine at a family get together when her mom had been tipsy and feeling indulgent, and a couple of sips of beer that her ex had offered her when they’d gone to parties together, but she’d never really...

“I don’t know what to order,” she admits, hesitant, but still raising her voice over the music. Tommy offers her his beer to taste, but Charlotte was already well aware of the fact that beer tasted like piss, and she turns him down. She tries to think back to what people order in TV shows and movies, and tentatively approaches the bar.

“Could I get a jack and coke?” She asks, just thankful that her voice doesn’t shake. The bartender looks her up and down, checking her out without a hint of subtlety, and Charlotte fights the urge to pull her jacket tighter around herself.

“Of course, honey, that’ll be five-fifty,” the bartender smirks, and Charlotte gives an uncertain smile back, thanking him and passing over a ten dollar note. He gives her a five change, along with her drink and a wink. Gross.

“What’d you get?” Tommy asks, when she finds him again, standing against the opposite wall, already halfway through his drink. Charlotte’s holding hers in her fingertips, nervous, taking a sip and scrunching up her whole face at the taste.

“Jack and coke,” she hisses as the alcohol burns. Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up at her bold choice, and asks if he can try it. She offers it easily, and he too makes a face as he drinks, but pretends like it’s great. 

They see more people they recognize, people confused but glad to see them out. They’re almost immediately accosted by Keanu, yet another face Charlotte hadn’t been expecting to see, and he wraps them both up in a hug; he’s all dark hair and wide, easy smiles, somehow everyone’s friend in a way that’s so different from how Charlotte seems to be everybody’s friend, but he and Tommy get on like a house on fire. There’s a resilience they both seem to have, and a shared enthusiasm, despite the fact that Keanu was a Senior, a year above Charlotte, and a full two above Tommy, but his good nature seemed to override these boundaries; the moment Tommy mentions he’d been thinking of heading to the dancefloor, Keanu’s more than happy to join him.

Immediately Tommy gulps down the last mouthful and beer and the pair of boys see fit to start cutting shapes on the dance floor with wild abandon, and so Charlotte finds herself at a table at the back of the room with Heather, a few other cheerleaders and their boyfriends, and surprisingly, Vince. He’s in white leather pants, and they look cool as hell, but also it’s Vince, and Charlotte’s fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Charlotte Lee, you’re looking fine tonight,” Vince slide into the space beside her, and Charlotte doesn’t roll her eyes, or make a comment about how he looks like a greasy snowman, no matter how much she wants to.

“Surprised to see you here, Vince, where’s all your popular little surfer pals?” She asks sweetly, and Vince raises his eyebrows at her, a retort on the tip of his tongue.

“I forgot you two knew each other,” Heather says, and she pauses, clearly deliberating, something dangerous in her eyes, “didn’t you used to date?”

“No,” Charlotte blurts quickly, though Vince is just as quick to deny it, “we’re friends- we were friends; not anymore. We went to prom together, yes, but we never dated.” She clarifies quickly, body language all tight and uncomfortable, which manages to go all the way over Vince’s head, and his hand comes to rest on his heart, expression reading betrayal.

“How long have been known each other, Charlie, for you to say we’re not even friends -”

And maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the alcohol, but Charlotte snapped.

“We were friends for years, Vinny, then six months ago you decided to spend all your time with a bunch of tools and bragged about taking me to prom because I was a cheerleader, and also - oh yeah, remember this? - made one of your best friends cry,” Charlotte hissed venomously, shoulders still tense, fingers gripping the edge of the table. Vince scowled.

“Peach wasn’t-” the words spill from him automatically, but there’s a flicker of something that may just be shame in his eyes, so he drops his gaze and starts again; “my friends are not tools -”

“The Vince who was my friend wouldn’t skip school three days a week to get high and fuck on the beach!” 

“It sounds like you two have a lot to work out...” Heather seems genuinely surprised, and while she’d been fishing for gossip, this was too much, and she graciously backed out of the conversation, pulling one of her friends over to the bar. Charlotte was suddenly aware of how hot it was in the bar, how sweaty and oppressive it all felt.

“People can fucking change, Charlotte,” Vince scowled.

“You didn’t change for the better, Vince, whatever the opposite of character growth is, it’s what happened to you.” Charlotte spat, and turned on her heel before he can respond. She didn’t want to stand on the side side of the road out the front, so she heads for the door labelled Beer Garden, and steps into the cool night air. 

Once outside, she realises how quiet it is, and when she sees Nikki Sixx at one of the tables with a blonde girl giggling in his lap, she comes to the conclusion that the band must be on break. The Beer Garden is mostly populated by smokers, the people around Nikki being the cool, intimidating, stoner punk rockers that she’d figured would be here, but that she can’t bring herself to approach. It’s nice to take a moment to be alone, she finds, breathing in the crisp night air, head feeling clearer for it, looking up at the stars glittering overhead. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Vince is a fucking tool. He’d made Peach cry the week they got back to school, and Charlotte had vowed to never forgive him for it. 

After a few minutes, Charlotte takes the time to really look at the people milling around, wondering if she actually recognised anyone. Much to her surprise, in the back corner of the courtyard area, she did. 

Side by side, Mick from the gas station, and the mysterious girl who’d bought cigarettes from him, sitting on the edge of a planter full of dead shrubs, both smoking, neither speaking, reading one magazine between the two of them.

Charlotte’s not quite sure who’s more likely to stab her, between Mick and the girl, and Nikki’s band of misfits, but she hedges her bets and heads to the pair at the back.

“Having a good night, Mick?” Charlotte asks tentatively, before giving pause. They’re reading a ratty old copy of Hustler. Mick looks up, and lets go of his side of the magazine, letting the girl take it, to keep flipping idly through.

“The band’s okay,” Mick muses, and seems to realise that his cigarette has gone out when he tries to take a drag on it, and he pulls out a lighter and relights it, “how’s your night been?”

“It’s been alright, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Charlotte gives an awkward laugh, looking to the magazine, which Mick seems to either have forgotten about, or not realise that he’s reading porn in public, but finally the girl looks up.

“Someone cut out all the tits,” she’s got an accent Charlotte hadn’t noticed back at the gas station, and still can’t quite place, but that’s not the part she focuses on.

“What?” 

The girl flips the magazine around to show a Farrah Fawcett look-alike posing suggestively, with her entire torso cut from the magazine, just leaving a hole where the cologne ad on the next page can be seen. 

“Found it on the side of the road on the way here,” Mick says, like it suffices for an entire explanation. Instead of elaborating, he offers Charlotte a cigarette.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” an awkward silence follows, Charlotte with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, while the girl close the magazine with a resounding slap and threw it over her shoulder into the dead shrubs, “I’m Charlotte.” Charlotte offers her hand. The girl looks at it, then to Charlotte’s face.

“From the gas station, the cheerleader” she says, tone unreadable, giving Charlotte a scrutinizing look, like she’s waiting for the blonde to shirk under it’s intensity. Charlotte doesn’t back down, and the girl finally gives her a firm handshake, “Lola.”

Silence followers, chatter filters over from the various other groups, Nikki’s laugh, loud and clear, above the rest. Neither Mick nor Lola makes room for Charlotte, so she sways idly from side to side, people watching the rest of the courtyard.

“Didn’t pick you for this type of scene,” Mick muses finally, crossing his ankles and fixing Charlotte with a strangely neutral expression, cigarette almost burned down to the butt where it’s poised between his lips, “that over-eager cousin of yours, sure, but this doesn’t seem like it’s your style.”

“Oh, Tommy is here,” Charlotte’s quick to clarify, looking around as if he were about to jump out of the bushes and irritate the rarely amicable Mick, “but, I don’t know,” she shrugged like coming out tonight wasn’t her idea, “I’m more than happy to give anything a go at least once; people at my school are kind of weirdly obsessed with the bass player, so I guess I wanted to see what the hype was about.”

Mick finished his cigarette as he considered her words, giving a pensive look to the bass player himself, still surrounded by a gaggle of fans, and eventually stubbed the last of the ash out against the edge of the planter he was sitting on, letting the butt fall, crumpled, to the ground. 

“He’s the only one with any ounce of talent,” voice gruff, Mick’s approval comes as a surprise to both Charlotte, who’s eyes go wide at the statement, and Lola, who barks an unexpected laugh, that ends with her choking on the smoke in her lungs. Mick thumps her on the back, and she roughly when her breathing clears, tears watering in her eyes. 

“Whoever writes their songs is half decent,” Lola points out, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, after which she dropped her own mostly burnt-out cigarette, crushing it under the heel of her boot. Yes, she has a point, but Charlotte’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“Can I ask...?” At her tentative tone, Lola immediately tenses, growing defensive, “are you Lola Fields?”

“Why?” Lola immediately snaps, and Charlotte raises her hands in surrender. Mick’s arms are crossed, looking with interest between the two girls.

“I think you go to my school,” Charlotte quickly clarifies, but Lola’s scowl deepens, as if wondering how she knew that, “do you take AP French with a tall, ginger girl?”

“I don’t really know who else is in the class,” Lola slowly tells her, but it’s not a no, which is all that matters. Charlotte nods, but doesn’t press the subject, “it’s weird that you know that much about me.” Lola adds.

“It’s barely anything,” Charlotte points out, baffled at the sudden defensiveness. 

“You know my last name and that I do AP French,” Lola says, and her gaze shifts from Charlotte to the gaggle of fans surrounding Nikki, as they all started to head inside.

“Well,” Charlotte doesn’t let her resolve falter, smiling, “my name’s Charlotte Lee, and --”

“Oi, Cheerleader, you coming inside? We’ve got another set to go!” Nikki Sixx’s voice rings out through the courtyard area, and Charlotte visibly cringes at the sound of it, turning slowly on her heel, still wincing when she faces him. 

And yes, he was talking to her, his hands are still cupped around his mouth like a megaphone, a tunnel showing off his smug and toothy grin. She hadn’t realised he’d even noticed her, but he had, and he needed her to know he had.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” she calls back, irritated. Nikki lowers his hands, and even from this distance she can see him raising his eyebrows.

“But you’re here, aren’t you?” He leaves the because I invited to you as an implication only she would hear, knowing she would hear it nonetheless. Charlotte sighs deeply, shoulders sagging with resignation, and Nikki, feeling as though he’d won, turns sharply on his heel and marches inside.

“I hate him,” Charlotte groaned.

“You know him?” Mick seems rather surprised, enough that the emotion could be heard in his voice. Charlotte turns back, not quite sure what to expect when she faced them. Mick is watching Charlotte with actual interest. Lola was watching the spot where Nikki had been, expression carefully blank.

“He’s a pain,” Charlotte says, defeated, and Lola’s gaze flicks to her, expression turning amused, but before she can get a word in -

“There you are!” The door to the now mostly-empty beer garden bursts open, and Tommy makes himself known. He’s left Keanu somewhere inside, apparently, now that he was on the hunt for his cousin. Mick sighs so heavily that it’s all he can do to lean back into the planter, arms crossed over his chest like a vampire, as if the very sight of the kid exhausts him. From this position, the packet of cigarettes in his pocket is exposed, and Lola steals one.

“I’ll owe you,” is all she says, as Tommy approaches, in less of a beeline, and more of an unsteady wave, more than a little tipsy. Christ, his mom is gonna kill them both.

“I was looking everywhere for you,” his wide eyes betrayed his concern, despite his current state, but his concern turns to joy, upon seeing her company, “hi, Mick!” Mick does not answer, laying with his eyes closed, in the shrubs. 

“He’s dead,” Lola supplies without missing a beat, pulling out her lighter and lighting the stolen cigarette, and Tommy’s expression falls.

“We should help him -”

“I can help him, don’t worry,” Lola assures, with faux seriousness, before her tone shifts to something light, easily distracting the tipsy boy, “you were in the gas station the other day with this one, weren’t you?” She gestures with her lighter towards Charlotte; Tommy looks to his cousin before looking to Lola.

“I- yeah, oh, shit, you’re- hi,” suddenly flustered as he finally remembered where he knew her from, he offers his hand, “Tommy.”

“Lola,” there’s a new edge to her smile, sparkling in her eyes as she taking in Tommy and his whole look, which has something strangely protective flare up in Charlotte’s chest. But then Lola catches the slight frown on Charlotte’s face, and it’s like she knows exactly what she’s thinking, because she lets go of Tommy’s hand and her expression betrays on the faintest hint of amusement. 

“Lola,” Tommy nods very seriously, as if committing the name to his memory in his current state was quite the task, but he persisted nonetheless. After a moment, however, he seemed to remember his original mission, “Vince thought you’d headed home -”

“Fuck Vince,” Charlotte spits automatically, venomously, a knee-jerk response, and Tommy’s stunned into silence. 

“Do you want to go home?” Tommy’s far too earnest and concerned for his current state, and Charlotte feels momentarily guilty for her outburst, hanging her head and letting herself breathe for a moment.

“No, the music’s good, we just got into a fight -”

“You guys used to actually be good friends,” Tommy hesitates, confused, and Charlotte gives him a rueful smile when she looks back at him.

“Then he decided that being nice to the people who have been friends with him for years was lame.”

“He’s nice to me,” Tommy says, sounding a little put out, and Charlotte shrugged, crossing her arms.

“And he’s still nice to me, doesn’t mean he’s not a tool; I’m a cheerleader, and you’re a guy, of course he’s still going to be nice to us.”

Tommy still doesn’t get it, but Charlotte decides to head back into the pub with him, throwing over her shoulder that it was nice to meet Lola. She could almost swear she heard a muttered ‘fuckin’ teenagers’ from Mick, all of nineteen years old himself, which just has Charlotte rolling her eyes. Mick taps Lola’s arm when Charlotte glances over her shoulder, while the rest of him still lays flat in the dirt, and Lola passes him the cigarette obligingly, crossing one leg over the other and smirking at him.

it doesn’t matter if the glass is half full or half empty. i am gonna drink it through this crazy straw!

“Vince is on the warpath,” Eileen’s always been able to remain composed while unreasonably drunk better than any person Charlotte’s ever known, and the following night, while Vince’s house party rages around them in the living room of his house, is no exception. She won’t say how many vodka sodas she’s had, or who supplied her with the vodka, but the way she was unable to suppress the amused twist of her lips was a dead giveaway that she was a little more than tipsy.

“Oh?” Charlotte’s eyes were roaming from face to face at the party, never sticking to just one, hands clutching a red solo cup full of cheap wine.

“Someone told him the person who keyed his car was here,” Eileen’s close to laughter, and Charlotte’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Does he -”

“No,” Eileen shakes her head, taking another delicate sip of her own drink, “he thinks it’s one of Duff’s friends.” She says, before her eyes going wide, and she slaps her free hand over her mouth - “sorry.” Charlotte, who’s too tipsy to care about the mention of her ex, is more confused than anything else.

“Because of me?” She actually snorts, skeptical, “as if Duff or any of his friends cared about who took me to prom after everything happened, enough to key Vince’s car.” It’s been long enough now that she can laugh at it, and the warped logic of it all, knowing full well that the girl sitting beside her was the real vandal of Vince’s shiny, red car. 

“Can you believe Vince asked me to invite Peach? After all that shit he pulled on her after Summer? I almost clocked him in the middle of the carpark!” Eileen’s movements were relaxed and uncomplicated, so unlike her usual demeanour, so easy-going, so honest, sometimes drunk-Eileen’s openness caught Charlotte by surprise, “told him to invite her himself if he wanted her there so bad.”

“I’m in awe of your restraint,” Charlotte mused, leaning into Eileen, letting her eyes fall closed in an attempt to keep the room from spinning in her vision, “he’s such an ass; I’m surprised you’re even here.”

“The nerve on him, acting like he’s too good to be seen with her because he’s got new friends,” Eileen shook her head, wrapping her free arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, securing her, still people watching, “I should have keyed him,” for a moment, she hiccups, and when Charlotte cracks her eye open for a moment to guage her friend’s current state, she sees Eileen glaring into her mostly-empty cup. 

“I’m still deciding if I should pee on something he cares about,” Eileen says, tone so serious that Charlotte can’t help but dissolve into giggles.

“What?”

“‘s why I’m here,” Eileen was so earnest in her declaration that Charlotte was a little nervous, if only because drunk-Eileen would absolutely do something as undignified as pee on something of Vince’s in an act of revenge.

“Would you key Duff’s car for me?” Charlotte asked to change the topic, all soft and teasing, and she can hear rare, unrestrained the smile in Eileen’s voice when she assured Charlotte she would in a heartbeat, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Despite it still being early in the night, Charlotte knew that if she seemed drunk when she got back to Tommy’s house, her Aunt would tell her mom, and that’s the exact opposite of what she needs. Tommy can get legless if he wants, he only has to face the wrath of his weirdly supportive parents; if Charlotte comes home obviously drunk, she won’t be allowed out of the house until college. So she decides to get water.

There’s bodies everywhere, and Charlotte’s struggling to move through them, even with Eileen guiding her to the kitchen.

Charlotte’s been in and around this house so many times, it should be second nature to her; she and Tommy had spent what felt like half their childhoods in this house, within it’s pristine, white walls, and expensive, leather furniture, playing pretend trying to imagine what their future would turn out to be. None of them would have pictured this, of Charlotte, of Charlotte hating Vince and still stumbling, drunk through his house, nor had they seen Vince, playing pretend with popularity, tossing them all aside for a set of conceited fair-weather friends. Tommy’s never been able to predict his own future, too willing to go with the flow to be too certain of anything. 

Away from the living room, and the record player, the music is muffled, and the chatter is quieter, as people are here for drinks, or snacks, while most were choosing to dance in the crush in the living room, or making regrettable, teenage decision upstairs. 

Eileen tops up her drink with obviously spiked punch. Half vodka and soda, half spiked fruit punch. Gross. Charlotte looks on in disgust as she sips water, and Eileen acts like there’s no difference between taste, but she interrupts her own performance of stoicism when her eyes widen.

“Fields.”

“What?” Charlotte asks, confused as all hell, following Eileen’s gaze to where the kitchen opens up onto the patio, only to see Lola, in a full face of makeup, hair sprayed to high heavens, wearing all sorts of black, ripped, mesh and denim layers, looking like an intimidating cross between glam rock and crust punk. She was straddling someone’s lap, looking at them intently, what looked to be a black, eyeliner pencil in her hand.

“That’s the girl from my French class,” Eileen sounds a little surprised to see her, and Charlotte smiles a little.

“Her name’s Lola -” but her mouth drops open when Lola, in the dim light spilling from the kitchen, leans in and kisses whoever she’s sitting on. After a beat, both Charlotte and Eileen burst in fits of unsubtle laughter, not having anticipated this turn of events. They’re holding each other for support in their drunken amusement, laughing like this is somehow the funniest thing they’ve ever encountered, thankfully aware enough to set aside their cups. 

“I- we’re intruding right? This is- we should leave-” they’re not even the only ones in the kitchen when Charlotte says this, gasping for breaths between her laughs, but they seem to be the only ones who have noticed what’s happening, or at least the only ones who halfway care.

Until there comes a shout of ‘yeah, get some, Tommy!’ from the bonfire about thirty yards from the patio, and Charlotte very clearly and distinctly thinks ‘oh no’.

Vince is silhouetted by the fire, bleach blonde hair catching the light, but Charlotte can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shut up, Vince!” Lola’s partner, who is now unmistakably Tommy, calls back, flustered, as Lola hides her grin against his shoulder. Vince and his cronies, none of whom Charlotte knows by name, jeer in response. Then Lola’s leaning back and saying something that Charlotte doesn’t catch, but suddenly Tommy looks inside, his expression turning from flustered and pleased to horrified as his gaze locks with Charlotte’s and they both know that she knows.

Eileen is wheezing with laughter beside her.

Charlotte sees Tommy’s now lipstick-stained mouth mutter ‘shit’. Lola follows his gaze, and waves awkwardly at Charlotte. Charlotte also mutters ‘shit’.

Charlotte tips out her water and gets herself another cup of wine from the back of Vince’s refrigerator. A lot has happened in thirty seconds, she thinks she deserves one more drink for the night.

[my-darling-boy]

what about California suits you poorly?

A LOT and I’m so stressed I’m just going to vent about it, I’m sorry I need to let this out:

1. Weather is fucking awful in so many counties, especially where I live. It gets to 110-120F in the summer for 2 months, half the year it’s 90+. We get rain/grey skies MAYBE in total for 2 weeks out of the entire year. I’ve suffered for years from reversed seasonal depression (where you get so much sun you get depressed) which means my mental health is only at it’s best in the cold or with grey skies and gloomy weather, can’t take pills for it because of the side effects. I also have a skin condition that flares up in the heat which means I can’t go outside, at the worst part of the year, for anymore that 30 seconds without stinging horrible pain over my whole body, can’t get the injection to take care of it cos that’s just one more injection I’d have to worry about

2. We’re on constant wildfire watch about half the year, sometimes more. We’ve been at risk of evacuating 3 times but thankfully haven’t had to ever evacuate. However, my grandparents have had to twice and I have family that lost their houses in the Tubbs Fire which also destroyed my home town and so many people are still displaced from the fires. Even counties that don’t have to evacuate suffer from the purple-red zone for air quality due to smoke and I have high sensitivity to smoke which means I have a constant sore throat for all of fire season which is like 7 months out of the year and I would prefer not to look out my window and see a charcoal sky or a burning Star Wars Tattooine red sunset so often that it becomes normal.

3. I dunno what ads are shown in other states about California, but unless you are a millionaire, but I’ve found it’s near impossible to live here without at least two roommates all working a 40 hour week. Everyone my age has roommates or a partner mainly cos it’s so difficult to live on your own. It is in the top 3 most expensive states in the country. Low income housing 2 minutes away from me is priced at $600,000-$700,000 and the homes just next to those in gated communities are $1,000,000+. “”“Affordable””one bedroom flats just near me are $2,500-$3000 a month. And I don’t even live in a major city. If I moved out now, I would be classified as living in poverty with what money I have. For a look at how bad it’s gotten, my dad’s childhood home in the 70s was once $100,000 and it just sold last year for over $1,500,000.

4. There are no outlets for my career or job wants. At all. My main interest/knowledge is in Western Europe around that 1880-1920 period and mainly around WWI, and I reenact a British soldier. I love that history, theatre, art.... but on the off chance I had $60,000 a semester to go to the universities here I wanted to get a degree after transferring from a junior college, I have nowhere to apply that here. There are practically zero WWI events for me to reenact here, minus Newville and a couple others and there is no target audience for all my WWI writing and art because barely anyone gives a damn about WWI here (the Joke I’d always hear in school was “WWI? What even was that?” and we would learn about it for MAYBE two weeks out of 12 years of schooling). There aren’t museums I’d want to work at here, there aren’t shops I’d love to work for, there aren’t historical places I feel attached to to work there. I cannot tell you how fucking ECSTATIC I was to see actual WWI items in museums in England because I’d never seen anything like it here!! Like??? I could’ve fucking cried because I was so happy to be in a place where my interests had meaning to people?? Like last time I was there, literally a man in an elevator got into a Deep conversation with us about how sad WWI was and how it’s still emotional for people which was WILD because here I’m always told to “be smart and get interested in something that actually matters”. Like I’m sorry but it is SO draining to be so passionate about something it feels like no one around you ever cares about

5. The Style I specifically have is SO unnecessarily pricey to have here. California never had an Edwardian Period the way they did in the countries I studied, which means that there are, surprise, pretty much zero places to buy clothing/items from that period and if you do happen to find them, they’re outrageously expensive and the cuts of the garments aren’t even the ones I’m looking for, for instance, because America had slightly different fashion. No one here sells the clothing I dream of having, I have to order a majority of my stuff from England meaning it costs A LOT and I pay like $80+ in shipping for some things. My reenactment gear is so expensive to have shipped here as well!! I’m also so ://// cos I see all my friends from Europe just going out and causally finding items I’d love to have at decent prices cos they’re just staple antique shop items there which would be classified as rarities here. Like...... to know I could just walk into a physical shop somewhere and pay £15 for a collar or something that would’ve cost me $45 to have shipped here is just AAAAAHHHH??? Like the only reason why my dream life Brand isn’t as developed as I would like is because that Brand just doesn’t exist anywhere here and it’s so disappointing

6. Additionally, I plan on going to Europe when it’s much safer to travel anyway throughout my life just to visit all these places I want to, if I don’t end up living there somewhere, but flights from California to these places are so expensive because I’m always traveling so far and my flight is always 11-12 hours straight which would be fine if it wasn’t in cramped quarters filled with strangers

7. Ultimately, I just feel so alone and empty here. I look out around me and see an American capitalist wasteland, Hollywood drama in my backyard, stark blue skies with a blazing unforgiving sun, no places I Vibe with, no place I feel interested to live, no place I feel interested to work at, and nothing to be happy about. My parents are planning to move after my dad retires, my grandparents on both sides are getting quite older now, and my family on both sides I’m not all that close with, I used to see a lot and now I see maybe once every 1-2 years. I’m not a little kid anymore and it’s just time for me to leave and everything just feels so wrong about living here in ways I don’t even have words for

8. Adding: the job situation here has been so bad for a long time and because of that, I’ve reached a point where I’m selling my car to have the money I need to move out! I’m either going to have to find a place to live where I can walk or take the metro or something because I don’t have cash left over to by another car once I sell the one I have so RIP